#it’s past midnight and I’m having thoughts and consequences

[prophetofthemuse]

Oh… oh I’m not going to heaven, am I…

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

thinking about padmé and gender. femininity is a performance and she’s winning

[eiightysixbaby]

begging for some more older! eddie maybe us out late at a bar let’s have him be jealous and mean😈😈

ohhhhh bestie I can do that 👀

18+ only!!! allusions to smut, mean eddie but he’s just worried about you, jealous eddie, mentions of reader drinking alcohol

Eddie spots you the second he enters the bar. The whole place is sleazy, shitty music blaring in his ears as he pushes through the inebriated crowds. He can feel his boots sticking to the floor as he walks and the air feels thick with the heat radiating off of these strangers’ bodies.

You’re leaning against the bar, your elbows propped up on the probably-filthy countertop as you chat with the bartender. You flip your hair slightly, shifting your weight where you stand and wobbling slightly in your high heels. Definitely tipsy.

Your skirt is obscenely short, and the problem Eddie has with this is that you’re wearing it now, in front of these other men, when you blew him off.

Unable to get ahold of you, he’d been an anxious mess at home. He knew you were going out with friends but you’d promised you’d be at his place by 10. It’s 12:15.

His jaw clenches when he doesn’t see a single one of your friends around, and the way the bartender keeps smiling at you makes him want to punch the guy’s teeth in. He stomps up behind you, a firm hand gripping your arm and turning you to face him. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him, the anger in his face. You’d fucked up, letting your phone die and not getting in touch with him. Staying out later than you’d said you would.

“I think you’re done here,” he says, and it’s not a question or a request or a joke. It’s a command, an order. You are done here, and we’re going the fuck home.

“Eddie-ee,” you hiccup, trying to keep some composure but failing with the alcohol in your system.

“You’re fucking wasted. Are you fucking kidding me, honey? It’s nearly half past midnight and I haven’t heard a thing from you.” His voice is firm, gruff as he tightens his grip on your arm.

“Is there a problem here?” the bartender asks, and Eddie seriously contemplates the consequences of beating this guy’s ass.

“Yeah, you. She’s not interested, pal. And she’s certainly not going home with you tonight,” he barks, yanking you away before the nuisance can respond.

“I’m sorry, Ed, my phone—”

“It died, right? Because you didn’t charge it even though I asked you to fucking charge it before you left,” he grits, and you look down at the floor in shame. He asked you one simple thing, and you neglected to do it. You won’t say it, but he has every right to be upset.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was!? When I couldn’t get ahold of you? Knowing you were out drinking?” Eddie asks, guilt clawing at your insides.

He shoves open the door to the bar, ushering you out into the parking lot. You shiver at the chill in the air, far colder out than it had been when you’d arrived.

“Nothing bad happened, Ed, I’m fine,” you stress, but he’s having none of it.

“But it could have!” he barks, his voice stern and louder than he usually ever speaks to you. “Sure looked like you were having fun entertaining that bartender,” he scoffs.

You grimace, suddenly sobering up rapidly. You hadn’t been flirting with the guy, but it couldn’t have looked good from Eddie’s perspective. You do tend to get overly friendly when you drink, talkative and chipper.

“We were just talking, I had ordered a drink!” is what comes out of your mouth, for reasons unbeknownst to you. You’d meant to quell his suspicions, but instead you sound petulant and defensive.

“Just fucking talking,” he chuckles, albeit humorlessly. “Don’t think he thought you were just talking, sweets.”

He opens the passenger door of his vehicle, slamming it behind you after you get in. The way he forces the key into the ignition and peels out of the parking lot makes your stomach churn. You make it to his place in record timing, the entire ride silent. He doesn’t open the door this time, or help you out of the car. Your feet ache in your heels and your hands wring together as you walk to his front door.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say meekly, standing helplessly in his living room as he regards you out of his peripheral.

You see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, and he brings one hand up to rub at his chin, the gray and brown scruff that litters the skin.

“You had me worried fucking sick,” he says, emphasizing this. He walks toward you until the backs of your thighs are hitting the arm of the couch. “I need you to follow rules, baby. All I asked was that you charge your phone,” his eyes don’t look away from yours for even a second, making sure you’re listening.

You nod, feeling the heat that radiates off of his body. He smells like his cologne and a hint of tobacco, a scent so familiar and comforting to you. You wonder why you’d wanted to go out tonight at all, when he’s been here all along.

He steps even closer, resting a hand on your hip possessively. “And don’t even think about chatting up anymore bartenders,” he warns, his mouth hovering beside your ear. “Got it?” His voice is gruff, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I won’t,” you agree, knees nearly buckling when an index finger reaches out to stroke your cheek.

“That’s a good girl,” he says. “Now why don’t you take these clothes off and go get on the bed for me, pretty girl. Gotta remind you who you belong to.”

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 1 of 2)

4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You thought working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club would just be a way to make some easy money - you didn't expect to meet him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Private room shenanigans, longing, ref to f!masturbation, nicknames as always, reader is a single parent (mentioned briefly in the this part), TF boys make a quick appearance!

A/N: In this part, reader only knows Frankie as "Francisco", but for the purpose of the narrative, I refer to him as Frankie most of the time. This came out of nowhere and I wrote it in one day instead of editing the next chapter of SwY 🫣 procrastination fics are a thing, right? Barely proofread, please excuse all my mistakes!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰 The moodboard Frankie pic is from Pinterest but after a wee bit of sleuthing, I believe it’s a screen grab from this gifset by @uuuhshiny - please correct me if I’m wrong!! 😊

Swaying seductively to the club’s upbeat remix of an old school RnB song you’ve always loved, you hit each bass beat with a little pop of your hip so that you lightly knock your knees into the widespread thighs of the man whose legs you’re dancing in between.  The combined movement lends a little bounce to your naked tits, and as you raise your arms above your head and continue to move to the music, you have to bite your lower lip to prevent from smiling and chuckling.  Even with your eyes closed, you know the man’s large, calloused hands, ever respectful of the private room’s ‘No Touching’ rule, are spread, straining with superhuman restraint and digging into those same meaty thighs that you keep rubbing against.  You might be doing it on purpose.  Afterall, the rule is that he can’t touch, but you can.

Trailing your fingers down through your hair, then down, down along your face and neck until you reach your chest, your hands grab and grope your breasts the way you know the man before you wishes he could.  Letting yourself pretend that your desperate touches are his, you let out a little whimper that’s meant to try his resolve.  As you bend your knees while rolling your hips, the lascivious show you’re putting on is lowered to his eye level, and you continue to palm your tits, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers – pretty peaks hardening as the fan of his heavier than usual breath hits them just right.  You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer.  Or sexier.  And it’s all because of this man.

Francisco.

Never one to break the private room’s cardinal rule, or even cop a feel while out on the main floor, this man is nothing but respectful.  And that makes you wish even more that he would just break – break all the rules and have his way with you.  Touch you.  Grab you.  Manhandle you to his liking and take you right on the faux velvet couch that lines the wall behind him.  With a low and wide swivel of your hips, you ghost over the growing bulge of his jeans and you hear him groan - a deep guttural sound from the back of his throat, and this time you don’t fight the smile that spreads across your face.

Francisco.

He’s probably been your favourite part of working as a club cocktail waitress these past few months.  You have a job as a research assistant that you love, but earlier this Spring, a small accident in the lab led to a temporary closure that had you looking for short-term work – you needed something where the hiring process wasn’t drawn out and that you could quit when the lab reopened without any negative consequences to your career - the waitress opening at The Midnight Palace had fit the bill.  The money was good and the work wasn’t arduous; it wasn’t as if you were one of the onstage dancers who had to perform some of the most incredible feats of acrobatics you’ve ever seen.  Even the later hours turned out to be a blessing, allowing you to spend your now free days with your son, a welcomed opportunity to fill his carefree summer days with activities and play before he started kindergarten in the Fall.  The girls, dancers and waitresses alike were incredibly friendly and welcoming, many of them single moms themselves.  All in all, you think you might even miss the club when the newly renovated lab reopened.  And still, even with all your unexpected fondness for this job, the thing you unequivocally look forward to most when coming in to work is Francisco Morales.

Every two weeks without fail he came in with a group of army buddies on Friday night.  The first time you encountered them had been your second week at the club, amused at how the other girls had been excited for their arrival; the group was known for being fun loving and rowdy, but never disruptive or disrespectful.  And generous - very generous.  As a waitress, your dress code was lingerie of your choice - not any more or less skimpy than what the dancers wore on stage or when they came to the floor for lap dances, but it could invite the occasional butt slap or waist grab from some of the bolder club patrons.  But never Francisco’s group – you served them drink after drink after drink, and they were only ever sweet and charming, nothing more than a polite touch as thanks, and generous with their words of praise and tips to every one of their servers and dancers.  You come to learn that they usually end their evenings with a round or two in the private rooms, sometimes one-on-one, other times as a group.  On that first night, you served the drinks in a private room that the group commandeered with three gorgeous dancers - all giggling and having the time of their lives.  As you put down their drinks, the dark-haired man that you come to think of as the group’s leader, smiled at you with his piercing hooded eyes and laughing, “Hey hunny, why don’t you stay?  We’ll pay for your time and you can keep Fish company.”  He tilted his head back to indicate to his friend who sat a bit further back from the group in a chair, leaning back comfortably, arms crossed, with no stripper to call his own.

You had smiled politely, not sure of your answer even though Tiffany had nodded encouragingly at you; most patrons didn’t know, but any girl could be invited to a private room – not just the dancers.  It was rare for a waitress to spend time in a private room – while there was no obligation, there was some expectation to strip and most waitresses didn’t; when you took the job, you didn’t have any intention of spending any one-on-one time in the private rooms, despite the rate and the tips being quite good. 

As you approach the odd man out to serve him his drink, he gives you an almost bashful shake of his head, as if to say ‘You don’t have to’ – you’re not sure what it is, maybe it was his almost boyishly shy smile, or the glimpse of those soft brown curls you caught when he lifted his cap to nervously run his hands through his hair, but on a whim, you decide to stay.  Afterall, it’s not as if you were alone – there were six other people in the room with you.

Putting his drink down, you slide into the handsome stranger’s lap, perching your scantily clad bum on his thick thigh, you blink bright-eyed and throw him a cheeky grin, “So… you’re a Fish?”  The wholesome chuckle and crinkle of his captivating eyes that follow your question warm your chest more than they should and that’s how you meet Francisco Morales. 

That first night, Frankie spends the remainder of the time that Santi pays for with you in his lap, arm thrown around his neck to keep from slipping off, just talking about nothing and everything.  You learn that the men are old army buddies: Santiago (call sign: Pope), Will (call sign: Ironhead), Ben (no call sign, just Benny because he’s the baby of the group) and of course Francisco, call sign: Catfish.   You giggled at this and Frankie thinks the sound is more than adorable.  You get a chance to run your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and find them to be as soft as you thought they’d be.  Ultimately, you find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time staring into his warm brown eyes as Frankie tells you about himself and his work as a helicopter pilot and mechanic.  When the little melodic bell chimes to indicate that the private room times are almost up, you can’t believe how fast the time has gone - you leave Francisco with a light kiss on the cheek and thank him for giving your tired feet a rest.

Two weeks later he returns and asks for a private room slot with just you.  And again, two weeks after that.  And again, and again – now a regular occurrence for the past few months, every time the boys came in to the club.  Your time in the private room with Francisco is comfortable, fun, flirty, and always, always safe.  A man of honour, he never touches you - his hands stay by his sides, on the table or on his own body, but never yours.  With time, you give yourself permission to be bold, growing more and more unrestrained with your touches. 

Taking off his cap, you’ll card your hands through his hair and lightly massage Frankie’s scalp – the first time you did this, you earned a soft ‘Baby’ from his plush lips that had your face feeling hotter than hot.  It fills you with something akin to pride and possessiveness that you know those same lips are pillow soft - you’ve run your fingers over them a hundred times, just as you have his cheekbones and jaw line, tracing over every firm line of his handsome face with featherlight strokes.  Nothing compares to feeling of his cheeks cupped in your soft hands as you scratch his patchy scruff, except maybe the swell of your chest when this affectionate gesture secures you another nickname, hermosa. 

But by far, your favourite nickname comes during your third time together.  Having looped both your arms around Frankie’s neck after making him laugh with a funny observation about a TV show you both watch, he closes his eyes once his laughter subsides and murmurs, “You smell like strawberries.”  Giggling, you confess that it’s the glitter gel you borrow from one of the dancers; you were still too new to the club scene to have any of your own body glitter, but you liked the smell of this one so you kept borrowing it and Sasha didn’t seem to mind. 

“Smells good, baby,” Frankie declares, “That’s my favourite dessert, you know?  And you’re just as sweet, Shortcake.”  Shortcake.  The petname had stuck and made you feel giddy every time the endearment slipped from his lips.  You don’t tell him that when you have to buy body wash the following week, you choose a strawberry scented one on purpose.

Sometimes your time with Frankie feels almost like taking an unsanctioned break – some misguided concept of proper work ethic finds you volunteering to dance for him even though it’s not in your job description; to both your delight, you discover you actually enjoy it, greedily drinking in Frankie’s lustful gaze as his eyes follow every dip of your waist and sway of your hips.  More recently, you’ve progressed to massaging his tense shoulders and back when he tells you about his rough days at work; as you push and pull at the corded muscles under his shirt, the deep rumbling groan that drops from his chest shoots straight between your legs and you can’t help but salivate at the idea of making him feel good in other ways.

But most of the time, you simply sit in Frankie’s lap, the two of you chatting and getting to know each other as if you were just two people that met under totally normal circumstances and found the other to be attractive.  You learn that he’s kind and giving, and he makes you laugh so very easily – some nights your face hurts a little from smiling so much, content to just listen to Frankie talk while absentmindedly rubbing his large, paw of a hand with your much smaller ones.

You think about his laugh and the way his entire chest shakes with it all the time.  On the nights between his visits to the club, you go home and think about his soulful eyes and the way they can flicker from a soft puppy dog look to a darkened, gripping expression of want with just a single touch from you.  After the nights you spend with him, he stars in all of your bedtime fantasies and you come to his imagined touch, hard and desperate with his name curling over your lips.  You wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.  If he would smile at you in the morning daylight the way he does when you kiss his cheek goodbye in the dark private room, all soft and almost disbelieving.  You wonder if he ever thinks about you at all outside of your nights together at the club.  You try not to let yourself get too lost in your longing for what might never be, but as the summer goes on, you start to ache for him, missing the little you have of him every day between your rendezvous.

Sadly, as much you cherish the time with Francisco in your little bubble within the safety of the club’s private room, you know it’s a fantasy that can’t last.  While Frankie knows you have a separate career outside of the club, he doesn’t know that your time together is nearly up.  The original timeline for the lab to be ready was end of summer, but an email you received last week indicated that the renovations were ahead of schedule and all lab and research staff could expect to return to work soon, though the exact date was yet to be fixed.  You don’t say anything to him - unwilling to spoil the mood of your limited remaining time together, and moreover, unwilling to broach the topic of what this is and if it could be anything else.  Anything more. 

Afraid, really, of what Francisco’s answer may be.

You have a feeling that your call back to work will come any day now, and that’s how you find yourself in the position you’re in now: topless and gyrating, cunt positively dripping while you touch your breasts salaciously for Francisco’s enjoyment.  Earlier tonight, when he had you sitting on his lap like that first time, the two of you drowning in the other’s eyes and longing looks, you had realized just how much you were going to miss him when you left.  The thought that this might be the last time you’re able have Frankie like this - all to yourself, able to soak in his adoring gaze while drawing a deep sigh of contentment from his chest as you study the strong features of his face, makes you bold and brave.  You rise and stand in between his legs, tilting his face up with your fingers so he looks at you while you reach behind and start to unclasp your bra.

“Hermosa, you don’t have t-” Frankie starts to protest, not sure where this might be coming from.  He’s been perfectly happy with how the two of you have been spending your private room time together.  In no way has Frankie ever wanted you to feel like he was pushing for more than you were giving him.  He won’t pretend that he doesn’t dream about your soft curves and the way your gorgeous figure nearly spills from the drool worthy lingerie you always wear; his nights alone in bed are spent imagining how you might feel writhing underneath him, what sounds he could pull from you while he explores your body – he’s willing to bet you taste sweeter than the strawberry scent that always seems to linger on his skin after he visits you.  But here in this room, it’s only the pleasure of your company and the opportunity to make you laugh and smile that he will ask from you.

Pressing a finger to his lips, you assure him, “Shhhhhh, Francisco.  I want to.  You’ve been so good to me these last few months.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you make me feel so special – it’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way.”

“Baby, I want to make you feel special everyday,” breathes Frankie.

You sigh, “And you’re so respectful.  I appreciate it so much, baby.  Please. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”  Letting your lacy black bra fall to the ground, you watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate until his eyes turn jet black with want, jaw dropping.

“Holy fuck, Shortcake,” Frankie practically growls, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”  His unblinking gaze lingering over your pert and bouncy curves, bare and presented for him – a sight he didn’t even dare allow himself to dream.

Cocking your head to the side, you can’t help but feel your heart burst at his admission, “You think about me, Francisco?”

“All the time, baby,” there’s no use playing coy with you, not when you’re so perfect and vulnerable before him.  Frankie manages to tear his eyes away from your nearly nude body only to be met with what he thinks is the most beautiful sight on Earth, you smiling at him sweetly, radiating pure happiness.  Did he do that?  Did he make you happy?  He can’t help but feel a burst of pride - he wants to do it again and again.

Almost shyly, you tease, “Would you let me dance for you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Frankie can only assent with a quick nod before he watches, mesmerized, as you start to sway you body to the beat of the music pouring in from outside the private room; every line and dip of your figure moves rhythmically as if to hypnotize him.  Frankie doesn’t know how long you dance, but every brush of your legs against his causes his dick to twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning.  When you move your hands to cup those perfect breasts of yours, he stares as you fondle and play with your nipples and thinks he might actually rip holes in his jeans with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his legs.  He’s painfully hard and he wants to touch you so bad.  But, of course he won’t.  You trust him not to cross that line, and he would never want you to feel anything but perfectly safe with him.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Frankie gazing at you - eyes glued to your face with an almost pained look of reverence, devotion etched into the handsome features of his face and it makes your heart sing.  “Francisco,” you tut playfully, “I finally get half naked for you, and you’re looking at my face?”

“Prettiest view in the room, Shortcake.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr, and then as if taking off your top for him wasn’t bold enough, you close the little distance left between your bodies and kiss him.  Soft and tentative at first, but when you feel Frankie’s mouth chase yours for more, the kiss quickly becomes needy, hungry.  Frankie’s hands remain on his legs, so you touch him for the both of you – running your hands through his soft hair, you cradle his head in your palms and tip his face to yours, pulling him up so you can press your lips more greedily to his.  Frankie’s tongue finds yours and he matches its every brush and stroke with equal fervour; as he map the inside of your mouth, the needy groans that vibrate from the back of your throat make his teeth rattle and his heart soar.  You gasp for air, but don’t take in enough because you can’t bear to be parted from his perfect, plush mouth – trading air for the dizziness that comes with the way Frankie devours you.  You kiss him like it’s everything you’ve been wanting to do for the last few months because it is; you kiss him like it’s the last time because it might be.

You break apart to the chime of the bell that warns the private rooms that their sessions are almost over.  Arms still around Frankie’s neck, you’re flattened against him – your knees pressed against his groin where you can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, your now heaving breasts tucked right beneath his chin, but he only has eyes for your face – the two of you grinning like lovestruck fools, though Frankie swears your eyes look a little sad.

“Time’s almost up, Francisco,” you whisper.  Backing away, you grab your bra from where it fell earlier and thread your arms through the straps.  Turning, you hold the cups to your chest and throw over your shoulder, “Do you mind?”

Wordlessly, Frankie expertly hooks your bra closed; when the backs of his thick fingers brush against your skin to buffer the snap of the band, that iota of contact sends an electrical current straight to your throbbing core.  And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back.  It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob. 

Leaving him at the curtain to the room, you kiss his cheek lightly as you always do.

“See you next time, Shortcake.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.”

As if you were clairvoyant, the call from your old job comes the following Wednesday, and by that Friday you’ve worked your last shift at The Midnight Palace.  Saying goodbye to your co-workers, you know you’ll genuinely miss them and truly hope to keep in touch.

You wrestle briefly with leaving Francisco a message, but the truth is, you don’t know what you’d say or what you’d be asking for.  What you shared in the private room had seemed so precious and real, but was it really?  Could it ever survive in the real world?  The real world of kids, and long work days, and mundane chores?  If the magic of your time together with Frankie was marred by reality or if he never even responded, your fantasy of him would be shattered and then you wouldn’t even have the memory of him.  So, selfishly and somewhat cowardly, you opt to keep your little fantasy of Francisco for yourself and your lonely nights, and you leave knowing that in a week’s time he’ll show up and find you gone. 

The return to work is unremarkable and your schedule quickly normalizes to what it was before the lab incident; you’re happy to see your team again and easily delve back into the work you enjoy.  The remainder of the summer passes quickly, and before you know it, the first day of kindergarten is upon you.

Walking hand in hand with your son, you can’t help shedding a few tears seeing your child take this monumental step.  He’s nervous, but is taking a lot of big kid pride in being brave like you talked about.  After helping him find his cubby and putting his backpack away, you step into the hallway to say your last goodbyes as the teacher has instructed.

Burying his face in your neck, your son murmurs, “I love you, mama,” before striding confidently back into the classroom, waving back to your tearful, “I love you, Ray-ray! See you after school!”

Behind you, you hear the sniffles of a young girl who is having a little more difficulty separating from her parent; the low rumble of her father whispering words of reassurance and love transition to a louder and clear, “I’m proud of you, mija!” as the little girl walks tentatively towards the open door of the classroom.

That voice.  That calm, deep baritone is oddly familiar to you but you can’t quite place it.  You might puzzle over it a little if it wasn’t for your son reaching out his hand to the little girl at that moment and saying, “Hi!  I’m Raynor!  I’m in your class!” and the little girl smiling back wide, “Hi Raynor!  I’m Valentina!” before they walk hand-in-hand towards their new teacher.

Proud of your son and slightly relieved that he might have just made his first friend, you turn around to beam at the father of the little girl. 

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own.  How was this possible?

Francisco.

Part 2

[collapsedglasshouses]

Consequences || Noah Sebastian x Reader [Part 5]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: Figuring out when and how to tell Nick about Y/N's and Noah’s relationship wasn’t as easy as originally thought.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of alcohol consumption/drinking, mentions of throwing up, NSFW, SMUT, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (p in v) (don’t do that kids!), swearing, angsty, fluffy, smutty, EVERYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT SOMETHING

Taglist: @jakekiszkasguitarpick @blackveilomens @kingdomof-omens @a1ex-ba1ex

A/N: Hello cuties! As heartbreaking as it is, this is the final part of the Consequences Series. I’m actually kinda proud of myself since this was my first published work in English! At the end I also wrote a little text so imma just say this here: I'm not ready to say goodbye to this fic but I hope I found a good finish to it. Enjoy and let me know if you liked it 🫶🏻

The first time you and Noah almost told Nick was New Year’s Eve…

"We need to go outside again." You mumbled while Noah was peppering kisses on your neck and he hummed in agreement. It was New Year Eve and therefore another two weeks had past that were filled with sneaky touches and kisses from you or Noah.

You hadn't found the time to tell your brother about your little affair that bloomed into a full-blown relationship. Much to the dismiss of Jolly, who was the only one knowing about this whole thing. He even made it very clear that you two owed him something since he didn't even come to the hotel room that night. He decided to play black out drunk and ended up in the middle of the king size bed your brother and Folio shared.

You felt Noah’s hands sneak under your shirt, while he pressed himself against you. You felt how hard he was, but you also knew that it was about ten minutes before midnight and you couldn’t just spend them fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom, while all your friends were celebrating downstairs, not even knowing you were dating.

“We really need to go outside again, Noah.” You almost moaned out. It was pointless anyway to pretend that you had even an ounce of control when it came to him. Everyday for the last two weeks was filled with the two of you having sex in every little corner of your apartment. Much to the dismiss of your upstairs neighbors, but they had owed you something for the past two years of them shouting at each other non-stop at every possible time of day.

“Just two more minutes.” He groaned in your ear and his hand nearly had slipped through the waistband of your shorts, but you quickly turned around to face him before it was too late. “If we don’t go now, we miss New Year.” – “Y/N, we have 365 days left of 2023, I think it’s not possible for us to miss the new year except we die in the next ten minutes.” He stated making you roll your eyes, before you stood on tiptoes and kissed his nose.

"Give me a second." He than exclaimed, eyeing down to his pants where his boner still clearly made an appearance. You giggle quietly, before giving him some space.

When he was ready, you grabbed his hand and made your way outside with him, making sure to let go of his hand right in time before anyone could notice. While the others were busy chatting, Jolly shot you two a knowing gaze before you grabbed your drink that you left in Jolly’s hand and turned your attention to the group in front of you. Noah stood close next to you due to the temperatures.

You couldn’t believe the year was already coming to an end. Everything was so fucking different from last years New Years Eve, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing. You were here with your closest friends and your boyfriend, who also happened to be your best friend in the whole world.

"Next year is going to be so awesome. So many tour dates and we can finally work on album number 4." Folio rambled happily before taking a sip out of his cup. You on the other hand began to think. You were so happy with Noah but you needed to realise that you weren't going to have that much time together all the time. While you had the luck of working from home most of the time, Noah's job was to tour the world. You had been on a couple of stops with them while they toured and you totally got why they loved it so much. You loved seeing them perform. You loved the energy. It warmed your heart to know they finally could do what they loved all the time.

As if Nick had heard your thoughts, he sighed. "Maybe you should come with us for the next tour, Y/N" - "What?" - "You heard me right. You always join us for a couple of days and you love it. Maybe you can organize it with work that they don't need you in the office for a couple of weeks."

First your eyes met Noah's with surprise who showed you a warm smile, than your gaze wandered to Folio who looked at you awaiting an answer, so did Jolly. When you looked back at your brother's eyes he also smiled widely at you. "I-... I'd love to. I'll see what I can do."

With that Folio gave you such a big hug, he even lifted you off the ground, making you scream. When he finally let you down again, you tried to fix your clothes that were now a lot more wrinkly than they already were from your's and Noah's activities in the bathroom before.

"Next year is going to be even better than this." Jolly exclaimed, making you chuckle a little. "What?" - "I don't know, that sounded like a white woman's Instagram caption." You answered your friend, making the others laugh while Jolly looked at you offended. "Leave me and my white woman's captions alone, Y/N."

"Okay, stop the fighting. One minute to go." Jesse than interrupted your little argument and joined together with the others attending your small party.

You made sure to stand between your brother and Noah, who not so secretly grabbed your hand while the countdown started.

10...

9...

8...

7...

6...

5...

4...

You felt a squeeze on your hand and looked at Noah. He gave you the sweetest smile ever.

3...

2...

Was he really going to-...

1...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Your heart raced when Noah bent down a little and than...

...placed a long and sweet kiss on your cheek before hugging you tightly. You automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and returned his hug even more tightly.

"Happy New Year, Y/N" - "Happy New Year and to many more, Noah."

With that you let go of each other but before you went on to hug the others, you smiled at each other knowingly.

This year was definitely going to be great...

The next morning didn't start as great for you as you thought though. You woke up with the biggest headache you ever had and felt like you needed to throw up any minute. The light from outside burned in your eyes and when you realised you weren't laying in the guest bedroom, you shot up and almost instantly regretted it, immediately feeling even more nauseous.

You quickly scanned the room, realizing you were on the living room couch. You almost let out a scream when you felt someone next to you shift. It was Noah. Why did you sleep on the couch with him?

"Good Morning, love." He mumbled next to you, brushed your hair out of your face and than instantly noticed your confused look. "Why did we sleep here?"

"You got so drunk, you lay down here and instantly fell asleep." He answered. "And why are you here?" - "You don't remember?" - "Remember what?"

"Jolly and I did our utter best keeping you from telling Nick that we are together for about 1000 times. In the end you didn’t let me go and insisted on me staying with you right before you fell dead asleep." Noah answered you, while your mouth fell open.

"He is right, you were really talkative last night." Jolly suddenly said from the other side of the room, causing you to scream out in fear and instantly regretting it.

Quickly you stood up and made your way to the bathroom and puked. When you felt a little better, you got up and rinsed your mouth before looking in the mirror. You realised someone had taken your make up off.

"Your welcome." Noah said, standing in the door frame, making you jump a little. "Could you all please stop scaring me."

"Sorry." He mouthed before stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. She sighed, instantly relaxing, when his head fell onto your shoulder.

"Should I make you a cup of tea or something?" Noah asked and you looked him in the eyes through the mirror. His voice was still raspy from sleep and it gave you instant goose bumps. When you were honest with yourself, you couldn't believe you pulled his ass. He was the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

"If it doesn't bother you." - "You never bother me." With that he placed a kiss to your temple and headed of to the kitchen.

After you brushed your teeth, you followed him, finding that Jolly had also found himself at the kitchen counter.

"Are the others still sleeping?" You asked, sitting down next to Jolly. "I think so, it's only 9 AM and we were awake until 4:30..."

"What the hell did I do last night?" You than wanted to know, causing Noah and Jolly to shoot each other knowing glances.

You looked back and forth between them until Jolly finally started to talk. "You want me to start with the first one or the funniest one?" - "Just tell me."

"I think the best one was when you were about five shots in, you grabbed your brother by the collar and almost shouted into his ear how in love you are with Noah." Jolly laughed. "WHAT?" You looked at your boyfriend who nodded slightly while setting a cup of tea down in front of you. The memory slightly started to form in your head.

"You know what, Nick?" - "Yes, Y/N?" - "I'M MADLY IN LOVE WITH-..." Jolly instantly came to your rescue. "ALL OF US... uhm... She loves all of us, isn't that right, Y/N." - "Yeah, totally but I REALLY love-..." - "This tequila shot!" Jolly quickly shoved the shot into your hand and with that you forgot what you wanted to tell your brother and drank it.

"Oh my god, I want to die." You cried out in embarrassment and set your head down on the kitchen counter.

"Why that?" You heard your brother ask behind you. And the game began again...

"She is hungover." Noah quickly answered for you and than you felt a hand on your back. Your brother's.

"Maybe drink five tequila shots less next time." - "I'll consider it."

When you looked up again and grabbed your tea cup to drink from it, your eyes locked with Noah's, who was leaning against the wall across from you. You knew this couldn't go on like this forever but for now it needed to be.

The second time Nick almost found out was not even a month later...

The house was almost creepily empty when you arrived at Noah's place three hours ago. After work you decided to give the boys a visit, only texting Nick but you didn’t receive an answer before arriving, just to find out your boyfriend was the only one home.

But you certainly didn't complain that you had the house all to yourself. The two of you had decided to play some video games like you always did. So you found yourself laying between his legs, leaned against his chest.

You were surprised Noah even took the time to just play video games with you since he mutated into a workaholic with the band stuff going that well. He normally always had an excuse to work on something music related but since you got together you had a feeling he finally gave himself some deserved rest.

"Fuck this, I give up." He cursed out about ten minutes later after you died almost ten times in a row at the same point in the game. You gave him a confused side eye. "Are you really this offended by the game now?" - "I think you should watch your mouth, Y/N." He replied and softly shoved you away from him. "Or what, Noah?"

You turned around between his legs to look him in the eyes. His irises immediately darkened while you sneaked up to him and than straddled his lap. Still not changing his slightly angry face, he placed his hands on your hips. "Don't tease me, Y/N"

"I would never." You sweetly answered him before moving your hips once and than leaning down to pepper kisses on his neck. "I don't know how you got that idea."

You heard him breathe loudly when you slightly nibbled on his earlobe.

With that it took only about a minute before you two sat there only in your underwear.

Noah slowly kissed his way down your neck, finding your sweet spot and started sucking on it. You slightly moaned and than your hand quickly found it’s way in between you two. First you stroked him through his underwear a couple of times, causing him to bite down on your neck and bringing out a tone from you that made him buck up his hips.

"Fuck, Y/N. You drive me insane." He moans in your ear.

With that you slowly pulled down his underwear. He made sure to press his lips on yours again when you slowly let your hand slide up and down his cock. His heavy breaths against you face sent a wave of heat to your core and before you knew his hand also wandered between you and pulled your underwear to the side.

Skilfully he found your clit and started circling it.

"Fuck, Noah." You moaned into his mouth, feeling yourself getting even more wet.

When he bucked his hips up again, you knew this wasn’t enough anymore.

"I need you, Y/N." Noah than whispered against your lips. „Now."

With that you quickly repositioned yourself, letting his tip go through your folds a couple of times before slowly gliding down his cock. Causing the both of you to moan in pleasure.

You let yourself adjust for a couple of seconds while Noah placed soft kisses on your lips.

"You are so fucking beautiful." He muttered against your lips and before you slowly start to move, you brush his hair out of his face. "You're even more beautiful." The smile that spread on his face, gave you goose bumps.

When you slowly began to move, his hands instantly found your hips, giving you a bit of guidance while you tried to take in every second that's happening before you.

You still couldn’t believe this whole thing was actually happening. Every fiber of your body was screaming for him. You wanted nothing more than to belong to him.

So when his arms wrapped around you and made you lay flat on his chest while he started pumping up into you, you could help but exclaim your thoughts. "God, I love you so much."

When you felt your orgasm built up, you were more than pleasantly surprised when Noah spoke up again. "Fuck, Y/N. I'm so close." He moaned in your ear and sent shivers down your spine.

"I need you to cum for me, Noah." You whined in his ear and you almost found your highs when suddenly…

… There was a knock on the door.

That’s when Noah and you came at the same time while trying to tame each others moans with a kiss. You felt his cum spread inside of you.

Than there was a second knock. It shot you right back to reality. You two looked at each other mortified while quickly separating from each other.

"Give us a second." Noah exclaimed frustrated trying to shuffle into his clothes without falling to the ground, while you tried to do the same, with the little extra add on that you felt his cum slowly dripping out of you.

"Is everything okay?" You heard your brother's voice from the other side of the door while you searched for your shirt. You randomly grabbed the black one, laying next to the bed and threw it over your head before fixing your hair and positioning yourself on the edge of Noah's bed.

Noah in the meantime found it’s way to the door and opened it for your brother.

"How can we help you?" Noah asked Nick.

"I wanted to ask if you two want to-…" Nick stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting on Noah‘s bed while probably having the most "I'm not guilty"-gaze on your face that you ever had, but Nick's eyes focused on your shirt.

"Why are you wearing Noah's shirt?" Your brother asked you and with that Noah's gaze also landed on you with widened eyes.

Quickly you looked down to see there was no doubt you were wearing Noah's shirt, since it was his iconic Cher t-shirt.

You swallowed hard before looking back at your brother and quickly defended yourself. "I spilled my drink over my shirt and Noah was so kind to borrow me his."

Nick looked between you and Noah a couple of times before clearing his throat. "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to watch a movie with us downstairs. Jolly is making popcorn right now so… We would start in five minutes."

With that he gave you two another concerned look before leaving Noah's room, causing you to relax again.

"Oh my fucking god." You whisper-shouted at him the second his door is closed again.

"I didn’t mean to… You know…" Noah mumbled.

"Cum inside of me while my brother was literally standing in front of your door?" You cried out, feeling how is cum had dripped onto his bed. "When I say it like this it sound so weird."

Noah nodded before sitting down next to you.

"Imma have to ask you something before we can go downstairs…" You began. "Helping you clean up? No problem, you can also borrow underwear from me, no one will notice it under your pants."

You gave him a thankful look, before grabbing his collar and kissing him again. After that you two cleaned up the mess you made before both standing in the middle of his room.

"Are you ready to be totally platonic friends again?" He asked while wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

„You mean, we JUST PRETEND?" You giggled before stepping towards the door.

"I hate you, Y/N." - "No, you love me."

Noah smirked at you while rolling his eyes before following you downstairs…

The third time you didn’t tell Nick, it made things even worse…

"Tell me, Noah. Is this all a joke to you?" You asked Noah while he leaned on the kitchen counter.

You two had been out together when a fan approached you and asked for a picture. That wouldn’t have been a problem. They knew you since you spooked around almost every tour the boys played. The problem was how Noah openly flirted with the young lady.

You normally weren’t really jealous but somehow this just kicked the air out of your lungs.

"To me? Are you kidding me, Y/N? You are literally the one who is almost begging to keep our whole relationship a secret!" Noah answered you, crossing his arms in front of his body.

You would have lied if you said you didn’t know this was coming sooner or later. But you were just so afraid.

"I'm not… I… I just-…" You mumbled, seemingly not able to find the right words.

"You what, Y/N?" Noah almost spit out "You realised you liked us better when we were just friends?" - "No, Noah… I…"

"Then fucking explain why we are keeping this a secret? We've been dating for almost three months and nobody knows it, except Jolly!" Noah yelled at you, making you shrink a little.

Your mind started to race. You knew you acted stupid but you were just so afraid everything would change when you let the others know. You loved having this whole thing all to yourself.

You realised you had been quiet for too long when Noah sighed.

"You know what? Maybe this really was a mistake…" You felt your heart shatter to pieces when Noah walked over to your couch and grabbed his jacket before attempting to leave your apartment.

"Noah, wait!" You shouted after him but he headed out the door and slammed the front door right in your face.

You quickly ran after him, continuing to shout for him to stop.

"Noah, please wait." He was still walking straight to his car. You wrapped your arms around you since it was already dark outside and you hadn’t thought about grabbing a jacket.

"Don't fucking ignore me, Noah Sebastian!" You snapped and finally brought him to stop.

"Than tell my why the fuck you’re avoiding to tell Nick that we are dating?" He asked you with no emotion in his tone.

This was exactly what you didn’t want to happened. You could recall exactly how you told him you wouldn’t want to be the one to hurt him since you two saw each other get hurt by others way to many times.

"This is exactly what I meant back at the hotel room when I told you I don’t want to hurt you." - "Well congrats, Y/N, you fucking did, since I'm not even worthy to be your official boyfriend."

He attempted to open his car door but you found your way between him and the door.

"Step aside, Y/N." - "I'm afraid he will hate us."

"Why the fuck should he, Y/N? We’re literally adults! It isn’t weird that we fell in love. We literally have been attached at the hip since we were… what? 12?" Noah responded, not seeming even a bit calmer.

"I just don’t want this to change!" You than exclaimed and made things even worse.

His eyes changed again. They almost seemed glossy. His next words shot you right in the heart. "Well, if you don’t want this whole secret little thing to change, it means you don’t want to be with me."

With that he gentle shoved you to the side and got into his car.

"Noah, please don’t do this!" You shouted when he closed the door. You knocked against his window but he didn’t even look at you again before driving off.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

The forth time you had the chance to tell Nick, you did waste no time…

It took you about two hours to gather your confidence before you got into your car and drove to the boys' house.

When you parked in front of the house, your heart was racing. You knew you needed to clarify this now and you would not let anyone or anything hold you off.

You took a deep breath before getting out of you car and going up to the door to ring the bell.

To your surprise it was Noah who opened the door. His expression instantly darkened when he saw you. That hurt you more than words could ever do.

"What do you want?" He asked you plainly. "Let me in."

When he continued to stare at you blankly, not allowing you entry, you took your chance to slip inside when you saw Nick walk by.

"Nick, I need to talk to you!" You yelled at your brother, who stopped in his tracks to look at the two of you confused.

"What’s going on?" He wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his body, concerned by your expression.

"I'm in love with Noah." You directly shouted out, without thinking twice. You needed to do it now.

If Nick didn’t already look confused, he definitely did now.

"And Noah and I've been dating for almost three months." With that Nick's eyebrows lifted.

"And I didn’t tell you because I was scared that it will change everything but to be honest… I was fucking stupid… Noah is by far the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole entire life." You took a breath. "And I know this is a lot to process for you right now, but I am so in love with Noah it hurts and it hurts even more when I hurt him just because I’m to scared to tell my brother that I love him." You rambled.

With that silence came over the entrance room. You again took a deep breath. Right now you were more than relieved that seemingly no one else was downstairs except the three of you. Not everyone needed to hear your meltdown.

"So… you two are-…" Nick fumbled with his hands. You quickly looked at Noah, who seemed to have frozen in his place, just staring at you surprised.

"Yes… Yes, we are dating." You answered for the both of you, even though Noah technically broke up with you about two hours ago.

"And you’ve been dating since-…" - "The wedding in December." - "When you two left early that evening you were-…" - "Yes." - "Eww."

It went quiet again. Your brother seemed to process what you said to him while your hands sweated like crazy.

"And you aren’t kidding me?" - "Why should I?"

"Your telling me, you just started dating in December and not much earlier?" Your brother asked confused, causing you to start your rant again: "Yes, Nick. And I will not defend myse-… what do you mean 'not earlier'?"

"You guys have been eye-fucking each other since when? A year now?" Nick explained with a hint of disgust in his face. "Which, first of all, is super gross but it would have been weirder if I had brought it up."

"WHAT?" Noah was the one to exclaim that.

"Oh man, don’t try to argue with me… You were basically all over her other ever since Y/N and her ex broke up." Nick than said. "Starting with your private movie nights and ending with Y/N knowing about song ideas that I didn’t even know about."

"So you’re not mad?" You shyly asked your older brother, who chuckled a bit.

"Why should I? I'm actually surprised it took you so long… You were always slightly to close for your own good, ever since that night almost ten years ago… you know the video…" Again, while your brother looked slightly disgusted at the memory, Noah and you looked at each other knowingly.

"After you and your ex broke up, I was so convinced you two were already seeing each other and I'm not exactly blind or delusional, Y/N. At the very latest I knew you two were at least hooking up when you were sitting in Noah’s room with his shirt on and you two looking like total messes." Nick than proceeded to explain, causing your cheeks to heat up.

„So you just guessed it by yourself?" Noah than wanted to know from his best friend. "Maybe Jolly also kinda indicated that you two hooked up on my birthday, which I will never forgive you by the way!"

You looked totally flabbergasted by your brother's words and one look at Noah revealed he maybe looked even more surprised than you.

"So what? You gonna make up now?" Nick asked, already starting to move to the stairs. "You don’t have a reason to fight anymore. I won’t hate you… nobody will… You two are literally the two most important people in my life and I always thought you would eventually end up together. So don’t be so hard on yourselves."

With that Nick turned on his heel and left the two of you alone.

"I-…" You wanted to start but didn’t know what to say. "Yeah, I know." Noah just answered.

"I'm so sorry Noah. I should have just jumped over my shadow." You mumbled and turned to face him completely. He had taken a couple of steps towards you. "You are literally so important to me. I'm deeply sorry for hurting you and-…"

"Would you mind if you could shut up now and let me kiss you?" Noah than interrupted you and before you knew he grabbed your face with his hands and brought your lips together.

Everything inside of you started to tingle. You felt like a child laying in bed the night before their birthday. You felt like a teenage girl kissing her crush for the first time. Somehow this was also kind of true because when you thought about it… He was the one you always loved.

Ever since you had laid eyes on him, deep down you knew it was him. He was your person and you knew nothing on this planet would change the fact that you two loved each other deeply.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS THE END. I BEGAN TO WRITE THE FIRST PART ABOUT TWO MONTHS AGO BUT ALWAYS WAS WAY TO SHY TO POST IT ON TUMBLR. MY BOYFRIEND CONVINCED ME IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA AND WHEN I FINALLY DID, I DIDN'T KNOW THE BAD OMENS TUMBLR COMMUNITY WOULD WELCOME ME WITH OPEN ARMS. SO… THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO KIND AND I HOPE TO READ YOU ON MY NEXT WORKS! ~JAZZ ❤️

[wonijinjin]

thinkin’ about you

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘thinkin’ about you’ by seventeen. also, this fic will probably get a second part, because i just cannot leave this on a cliffhanger without a sequel, that would be a shame

update: second part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.2k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, kinda slowburn, the tiniest bit of hurt/comfort and angst, close friends to something more | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being tipsy/drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

your exam season at university was finally over, and to celebrate passing your tests you and your friends decided on going out to party at a club in the city. it was already past midnight, the party going on for several hours at that point, when you started to get really tired, having had multiple shots and cocktails, but your friends insisted on staying a bit longer. you could feel yourself get tipsier by the minute so you thought the safest option would be going home before you did something stupid or embarrassing you would regret in the morning. you took out your phone and dialed the first number that came to mind, your close friend’s, joshua’s. while waiting for him to pick up the phone your messy thoughts wondered to your long existing not so platonic feelings for him. he made your heart jump every time you thought about him, which was almost always, not just due to your feelings, but because you spent a lot of time with him on a daily basis as he was a very dear person to your heart. you have known him for as long as you can remember, and he was truly the most amazing friend you had, always being there for you, always treating you with so much care. he was like this with most of his friends, he cherished people around him and never took them for granted, you really admired him for this. you sometimes hated loving him, because it was so difficult to keep your emotions to yourself for this exact reason. who could blame you though? he was all anyone would wish for in a partner, kind, intelligent, considerate, caring.

“hello? y/n? what’s up?” he said as he picked up, voice hoarse, laced with sleep. “ah were you sleeping? sorry, should’ve known you need your beauty sleep to be this handsome.” you slurred, clearly more drunk than you thought. “were you drinking?” he questioned “are you hurt or something?” his voice sounded concerned. you laughed at this “nooo silly, i am perfectly fine, i had so much fun” there was a moment of silence before you continued “…but i need a favor, all my friends want to stay here longer, so i need a ride home. no way i’m getting into a car driven by a stranger, plus i don’t even have enough money for a taxi.” you expected him to say no, after all, it was in fact the middle of the night and he clearly had better plans on how to spend his. he sighed on the other end of the line “fine, i would much rather drive you home than letting you ask a stranger from the club to do it when you are clearly wasted as fuck.” he said while shuffling echoed in the phone, indicating that he was already getting up and changing. you knew he was right; you were not in the best shape. maybe the last margarita was a bit too much? “thank you shua baby.” the nickname slipped out on accident and if you were sober you would’ve gasped and started apologising right away, saying that he should forget about this, but you couldn’t really care less in that moment. you could hear the hitch in his breathing and the tension in his voice when he said goodbye over the phone, asking for your location and saying he would text you when he was there. you wondered; maybe drinking was a good decision, maybe getting a bit bold with words is what you needed as encouragement to tell him the secret you’ve been hiding for quite a while now, maybe you should really confess to him while you are not scared of the consequences.

20 minutes later you got the text from him and you were ready to leave. your confident march from the entrance to the car failed though when you tripped over your own feet, almost breaking half of your bones in the process. “oh my god y/n how much did you drink?” someone asked while helping in restoring your balance. you knew it was joshua right away, that voice cannot be mistaken for anybody else. “a little too much, i think?” you giggled. joshua took you to his car and opened the door for you to climb into the passenger seat. “wow thank you this is so fancy i feel like royalty.” you commented, still grinning. “well i do feel like a personal chauffeur now, coming here just to be taking your ass home. let’s go, put that leg inside so we can go, your highness.” he demanded while grabbing your leg, tired of waiting for you to clumsily get into the vehicle.

after he shut the door and got in himself to start the engine you two sat in silence for a little while before you spoke up. “i’m really sorry you have to take me home, i know i was selfish for asking, but i really didn’t have a better plan. i didn’t feel like i was this drunk when i was inside, but sitting here made me regret having the last drinks.” he looked at you at the red light. “look, i don’t mind this, really. you are one of my best friends, i would do this a hundred times if it meant you got home safely and some weirdo didn’t kidnap you or something. also, you thinking about me first when asking for help is quite flattering too you know.” he smirked. you nodded, eyes getting heavy suddenly from all that partying. “i can see you almost falling asleep. there’s a jacket on the back seat if you want it as a makeshift blanket. i will wake you when we get there. go to sleep y/n.” you didn’t bother to search for the jacket, just closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you. “what you said is true. i do think about you a lot, shua. probably more than a close friend should.” you mumbled, already half asleep, still not sobering up enough to control and censor your thoughts before saying them out loud. “what do you mean?” his eyes went wide and he looked in your direction as if he misheard what you had said, only to see you knocked out cold, sleeping soundly like a baby. on the way to your house he couldn’t stop himself from replaying your words in his head over and over again while he checked on you from time to time to see if you were alright. he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, that you might’ve felt something more for him, something friends don’t feel, something he had been suppressing for a long time, a warm feeling in his chest. when you arrived he turned off the car, however didn’t have the heart to wake you. he knew you were exhausted, so he draped his jacket over you, and let you sleep for a bit longer, watching you rest so peacefully after shaking up his heart with your drunk monologue. he didn’t know if he should believe you, if he really had a chance of being more than friends with you after all these years. he got comfortable in his seat, facing your form, eyes looking at your still face.

“i know you are sleeping, but just so you know we will definitely have to talk about this little sentence of yours in the morning y/n. i do think about you a lot too, you know? you need to be more clear next time, because you cannot do this to me, driving me crazy and leaving me to chase false hopes.”

[jackiequick]

I’m Already Gone | Top Gun Maverick Fanfic 📄

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw & Jennifer Mitchell

Summary: It happened in a blink, it happened in a flash, as that night ran cold and old as she had ever seen. What happened that night the papers were pulled? Heartbreak.

Timeline: Post Top Gun—Pre Top Gun Maverick

Characters mentioned: Pete Maverick Mitchell, Tom Kazansky, Carole Bradshaw, Dane Bradshaw, Austin Mitchell and etc

Song inspired fic: Already Gone by Sleeping At Last

——

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

In tears.

Sore throats from all the screaming and crying at 3 in the morning.

But it did.

Here’s what happened…

…it was a cold decision based night at The North Island. Pete was out pulling an all nighter, Austin was at Dane’s house doing god knows what and Jennifer was alone. At home, getting calls every few hours from her father to see how she was doing.

To be honest, she was doing fine. It was a rare occasion for the house to be quiet that late at night, usually there was some kind of noise being heard across the halls. Either from the boys or one of her friends.

But tonight, it was pure silence. You can hear the windows cracking from the drips of water outside, the sound of the wooden floor creek every once in a while, and the rumbling of car engines driving past the streets right outside her door. In the living room, she can hear it all too well.

It felt like a odd film she was placed in but she didn’t expect to be thrown in.

Her one thoughts were about Bradley. She knew he was sorta stressing the past few days about getting into the academy and proceeded in his dreams of becoming a pilot. She knew from stories that he always wanted to fly, just like his father Goose and unofficial uncle Maverick.

But Jennifer also knew the concept of events and consequences coming into that role. Deployment across the country, flying into dangerous territory, long distance trips from home and safe housing wasn’t always the best for pilots. Usually in secure parking areas but still.

A part of her wasn’t sure if she was ready to give that up yet, not having Bradley around everyday.

She didn’t know if she wanted that for herself either. She loved the idea of being in the air, cool tricks and taking a knowledgeable look at the world from the cockpit of your plane, it was a rush you can only imagine. But she loved being on the groundwork for things too, surrounded by family and friends. Teammates.

Jenny decided that whatever happens with that paperwork, she will be happy for him. It will hurt to see him leave her to go fly out into the world but she loves him either way…

Jennifer cleared her thoughts turning down the lights on the first floor and headed upstairs to her bedroom, free falling onto the mattress as she climbed underneath the covers, deciding to get some rest. It was late. Midnight. And she was still awake. So laying her eyelids shut for now, she curled up against the pillows and slowly nodded off.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

~~~~

The next moment happened in a flash, gently being awakened by the sound of footsteps on the first floor and small grunts. She couldn’t tell if that was her father’s footsteps or not, but just for precaution Jenny swiftly escaped the bed and grabbed the baseball bat from behind her door as she walked downstairs.

Even though she was groggy from sleep she held the baseball bat in her grip tightly, ready to swing at the figure she found in the kitchen sipping a glass of water. It confused her as she squeezed her eyes a couple of time, trying to wake herself up swinging a hit at the tall fellow who ducked.

It took Jenny a second to realize who it was, hearing a gulp a second later.

“Bradley?!” She asked, lowering her bat a bit.

“Yes? Who else do you think it is?” He exclaimed, sounding annoyed.

“S-sorry..w-what in heavens are you doing here it..it’s 2 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry I’ll be gone and out of your hair soon.”

“No? You came here for something..what was it?”

“I was looking for you and Maverick.”

“Why? What did i do?”

~~~~

Even with our fists held high

It never would have worked out right, yeah

We were never meant for do or die

~~~

Instead of saying a word, Bradley handed Jenny a slip of paper that seemed to be a bit wet and crumbled at the corners. It was at the same time, she noticed the look on his face. His hair was wetter than expected, patched of droplets over the shoulders of his shirt as his sweater lay on the chair next to the kitchen table and he was wearing sweatpants.

He had small bags under his eyes. His eyes were dropped onto her hands, as if he wanted to hold her.

To tell the truth, Bradley was craving from physical touch from her in the smallest way, shape or form. He has been a wreck all of a sudden after recycling that letter from the bin at home, that he grumped and threw away. He didn’t want to believe the words said on that paper, nor the fact that his suspicions were correct.

But a part of him told him they were.

He watched as Jenny read the letter, her expression changing every once in a millisecond from shock to sorrow all wrapped into one. He noticed her biting her bottom lip for a moment, as if she’s trying to take it all in with a scoff. A hint of a ever so tiny half smile was tugged at her lips, it was quickly changed but it was there.

He saw it.

Finally after a deep breath of silence waters, she looked up at him, her fingertips playing with the edges of the paper.

“I’m sorry Bradley..” She said in a soft whisper, as if she was gonna wake up a dog within the house, “..I know how much you wanted to fly..”

“I can’t do that now..” He replied with a soft haze voice, looking away for a second.

“You can always apply again, right? I mean, dad can pull a strings to have your application be seen early or maybe Ice do it?…”

“No. Don’t even mention Maverick.”

“Brad, honey, it’s not the end of the world. You will get other chances..i know you will.”

“Not with Maverick around.”

“W-what?”

~~~

I didn't want us to burn out

I didn't come here to hurt you now

I can't stop

~~~

He sighed and scoffed, “Jen, baby, don’t play dumb with me right now. You may be saying all of this but i don’t believe you. We both know how much you want me to stay here, we discuss it before!”

“That was a while ago! Yes it will take some time getting used to..b-but I wouldn’t stop you from flying!..wait you think i had something to do with this?” She asked, soften her gaze at the question.

“Did you? I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you pulled a stunt like that to protect me.”

“No. No, no, no! I-i would not do that. You can trust me on knowing that I wouldn’t go behind your back for that.”

“Jen..you are the closest person here to know if something that was up..d-did you have a feeling this would happen?”

“..I honestly don’t know. But you don’t get to come into my house in the middle of the night and accuse me for such a thing.” 

“Did you know that Mav would do this?”

“I..no. H-he would’ve pulled my papers too..”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he does or, he already did it and you just don’t know it yet! Maverick Mitchell has always been shown to be my biggest supporter but all of a sudden he pulls something like this? And the fact that i don’t know if i should believe you right now is what ticks me off.”

“Bradley wait..”

“I..you didn’t think i saw that little smile as you read the paper? Huh?!”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

Jen wouldn’t admit it but she did smile reading the whole thing, she didn’t want him to leave just yet especially at this young of an age. Tears slowly being welcomed into the corner of her eyes came despite on request.

But she wanted him to fly, enjoy his life even if she left to pick up the pieces at home.

“Okay, maybe i did smile, huh? Cause i don’t want to see you go or worse, have you slip away from my fingers the second you get the green light to do so?!” She yelled, as her temper started to reach up her back.

“I’m not going to leave you!” He replies back, with furrow eyebrows.

“You don’t know that! Austin’s planning on flying like dad, Dane wants to go into engineering planes and high tech jets! You’ve been ready to fly past the 7 seas since you were 8…i just thought maybe..maybe this was a sign that we will be alright..that i don’t have to say goodbye, yet..so yeah, blame me. Go ahead!”

“..blame you?”

“Mhm. Blame me..since you need someone to yell at..”

“Jen..i don’t..I don’t know what to think, okay? B-but I’m..The Navy is my dream, i always wanted to fly..but I can’t wrap my head around not knowing if I actually really got a chance to be there..and i want you there..with me.”

“Then why have you been so busy and in a hurry to get out?..but..not once have you mentioned about it was gonna be us there..just you. You alone, Brad.”

“It always occurred to me that you would be there..”

“It occurred to you that i would just be there with you?! W-what I didn’t want to?..i love you, Bradley, i do and I understand why you feel this way about everything but..there has to be something else right? Why are you in a hurry to get out?”

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

Bradley was silent at the question being repeated. He looked down, as his eyes finally watered. The sound of his sniffles could be heard as clear as day.

She can only guess the reason.

It’s been a less than a hectic year since his mother died. Carole Bradshaw death recked everyone. Leaving a painful scar in the family’s overall built, where it still felt a fresh opened wound.

She was like a mother to Jenny. Treating her with as much love, care and compassion than anyone can ever imagine. Hugs and kisses among all of the kids as her smile can light up the whole night sky.

And her laughter bringing souls together in a lifespan, just wanting to dance around the room. From her sass, to her wit and gossipy cheer.

“..my parents.” Bradley simply said, almost choking on the words.

“..Goose and Carole..that’s why you fight to hurry and fly..to chance that wish to be there..in the there with them.” She answered, looking away.

“Is it bad..? Is it so bad i want to touch the clouds like my dad did and come home to your waiting arms?”

“No..it’s not. It’s a dream but..I don’t know how long i can take waiting for you to come home..w-what if you don’t come home? A-a-an-and i get a knock on the door from a solider with—”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, Jennifer. It’s not gonna happen! I will come home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take the risk to see the world and be a pilot. You know that right?”

She walked away from the kitchen and into the living room as she sighed, “Here we go again..”

“What?” He asked, followed behind her.

“Again with the whole pilot talk! I get that, you want to be like your father but there is more to life than just flying Bradley!”

~~~

Looking at you makes it harder

But I know that you'll find another

That doesn't always make you wanna cry

Started with a perfect kiss

Then we could feel the poison set in

Perfect couldn't keep this love alive

~~~

~~~

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

~~~

He raised an eyebrow and scoffed loudly, “You’re serious? If it was anyone else, i would say you’re possibly right but you’re father is Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. If anything you know better than anyone how important that is!”

“And what if it isn’t?!” She spin around and yelled back, with a glare having enough.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“No, you don’t get it. I understand you very well and i love you for everything you stand for..but what if it’s short lived? I can’t watch you die, Bradley..I understand you’re mad at my father, you’re more than hurt and you might not trust what I’m saying right now but a part of me knows I’m sure..”

“..w-what are you saying? That your right here and I’m wrong? Cause i do get it! And I’m more than mad right now, I’m furious but whatever happens next..that’s my decision to make, Jen. I need you to know that.”

“..okay. I’m just trying to protect you Bradley but I won’t be there when you yell in my dad’s face tomorrow for pulling your papers..i want you to be okay.”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

At this point, her eyes were patchy with tears and her nose was reddish as she watched his face changed.

They were both on two different ends of the slightly aggressive disagreement. The two each had their reasons and doesn’t matter how many times they had to repeat them, until they got a point.

It was late.

They have been screaming and yelling at one another.

Their eyes were puffy and throats were dry, sore even.

Yes, they both wanted to touch the sky from the seat of their cockpits but they their reason weather or not to do so. Of course Jennifer wanted to fly just as bad as he did. But her fears and experiences from the family held her back.

The long distance trips, deployment, people she cared about dying young and old, and the navy not always living up to their truth.

She looked down at her necklace Bradley gave her months back on Valentine’s Day as a present, taking a deep breath removing it from her grasp and watching his face as she did.

Bradley’s eye furrowed in fear, annoyance and grief. His eyes flickered between every single way but meeting her gaze. He gulped, as the finger he used to point at her dropped and hesitated to raise again.

He shook his head, blinking twice walking forward in strives as his face said it all. He reminded himself at that moment how much love and respect he had for her, realizing how he basically bashed her more than once.

He didn’t mean to be this way. But watching her remove that single piece of jewelry he gave her the year before his mother died, the one was supposed to be used as a promise to her.

Well, it hurt.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

I'm already gone

Already gone

You can't make it feel right

When you know that it's wrong

~~~

“W-what are you doing? J-Jen don’t. Please, don’t.” He said, standing in front of her glancing at the clock, “..i love you. Don’t do this.”

She sucked in a breath and held out the necklace, “I know you do. But I can’t hold you back. As much as we love one another, and will always be in each other’s lives..right now, we can’t.”

“I want you!”

“You want to fly.”

“I want both!”

“You want to have it all but it can’t happen right now. I can’t be the one holding you back..”

“Jen please..I’m begging you. I’m sorry, we can work it out!”

“Not with your anger and pride taking over..”

“T-think about this! You’re making a mistake here, Jen. I can’t let you be gone.”

“I’m already gone.”

“You’ll regret this!”

“And so will you.”

~~~

I'm already gone

Already gone

There's no moving on

So I'm already gone

Already gone

Already gone

Ooh, oh

Already gone

Already gone

Already gone, yeah

~~~

Bradley didn’t say another word, closing the gap between them as he looped a finger underneath her chin and pressed a kiss onto her cheek.

He felt a salty tear run down her cheek and reach his fingertips wiping the other way. The other hand took the necklace from grasping palm, fumbling with the chain for a moment.

Jennifer wrapped her around his middle and pressed her face against his neck huffing, holding back a sob as she ran her fingers across his golden brown curls.

She kissed his cheek and then forehead gazing softly into his eyes. He half smiled, leaning into her touch and hummed.

She didn’t want to say goodbye either, but she could bare to witness this any further than what thoughts appeared in her heard. The hint of his cologne entered her nose as she sighed deeply.

Both didn’t want to pull away from another’s light grip.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~~

Bradley was the first to pull away noticing the white letters on the coffee table, one being addressed to her as he picked it up.

He signaled for her to open it. He knew she didn’t like to open mail late at night but he couldn’t leave without knowing she got in or not.

Either way, he will comfort her.

She hesitated for a moment, shaking her head but her actions speaker louder than words as she ripped opened the letter to expect something different yet familiar.

Her eyes ran across the page, handing it to Bradley as she gasped, hovering a hand over mouth. He read it quickly, eyesore scanning the sheet of paper to only sigh.

Same as him. She didn’t exactly get in.

The only thing he did was held Jenny in his arms, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a sob she was holding back. Tears rolled down his own face, baring his face into her hair mumbling a few things as they both sucked onto the couch.

No words were said, just soften noises escaped their lips. Resting her head against his chest, as he hummed staring at the wall.

Once again, their throats were sorely lacking as their faces remained dried up with fallen tear stains.

3 am.

They have been doing this for an entire hour.

Closed to almost 3:29am when Bradley stood up from the couch, resting a blanket across Jenny’s body.

Her eyes were nodding off as she whispered a soft, “..i love you..”

“I love you too..” He replied pressing a kiss to her forehead, “..get some rest.”

“You too..please?”

“I will..”

Without a second later, he walked out of the house with a small sigh and looked up at the sky that shined only a few stairs.

She reached over to the small lamp turning it off as her eyelids finally dropped, nuzzling against the throw pillow with a slight sigh.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

~~~

~~~

-> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic tell me what did you think about in the comments below.

-> Remember to like, share and reblog for more stuff like this!

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[mymainwastoocluttered]

Birthday Cake (Vil Schoenheit)

There's actually a tradition about birthday cakes back where the Prefect comes from.

Original idea by @strawberry-pie-thoughts

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

“What’s this now, you little rascal?” Vil pokes the girl’s side in the hopes of hearing her sweet giggling. “First you make me stay past my bedtime, then you expose me to the cold, and now you try to endanger my sugar intake?”

(Y/N)’s giggles only get louder as she holds onto the cupcake for dear life so it doesn’t fall in her laughing fit. Vil can’t help his own laughter, gently poking and pinching her sides a few more times before allowing her into his arms once again, burying his nose in her hair. The plan for tonight was to stargaze, but it’s far too cold for them to be outside, so instead they agreed on laying in his bed with the windows open.

How his girlfriend managed to dissuade Rook from barging in his room at midnight to wish him a happy birthday is beyond him, but he’s grateful nonetheless. They’re both very busy people, which makes time alone hard to come by, so being able to share his birthday with her, just the two of them, is truly a blessing. He knows that later there will be a party that he’ll have to share with his dorm and schoolmates, thus this moment is to be cherished.

“It’s not very sugary, though,” she says once the giggling subsides. “Trey and Rook helped me find a low sugar recipe and decorate it.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’m already endangering your skin with the late night and risking a runny nose with the window open, I can’t very well mess with your food intake, can I?”

They both know he’d absolutely eat the cupcake even if it was of pure sugar. Just today, though.

“So, here! Happy birthday, gorgeous~”

The cupcake is so beautiful, he can see the messy corners of the purple topping and how the golden candle is slightly crooked. Made of love. Made of love for his existence. Made of love he wishes they can forever share as he blows the candle. The wish leaves a sweet aftertaste on his mouth as he laughs at the happy face she makes when she pulls the candle out and places it on a napkin—not without licking the excess cupcake from it.

“Go on, eat! I swear it tastes good!”

“You should bite it first,” Vil offers the treat to her, kissing her nose softly. “Isn’t that how it goes in your world? The first slice goes to the person you love the most?”

And maybe he cheats a little and kisses her right after she takes a bite, the piece of cupcake sweetening their kiss, but, hey, how can he not love everything she does?

If Vil were to define a true blessing, one that isn’t dependent on consequence or condition, one that cannot be seen as a curse, then this moment right here would be it.

[amplifyme]

Squirm

The X-Files. MSR. Angst. UST. Implied self-harm. Post-Ep: One Son. Teen and up. WC: 3,333. Read on AO3.

Tagging @today-in-fic

He doesn’t wait for an invitation to come in, just pushes through the open door and past her, coming to a stop in the casement opening between the living room and kitchen.

“Mulder, what are you doing? It’s almost midnight.”

She looks small and fragile in her fuzzy white robe, and his mind conjures up the image of her standing slouched and nearly broken with grief in a hospital hallway in Allentown, Pennsylvania, two years past. Ages ago. Countless missteps ago. But he’d held her in his arms back then, held her up, and she’d held him up, too. He doesn’t know if they can ever get back to that. But he wants to try. He can’t stand any more of this icy détente they’ve uncomfortably settled into.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but we need to talk.”

Her sigh is long and audible. “Mulder, it’s late and I’m on my way to bed. Can it wait?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. You can sleep in.” And he thinks to himself, It needs to happen now, before I lose my courage. Before it gets worse than it already is.

“Okay, fine,” she sighs a second time in defeat, her chin dipping down. “What is it?”

This is his fault; it almost always is. He’s done this to her. Ground her down and made her question everything she thought she knew. Whittled away at her until she exists now as a shadow, an almost unrecognizable sliver of what she was when she first came to him. All because he’s an idiot, because he doesn’t know how to care for delicate things. Because he’s never wanted to, before now.

“I came here to apologize,” he blurts. This is not how he planned it, rehearsing the words on the way over. So many things just leave his mouth without thought of the consequences. “I was wrong.”

“An apology for what?” she asks warily. Her eyes slide across his as she tightens the belt on her robe. It doesn’t escape him that he fucks up often enough that she needs clarification.

“For what I said to you at the Gunmen’s the last time we were there,” he tells her. “Before everything went to shit. What I said about you taking things personally. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair.”

“Why?” she immediately challenges, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “Why wasn’t it fair? I’d like to know.” He won’t get off easily this time, nor should he. She wants it all laid out in front of them, poked at and prodded, questioned and analyzed, until there’s nothing left to hide behind.

“Because I make everything personal, Scully, everything. And it’s wrong of me to be dismissive when you do the same.” He swallows past the lump lodged firmly in his throat. “I think you’re… there’s a very good chance you were right. I’m not sure anymore that Diana can be trusted. Not like I thought she could.”

“Is your change of heart based on the fact that she crawled back into the woodwork as soon as you failed to show up at El Rico? Where has she landed this time, Mulder? Do you even know?”

No, he doesn’t. Diana hasn’t bothered to return any of his calls; all of them made after he went back to the Gunmen’s and did a deep dive into the information they’d compiled on his former friend and lover. And it’s déjà vu all over again: he’s down in the basement where he belongs, and Diana is just gone.

But that’s not Scully’s problem and he won’t let this train change tracks. So he reminds her, “You were right there with me that night. I wasn’t going anywhere without you.” She opens her mouth, but he raises a hand to stop her. He’s not finished yet. “Regardless. I’m sorry I treated you badly and dismissed your concerns. You don’t deserve that.”

“Well,” she says after an interminable time. “That’s a start, anyway.”

He knows he should be grateful and just keep his mouth shut, but since when has common sense ever triumphed over the wisecracking corner of his brain. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Easy, Mulder? Since when is anything ever easy with us?” She clearly has no patience for his misguided attempt at lightening the mood.

“All right. You’re right.” He runs a hand over his face. “Well, then, let’s just get this out in the open, okay? Acknowledge it, discuss it, and move on. What do you say?” He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, although when it comes it isn’t at all what he’s expecting.

“Have you been fucking her?” Her features are as sharp as her words, and he can’t escape the accusation of betrayal in her eyes.

“No!” He’s genuinely shocked that she would even think that. “God, no, Scully! I didn’t… I wouldn’t do that to you.“ He lifts his hands, pleading. “It’s not her I want.” He takes a step toward her, and her spine pulls straight as he hesitantly palms her shoulder and murmurs, “It’s not her I love.”

There. He’s said it. This second time feels less risky than his first, even coming as it does without benefit of opioids. That’s a good sign, right? That’s progress.

They lock eyes for long moments, playing chicken, neither daring to break the silence after his bold declaration. Finally, Scully wheels away and heads into the kitchen, yanking the tea kettle off the stove and filling it from the tap. She methodically goes about fetching mugs and a box of teabags from the cabinet. Mulder takes a few steps into the room, stopping at the table and laying one hand flat against the wood. He studies her from a safe distance and looks up quickly when she turns back to him.

“This is not about love, Mulder,” she announces. “This is about trust and where you choose to place it. It’s about respect.”

“You’re right, it is. And I’m sorry I fell short of that for you.” In for a penny, in for a pound, he thinks. “But this is also about whatever this… thing is… between us. I don’t know what you want from me anymore, Scully, or what you expect. Because you won’t tell me. You have to know whatever it is, it’s yours. It’s always been yours. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to fix it.”

“What do you want to do?” Her movements are jerky as she turns away to add a teabag to each mug.

Despite the emotional ground they’re uneasily treading, and his hyperaware sense of the danger inherent in pushing things with her right now, muscle memory refined over six years causes him to pull out a chair and take a seat. If Scully is making tea for them, then this is where he’s supposed to land: at her table and across from her usual spot. He scrubs his forehead and his tried-and-true method of deflection kicks in again just as the kettle begins to whistle and she yanks it from the stovetop.

“You want the Disney version or the two consenting adults version?”

“This is not a joke, Mulder.”

“No, it most certainly is not. So, answer me this one question, Scully. Do you love me?”

She swings around to face him, steaming mugs in hand, and he briefly wonders if she might launch them at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know. It’s a simple question.”

She doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, she takes the time to set a mug in front of him first, and warily sits down across from him. “It isn’t simple, though, is it?” she finally says. “And it isn’t a question I should have to answer.”

“Why? You think it’s inappropriate of me to ask?”

“No, I think it’s unnecessary. You already know. You’ve known for a very long time; even before I did. But that knowledge didn’t stop you from… Well, you know what it didn’t stop you from doing.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you come here to apologize for your behavior?” Off his nod she says, “Then you already know, don’t you?”

But that’s not what he’s asking. And he knows that she knows it and is doing some deflection of her own. Jesus Christ, how did they manage to get this fucked up?  “Are you gonna answer my question or not, Scully?”

“Why is it so important that I- “

“Because it fucking is!” He shoves away from the table and takes to his feet. The only part of Scully that moves are her eyes, tracking him on his way up and holding him there. “Because it would be nice to actually hear it, you know?” He can’t handle the way she’s looking at him, with her eyes all big and dark and bottomless, sucking him down into her depths. He could easily drown there. He turns away and raggedly confesses, “I can’t remember the last time anyone told me they loved me. You have your mom and your brothers and I’m sure you hear it all the time. But I don’t. And you won’t say it.”

He swings around to plead with her as the lead ball in his gut expands and makes it hard to breathe. He’s panting now and can’t seem to stop. His right hand lifts and presses against his chest, over his heart. He’s certain he’s just going to die. Crumple right here on Scully’s immaculately clean kitchen floor. “Sometimes I think I’ve lost my mind and I’m deep in a psychotic break and imagining things that aren’t there. If feels like the walls are closing in on me and there’s no escape. Sometimes I don’t know what’s real or what I should believe. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can start by sitting down.”

“What?” he gasps as she gets up and heads back to the cabinets. This time she pulls out two squat glasses.

“Sit down, Mulder, before you completely fall apart.” So, he does. Because she’s told him to and because she’s right. Usually with this amount of adrenaline pumping through him, he can find some slightly insane way to disperse a little of it. Like jumping off a bridge onto a moving train, for example. Or breaking into a top-secret air base. Or kicking down a door. Or any number of other incredibly stupid things. But he can’t do any of that right now. And he wouldn’t do that to Scully anyway.

“Now breathe,” she says very calmly. “Deep breaths.” Before he realizes what’s happening, she’s back sitting across from him, pouring out two hefty shots of whisky and pushing one of them his way.

“Drink.”

“Scully, I don’t -”

“Shut up and drink it, Mulder.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Okay,” he mouths. He screws his eyes shut, tips his head back, and throws it all down his gullet. It burns, god but it burns, all the way across the back of his tongue and down his throat and settles into a glowing ember deep in his belly. He chokes out a cough and forces his eyes open, blinking against the stinging tears gathering there.

“Jesus, Scully, are you trying to kill me?” He looks over just as she takes a delicate sip of her own drink.

“There are three fully loaded weapons in this apartment. If I intended to kill you, I wouldn’t waste this fine Irish whisky on you beforehand.” She reaches and pats his forearm, like she’s soothing a grumpy toddler, and announces, “We have to stop doing this to each other, Mulder.”

He folds both arms on the table and hangs his head, studies his trembling hands, and gives voice to an earlier thought as he wearily shakes his head. “We’re so fucked up.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“No,” he retorts, lifting his eyes and looking over at her. He’s pointing an accusing finger at her that he doesn’t recall cocking. “No, don’t talk like I’m the only one who’s fucked up here.” He is suddenly aware that his tongue is fuzzy and feels larger in his mouth than it should. He always has been a cheap drunk. “You’re just as fucked up as me, Scully.”

He reaches for the bottle and splashes another, narrower shot into his glass. He downs this one without preparation or build up and looks over to find her watching him. Her features mimic the look he usually sees when she’s trying to process one of his more outlandish theories. The one that’s accompanied by a tight little smirk. He wants to kiss that smirk right off her face. More than anything.

“I don’t want to have any more regrets, Scully. I don’t want to lose the chance to love you the way I want to, the way you deserve. Just tell me what I have to do.” He punctuates his request with a third shot. This one doesn’t creep up on him like the first two have. It’s more like one second he’s pretty much okay, but the next he most definitely is not. He hasn’t been this buzzed, this quickly, in a long time. Scully pulls the bottle over to her side of the table and caps it. Probably for the best, he blearily decides.

“When’s the last time you slept, Mulder?”

There she goes again, throwing nonsensical questions at him from right field. He played right field in high school. It takes a good arm. “I dunno. When did we get back from Florida; two days ago? I slept that night,” he answers, and his mouth doesn’t move quite enough to enunciate properly. He blames it on his fat tongue and the whisky. Did she intend to get him drunk? He wouldn’t put it past her. So he asks.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Scully? You don’t have to do that if you want to take advantage of me. Despite your protests, I’m actually pretty easy.”

“In that respect, I have no doubt,” she responds smartly. “But I have no intention of taking advantage of you tonight.”

“Ah, come on. You can admit it to me. I won’t tell anybody.”

“My only intent is to put you to bed so we can both get some badly needed sleep.” He can imagine the look he’s presenting her. He felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop open. “Not with you in my bed, Mulder. I’m assuming you drove over?”

“Yeah,” he sheepishly admits.

“Then you have no business driving. The couch is yours tonight. There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. Feel free to use it. I’ll make up the couch for you.”

That’s it, then? They’re not going to hash this out tonight, once and for all?

“But, Scully,” he begins as she leaves the table and heads for the linen closet in the hallway.

She stops and swings back around to him. Her little fists rest at her hips, knuckles digging into the curvy flesh there. “Yes, Mulder, I do love you. There, now I’ve said it. It might be nice to hear, but it doesn’t solve our problems, does it?”

“Do you mean it?”

“Oh, Mulder, of course I do. I’ll meet you in the living room in five, okay?” And then she disappears around the bend.

He ponders his choices for a few seconds, the best he can, and decides to follow Scully’s lead. After all, he can be a good boy, and easily obedient when he wants to be. So he does as he’s been told for the first time since the last time she ordered him around. He sways in his chair a little and then folds in half and carefully unties his sneakers and toes them off. He heads for the short hallway in the opposite direction of the way she went, and they pass like two ships in the night, Scully’s arms full of bedclothes and a pillow.

He makes it back to the living room in under five, breath minty fresh, face scrubbed clean, bladder emptied. He considered shedding his jeans and tee in the can but decided against it. Bad enough he’s shouldered her with taking care of his drunk and maudlin, half-crazed and anxious self tonight. She shouldn’t have to put up with him in nothing but his boxers and socks on top of that. Somehow his belt has ended up slung around his neck, though, and he fakes hanging himself when Scully glances up at him from bed-making duty, gathering both ends of the leather in a fist and cocking his head to the side, tongue lolling out. He adds sound effects, too, so she’ll get the whole picture.

“Don’t give me any ideas, Mulder.” She punches the pillow for emphasis. He inspects her work and nods approvingly. She’s created a fine little nest for him. There’s even a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol waiting for him on the coffee table.

She straightens and turns to face him and he’s feeling suddenly shy and a little bit ashamed. This late-night visit hasn’t gone down anything like the way he thought it would. He buys himself a few seconds, dropping his gaze and absently scratching his belly. He sneaks a peek at her from the tops of his eyes. “Would it do any good to apologize?”

“You’ve done it once already. That’s enough for tonight,” she proclaims.

“Because I really am sorry, Scully. For makin’ you doubt how important you are to me.”

“I don't doubt that. I just wish your methods of expressing it were a little less…” She circles an open hand in the air, searching for the right words, he guesses.

“Messy?” he offers. “Thoughtless. Boneheaded. Selfish. Stupid,” he finishes. “Take your pick.”

“All of the above,” she decides. But the corners of her mouth have lifted just the tiniest bit and he’s momentarily overwhelmed by the depth of her generosity when it comes to him and his foolish ways. “C’mere, Mulder, I’ll tuck you in.”

He carefully weaves his way around the coffee table and his belt hits the floor. He sits down and she squats and pulls off his socks and tosses them over her shoulder. Another few positional adjustments later and he’s under the blanket, his heavy, fuzzy head sinking into the feather pillow beneath him. She perches on the edge of the couch and smooths the soft blanket over his chest.

“Do you think you’ll need to vomit? I can grab a trash can for you, so you don’t have to worry about making it to the bathroom in time.”

He smiles up at her and thinks about how nice it would be to close his eyes while she continues to gently pet him. And then he does close them. “M’fine, Scully. I can hol’ my liquor.” Her snort of laughter shocks his eyes back open, and he has to blink a few times before her face comes into focus.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Something she’d said to him earlier resurfaces in his head and he echoes the words back at her as his eyes slip shut again. “We gotta stop doin’ this to each other.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she says. “But not tonight. Go to sleep, Mulder.” And then she’s gone from his side. And as he begins to sink into what will be a rare dreamless sleep, he can hear her putting mugs and glasses in the kitchen sink and turning out lights, putting her home to bed, just like she has with him. And he thinks that he loves her so much that he’ll never find the perfect way to show her. He thinks that this unique alchemy, composed of the exquisite pleasures and deepest pain that loving her brings him, makes him feel the most alive that he has ever been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes:

So in the midst of working on my passion project, that elusive One Breath fic, the muse approached me bearing a silver platter on which a tiny seed lay. “Here,” she whispered in my ear. “Let’s take a minute and plant this one, see what grows.”

I have no shame. I am her bitch, now and forever, world without end. I will always do her bidding.

Till next time…

[z-and-the-space-child]

lil midnight burger ficlet! (since the mb ao3 is pretty dead) "The next best thing"

Leif is in pain and feeling guilty about his demons. Gloria helps him out. Set during s2. pretty much revolves around using pain as punishment/reminder, so CW for that. enjoy!

Leif is staring down the metal prep counter. He’s not staring at his reflection because the lights are off in the diner - it’s been an hour since close, and there’s a few more before takeoff. Gloria enters - she was planning to take some inventory before bed and stands in the kitchen doorway, hoping to make him jump once he notices. He doesn’t, and now it won’t even be funny anymore if he did, so she knocks on the wall twice before turning on the lights.

He flinches back slightly but doesn’t jump, looking up at Gloria. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she enters the kitchen, approaching him, “what’s going on?”

He’s stopped staring at the counter, still leaning against it, his hands likely leaving heavy smudges that she’ll have him wipe off tomorrow morning. “I’m trying to decide if I should make myself some ibuprofen.”

He’s avoiding her eye contact, so she mimics him, propping herself against the counter. “Why?” She doesn’t mind the worry seeping through her tone because he deserves to know she’s worried for him, that she cares for him.

He mumbles some unintelligible noises before sighing, finally looking back at her. “My shoulder’s been acting up.”

“Oh. Did something happen in service?”

“No,” he says, low, rubbing the offending shoulder, “it’s just a flare. I injured myself once, back then, and it never fully healed.”

Gloria sets a gentle hand on the other shoulder, guiding him to sit down. “That sounds painful, Leif. You never told us you had pain.”

Leif shrugs. “It’s not chronic. It’s barely even pain.”

Gloria stares at him in dismay. “What is it, then?”

He sighs, taking a moment to collect himself. Gloria waits on the opposite chair intently. “It’s a consequence. I’ve been seeing… feeling these consequences around me so often, all the time. But for the longest while, I’d felt so far removed from them. So, I used this as a reminder.”

Gloria nods slowly, digesting it. Leif is slow to talk about his past, so she lets him take his time, sitting in comfortable silence and the like. “A reminder of the nondescript bad things you did?”

“Yep.” He doesn’t look up, “for all the screwed-up things I did as a space pirate, I need to feel this. I just do.”

His hands are lying flat on the table. Gloria wants to reach out and squeeze them, but she doesn’t for fear that he’ll flinch away. He’s a very boisterous engineer, thinking and building out loud, but the moment he’s put under any kind of examination himself, he squirms like those amoebas you can see under a microscope.

“You can’t fix what happened, now, can you, Leif?”

He shakes his head gently. “No. The damage is done, I’m afraid.”

Gloria ducks her head down so she can look him in the eyes. “Leif, you know how the best thing that we can do to make things right is to fix things?”

“Yes…”

“What do you think the next best thing is?” He deflects, “is this turning into a thought experiment?”

“I have no idea what that is, Leif. Just answer the question.”                  

Leif scoffs. “I think it’s a trick question, then. There is no next best thing.”

Gloria shrugs. “I think there is. If you can’t fix what happened, and you can’t change what happened, then you change yourself. And that includes recovery.”

“Gloria-”

She waves a hand at him, functionally shutting him up. “Listen. You were a part of what happened, and hurting won’t change that. You deserve to feel better.”

He chews on that for a moment, fidgeting in his seat. “Do I? After all the hurt I’ve caused, I think this is the least I could do to myself.”

“This isn’t the next best thing," she repeats, "letting yourself suffer continually in the name of guilt. The fact that you’re letting it happen tells me that you’re already guilty. That you’re worried that if you’re not in pain, you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

“What if I shouldn’t be doing the next best thing?” He bristles.

“That’s not how we run this diner, Leif,” Gloria responds rigidly, with a quick shake of the head, “we all are doing our best. You are, too, and you know that.”

Leif breaks another creeping pause with a whisper, “you're going to need me out there, tomorrow.”

Gloria nods, “indeed I will.”

“-but I still think I need the pain as a reminder. Just in case.”

“Leif,” she asks, adjusting her tone to be soft yet firm, “can I ask you one more question?”

“You’re going to anyways.”

“Is this pain your moral compass?”

He taps the table a few times, stretches an arm out. “No.”

It’s all Gloria needs to hear. She places her palm flat on the table and looks up at him. “Stay put, alright? I think we have a first aid kit with some painkillers.”

He nods, and he’s still there when she returns.

[theblankspaceinthepages]

midnight write

slenderverse shit go brrr

you would’ve never understood how it felt to be BURIED by the ones you thought could’ve cared enough, to be STABBED AND DEALT SO HORRIBLY BY THOSE WHO SWORE.

The mere thought of everything that had once happened was INFURIATING. I trusted him, i trusted them all. And for what? TO BE KILLED OVER AND OVER. TIME AND TIME AGAIN.

MY CLOCK HAS BEEN TICKING OFF ITS ROCK FOR TOO LONG. I hold the clock now, i count the days. My seconds turned into hours.

I trusted and it brought me nowhere, i do the opposite and still nothing. There is nothing in this world to fix what was broken. To fix what was SHATTERED of my identity and my life. Like a broken pocket watch ticking despite its state. I tried and i prayed, i still died.

PAY FOR THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE ACTIONS YOU CHOSE. I USE TO HAVE A FUTURE, NOW I DON’T EVEN HAVE MY PAST. ALL I HAVE IS MY PRESENT AND THE TIME. How much time to i have left? tick tick Like it matters, it really doesn’t. tick tock Why would it matter up to this point? They’ll do it again, and again, and AGAIN.

I pleaded and cried for no more, i had an entire life ahead of me and they ruined it for some creature.

I used to be human; now i can’t even be recognized as one. I’m trapped within its own prison of memories, never to be able to help myself or try and salvage what was done. I swim to the very top just to die again. i’ve tried many tricks, ideas, distractions, etc. i still died. Will there ever be a place where i live? I’d rather die by my own hands than yours again. You stained the glass that was already perfectly stained.

You broke my clock, and for that i will break you with a rock.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Carnal Ch. IV | Either Way, We're Not Alone

Carnal (adjective): relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Simon was born with what his father called 'The Curse'. A wanton craving for taboo meat. Since meeting the similarly cursed Johnny, the two had formed a bond. They didn't just fight together, they ate together, slept together, and shared everything.

When a favor to Price reveals another cursed person, Simon worries she could destroy everything.

A horror AU inspired by Bones and All and Raw among other works. TW: Blood, gore, cannibalism, smut, violence,

Masterpost | AO3

Title Credit: I Know The End - Phoebe Bridgers

Heavy bangs on the door roused him. It was Price. He could smell the cigars. Simon shrugged a mask on as he stumbled to the door. It was still dark outside. He checked his phone, he’d barely slept for two hours. What the fuck could have happened at half past midnight that deserved this treatment. 

“I’m calling in a favor. Get dressed and meet me by my car in five.” Price’s voice was hushed but severe. His gaze flicked about to make sure no one saw them talking. “I’ll get MacTavish and Garrick.”

Simon was too tired to argue or ask questions. He pulled on a ratty navy jumper and put on his boots, not bothering to change from his joggers. He jogged across the base, keeping out of sight from others till he reached Price’s car.

He hadn’t really talked to Johnny since that August night. Outside of work, they didn’t have much to talk about now. Simon knew he was harsh, no, he was cruel. Crueler than he needed to be. He kicked him down like a dog, again and again whenever he tried coming back. He’d given up mid-September. He stopped sitting next to him, stopped knocking on his door, stopped looking at him. It hurt, yes, but cutting the cord was better than having it severed by someone else. Maybe he should have explained himself better even if it made it harder. 

Johnny and Kyle were already in the backseat, letting Simon take shotgun. Johnny was still rubbing sleep from his eyes and Kyle yawned as Simon closed the door. Price had a cigar already lit.

“Whatever happens tonight, we never speak of it again, understood?” He finally spoke. The three men nodded in agreement. They’d follow Price to hell and back without question. “There was an accident at my goddaughter’s house. We’re going to fix it.”

“Sir? What kind of…accident?” Gaz asked. 

“I never liked that bastard she’s been dating.” Price huffed out. “I told her that she shouldn’t let him move in. Fucking leech. I don’t know exactly what happened. She said he hit her and now, well,  he's dead. ”

“You want us to get rid of the body,” Simon connected the dots. Price gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles were white. He didn’t look pleased about the idea. Simon had never heard of Price having a goddaughter before.

“Yes.” Price tossed the end of his cigar out the car window. “I’ll take full responsibility for any consequences. If any of you want out, you can get out now. If you’re willing, I need the help. ”

“I’ll help,” Johnny answered quickly. Always the hero. Simon resented his eagerness. Abusive pricks were his preferred taste treat. This wasn’t a meal ticket. He was insane if he thought they’d get a pound of flesh off the corpse with Price, Kyle, and the god daughter around. 

“I’m in,” Kyle affirmed. 

“Ghost?” Price was looking at him. 

Simon nodded.

Price seemed anxious, a rare sight on any occasion. He was quiet till the lights faded away and they were left alone on the dark rural road. Simon preferred to gaze out the window, watching the countryside pass by. He preferred it to the cities he’d spent his life living in. The isolation and sprawling green made him feel safe. He wasn’t trapped in a shoe box flat, he had the whole world around him. 

The drive wasn’t long. Less than thirty minutes. Price was slow as they turned up the driveway.  It was an old Georgian-style home, a big brick rectangle with white shutters and a grey roof. There was a single light on in the front room. The curtains had been drawn over all the windows. It was quiet and he could smell blood. 

“I’ll let you know when to come in,” Price said. He only needed to knock once before the door swung open. 

She was trembling in the doorway. She was thin, even through the plush robe he could tell she was all bone. It was hard to believe she could hurt someone enough to kill them. Price quickly guided her back inside and shut the door behind them. 

“What do you think she did?” Johnny was almost drooling. Almost two months since they last ate together. They weren’t starving but the hunger was starting to become uncomfortable. Simon dug his nails into his legs. Control was all that mattered now. 

“If Price taught her anything, she probably got him good,” Kyle said, his gaze flickering between all the windows - waiting for another light to turn on. 

“Do you know her?” Johnny asked.

“He’s mentioned her in passing but I’ve never met her. They go hunting together sometimes when he has leave.”

Simon shrugged. Johnny was trying to hide how eager he was to get inside. He didn’t blame him. The dead man’s blood smelled good even from the car. 

It was fresh, probably staining the floorboards as they sat there. They’d have to be replaced. Unfortunate if they're original to the house, can’t find wood like that anymore. The door opened again and Price beckoned them in. 

The four met in the entry hall. She was sitting on a sofa in the living room to the left. She was despondent, staring at the wall. 

He learned at a young age that blood smelled differently to him. It had a coppery undertone but some people smelled so sweet it would rot his teeth while others made him grimace. There was an undercurrent in the house. It wasn’t the blood of the dead man upstairs, it was a familiar scent. The musk you’d find on used bedsheets and dirty laundry. The same aroma that poured off Johnny. That musky smell of one of his own kind. Her’s was mixed with a sweet smell of vanilla. 

He wanted to know if Johnny noticed or if he was too focused on the midnight snack upstairs. It was hard to believe that there could be three of them all in one place. He didn’t know if Price was unlucky to know three cursed or lucky that he was still alive after all this time. 

“Alright, he’s upstairs. Kyle, she said he installed cameras in the house. I need you to find them and destroy them. His laptop and everything is in here,” He handed Kyle a leather briefcase. “Soap, Ghost, go upstairs and prep the body, try to clean up a bit too.  There should be a tarp and rope in the barn, I’ll fetch it and we’ll move him out of the house.”

“After that?” Simon asked. 

“Still working on that part.” He chuckled before quieting to a whisper. “Leave her be for now, alright?”

They all nodded before heading their separate ways. Kyle set up in the dining room with the boyfriend’s laptop. Simon and Johnny headed upstairs wordlessly. 

There was a mint green towel with a dark red stain over his head. More things to burn, he thought. Johnny was already tearing it off as Simon shut the door behind them. A small bedside lamp gave the only light. It was overtly feminine with pink flowers on a white background covering the walls and lacy pillows adorning the bed. The dresser and bed skirt were splattered with blood. 

“Simon, look at this.” Soap was kneeling by the body, his lips wet with drool. He was pale. Price obviously hadn’t seen the body. His face was mangled, the meat of his cheeks were missing and his ear was hanging on by strings. A chunk of flesh had been ripped out of his throat so deep Simon could see his esophagus. This wasn’t just hunger, this was rage. Whatever this man had done, he’d awoken something in her and paid the price for it. Johnny wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand. “She ate him, didn’t she? She’s like us.” 

“Cover him back up. Price can’t see that.” Simon ordered. He never should have come here. This woman was careless. “Don’t touch him.”

Johnny’s eyes were glazed over. Simon knelt down and pulled him backward. Johnny didn’t have the control he needed for this. He hooked his arms underneath the other man’s armpits and pulled him to his feet. 

“We’re leaving. Now.”

“I’m fine.” Johnny snapped, ripping himself away.

“You’re not. You’re slipping,” Simon growled. He grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled them both to the door. It was open and Price stood in the doorway.

He wasn’t even looking at them. He was staring at the body with a deep look of sadness on his face. 

“Did she do that?” He rubbed a hand over his face. There was no real way around it. Neither of them were going to take the blame. They didn’t know this woman. “Jesus Christ, Nina.”

Price grabbed the towel and tossed it back over his face. 

“Take my car and head back to base with Gaz. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I’ll handle everything.”

“I said I’d help, Sir. I’m staying.” Johnny said. Simon didn’t even realize he’d broken free again. “We won’t tell anyone about this.”

Simon bit back his tongue. They should leave. Leave Price to deal with this. She was proof that his fears were right. One slip up and everything would come tumbling down. This woman ate her boyfriend’s face and now Johnny was jumping headfirst into the shallow end of her consequences.

“You’re a good man, Soap. Don’t let me drag you down.” He hung his head low. Simon remained quiet. Nothing he said or did know would fix what was already fucked. Price looked up and called out “Nina! Come up here!”

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree

Comment or DM me if you want to be added

[yolowritter]

A Case of Ladybug Luck: Chapter 3

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to Hell! Listen, I've used up most of the good intro analogies in the actual fic, so that's all I got. But hey, I'm back with chapter 3 of ACOLL! Mind you we have 26 of these as of right now, so my blog has catching up to do! Anyway, I figured I'll give you guys the link for each one of these and a snippet, as before! Again, if anybody wants to ask questions/chat, comments and anon asks are always open!

As always, snippet is below the cutoff!

It was well past midnight, and Shadowmoth stood in his lair, waiting. Barely any moonlight lit up his lair, but he did not mind. The mood was quite perfect for the emotions he could feel. Yes! He’d known the opportunity would arise again! He was sure!

“Ahh…a soul broken beyond repair by betrayal and deception! A shattered friendship and a heart in torment! Fly away my little Akuma, and evilize Marinette Dupain Cheng! Let us give Princess Justice the justice she so craves!”

His insane laugher echoed through the lair, but not a sound escape into the outside world. Here, he was alone. Here, he was powerful. Here, he was a king! And soon, so very soon, his dear Emilie would be joining him! At long last!

He could sense Nooroo in the back of his head. Always preaching caution, warning, advising him to stop, just for a day. Duusu was faintly present also, but she was barely a whisper. He ignored them. The Kwami had never wanted him to use their powers, but even if it had been an evil cause he was working towards, what consequence could that possible have on him?

He’d taken the legal precautions, he almost never left his lair, his home. Ladybug and Chat Noir would never find him. The Grimoire, the two Miraculous were his. What was the consequence? Nothing more than Nooroo’s feeble attempt to protect himself, as if it would ever make a difference! As if! Nothing would stop him! Nothing could stop him! He was Hawkmoth, he was the scourge of Paris! He was… he was…

Who was he?

What was he?

What was happening to him?

Shadowmoth shook his head, sharply turning to the skyline. No matter. The Akuma edged ever closer; he could see it! Through the butterfly’s senses, he felt the world around him. Rain pouring down from the sky, slamming against his wings. Desperation, worry and despair from two souls who ran amok in the dead of night, searching. Pain. Heartbreaking, endless pain from his target.

There she is…

A vivid image entered his mind. Princess Justice, wet to the bone, standing on the railing of a bridge, the waters below bashing against the stone and nearly escaping to the streets. The turned suddenly, and looking directly at the Akuma. At him.

He heard her scream in fear, or maybe he felt her panic spike. The others were drawing closer. It was not or never. Thoughts were running through her head endlessly, creating a myriad of wonderful negativity that he would use to destroy Ladybug and Chat Noir!

Lila, she’s laughing at me. She- she’s won.

A-Adrien, I’m sorry!

Mama…

Papa…

Goodbye.

He saw her form begin to lean over, he heard the sound of shattered glass, he sensed her despair. His connection with the Akuma snapped. He couldn’t feel Princess Justice anymore. Ladybug wasn’t there. She couldn’t have reached the butterfly. Impossible. Then-

Then Princess Justice was dead.

Princess Justice was dead.

Dead.

Shadowmoth’s transformation fell, his mind too exhausted to keep up. Gabriel tried to lean on a cane that wasn’t there, and fell to his knees. The last thing he had felt…was fear. Absolute existential terror, at the mere idea that he would get to her. That he would make her fight her loved ones. That he would make her hurt them. He’d seen her jump.

He just killed someone.

[writerswhy]

On Alicent and religion

So, I came across this Midnight Mass gifset and these two quotes:

He doesn't understand yet that guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that others have done to you. -Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace

I would like to be found. I would like to see. Or to be seen. I wonder if, in the eye of God, it amounts to the same thing. As it says in the Bible, For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. If it is face to face, there must be two looking. -Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace

And since then, I’ve been mulling over Alicent’s relationship with religion for the past few days because if there’s one thing that irks my soul, is when (western) writers write religious women as tradcath bitchy hypocrites (as opposed to religious men who use their religion as some sort of selfless sacrifice), especially when said woman is a victim of abuse. 

Instead of exploring Alicent’s religiousness as a way to cope with the abuse she endures, as part of her socialization and the community and culture she comes from, as a way to validate her innate kindness in a world where she’s surrounded by Machiavellians and careless people who can get away with things she cannot, the show manages to victim blame her by the way they frame her religiousness. That it’s another chain in this patriarchy without ever engaging with the actual patriarchs who actively abuse her on-screen. 

Something else that I want to highlight is that these systems that Alicent faces are faceless and abstract which makes the grief and anger and helplessness nearly impossible to work through. As a result, she ends up internalizing these roles - daughter, wife, mother - and when they contradict each other, or when external forces push and pull her, she ends up blaming and sacrificing herself. (As opposed to a man in Westeros like Aegon - her mirror - who can whore and drink and fight with little consequence, he may even be praised.) 

One day I’m gonna sit down and actually take my time to write these thoughts down, but here are some quick notes that I’m trying to sort through. (Note that it’s difficult for me to reconcile some of these with the Alicent(s) we see onscreen. Cooke is one of the best actors on the show but the writing for her has not been my favorite. I feel like Carey’s Alicent was more cohesive and consistent, so some these points apply more to ep 1-5 Alicent than later on.):

1. The first instance we see of her religiousness comes from a place of love. She visits the sept to feel closer to her mother and shares this with Rhaenyra to help her grieve. She uses her religion to comfort herself and connect with loved ones - living and dead. (Aegon does the same when he hides in the sept under the mother. Did he learn this from her? Did he learn this while studying the Faith of the Seven?)

2. If this greater being meant to comfort her and guide her tells her through its teachings that the very behavior she’s punished for is actually holy and human (that’s it’s right), does it help Alicent feel less alone? And if she has someone to share this belief with, like Criston? 

3. Does she channel the gods when she needs to compromise with who she is and who she needs to be? For example, Alicent was compassionate and loyal to Rhaneyra when defending her claim early on. After Rhaenyra’s betrayal, fearing for her children and honestly, it’s okay if she was offended and felt played by Rhaenyra, when she shows up to the wedding dressed in green, as a Hightower (no longer a dutiful wife), did she draw strength from the mother and father to seek justice for her and her children and to protect her family? 

This third point is so interesting to me because that’s what many real people do in real life everyday. We have to find ways to cope with life and learn how to understand ourselves, our wants, and how we can make them fit in this world. Obviously you don’t need religion to do this, but many do and in my community, religion is what keeps us grounded yet hopeful. Some of us live lives where if it were not for their religion, they’d feel less human under the systems that dehumanize them.

[fandomfourever]

Random Scooby Doo Thoughts My Brain Had in the Middle of the Night

I don’t know why but my brain decided to come up with this whole thing at like midnight-1 am, and I’m not even like, a huge Scooby Doo fan (meaning I have watched several episodes of the original and What’s New Scooby Doo, some movies, the Supernatural crossover ep, and all of Mystery Inc, but I’m not super knowledgeable on all the lore and there’s several versions of Scooby Doo shows and stuff I haven’t watched), so keep that in mind with the rambling going on below, lol.

So as of seeing the discussions on Velma, and various people talking about how it was meant to be a more “adult” version of Scooby Doo and how well that turned out /s, I figured I’d throw my two cents in about what I personally would like a more grown-up/adult version of Scooby Doo to be.

The kind of more adult version of Scooby Doo I’d personally like to see, would be something along the lines of like a combination of Criminal Minds/Supernatural/Stranger Things. Meaning, the Scooby Gang would be adults, probably in their late 20s or early 30s, and solving mysteries would be their jobs, and the mysteries would be perpetrated half the time by humans, and half the time by monsters (or some other kind of split, but I think the addition of the supernatural would be key) but they never know which it is until they’re already on the case, obviously. However, the government would be paying them for the human crimes, and covering up the actual monster crimes. I would’ve gone with the freelancer type business where the government isn’t involved, but I think having this dynamic could open up some interesting plot lines of corrupt government and such.

The mysteries/crimes they’d be solving would be less “masked person scares people off the land they want to steal” (though this could still obviously be part of it), and more like, legit murders and kidnapping happening. The stakes should be bigger, and consequences more severe. It doesn’t have to be super gory, but I think keeping it along the lines of the shows I mentioned would be good.

The tone of this would be obviously darker than most versions—including Mystery Inc—but it would still retain its humor. I’d want it to reference other versions of Scooby Doo, either through characters coming back from older versions, or as past mysteries they’ve solved and talk about.

When it comes to characterization and their roles on the team:

I’d see Fred as for sure the Trap Guy, but he also takes on a more leader-like role (like Hotch from CM) but also still be a little silly (I’d also think of him a bit like Dean from SPN). He’d be the one coming up with the main plans still. The key is that he’s a good dude! A proper Himbo, not a manbaby.

Daphne would mostly handle the PR aspect of the job, though she also is capable of fighting if need be (think a combo of JJ and Prentiss from CM). She would obviously still be going out “in the field” with the group. I think she and Fred would be the ones that would be taking the brunt of actually talking to local government officials and “upper class” witnesses/victims wherever they go for cases.

Velma is their tech girl, and does a majority of the research. She’d have hacking skills, too, but she wouldn’t be left behind, she’d still go with the rest of the gang (think a combo of Garcia and Reid from CM, but also Sam from SPN). Her research handles the more human crimes than monster crimes.

Shaggy and Scooby would still be cowards, but I think this would lend well to their roll in the group. I’d have this be why Shaggy actually has a lot of knowledge of the monsters/supernatural. Due to being scared of so many things, he wants to be ready, just in case the crimes are being committed by monsters.

Scooby would talk in this, due to being of supernatural origin himself. I’m unsure if the alien lore for him is only in one version of Scooby Doo, or if it comes up in multiple versions, but it would either be he and his family have alien heritage, or some sort of fae. Either way, in this none of them would know at first, but Scooby would have the natural ability (though it’d need training) to sense the supernatural.

Eventually we’d get Fred and Shaggy, and Velma and Daphne becoming couples. Because I say so, lol.

When it comes to the actual setting of this, I’m kind of split.

I think one interesting way of going about it could be setting this in the 90s, where they would’ve been born in the 60s/70s (ya know like when the original series came out ;) ). With this, Shaggy would’ve grown up in a hippie family, perhaps nomadic as well up to a point (settling down when he reached middle or high school allowing him to meet the others and forming the gang). Maybe Daphne or Fred’s parents were Reagan types, causing them to rebel against them. Perhaps Velma’s parent(s) were the conspiracy theorist types, thus her desire to prove that it’s only humans committing crimes (though eventually realizing that monsters are real).

Obviously, the other option would be setting this in modern times. Shaggy would be considered more of a hipster in this than an outright hippie. We could still keep aspects of what I said above, but with more modern equivalents, you know? While I’d personally lean more towards the first one, this does allow some fun things. Example: Potential crossover or reference to ghost hunting shows like Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures, and/or Ghost Files/Buzzfeed Supernatural. The mental image of the gang coming across Shane and Ryan does make me snort (Shane saying he doesn’t believe in demons or monsters, and Scoob in the background is just staring at him suspiciously lol).

Though of course, if we go with the first option, there’s no reason they couldn’t make reference to the Warrens.

Either way, the backstory for them all would be that they met and formed the gang in middle/high school and started solving mysteries. Then they just continued as they got older and turned it into a proper job, with the government allowing it due to how many cases they solves and how well they did. We'd explore this through flashbacks and such.

Kind of going back a bit, I would love to see the return of several characters/plot lines: The Hex Girls, Ravencroft, Scrappy and other Scooby relatives, the whole Zombie Island thing (I think more could be done with it, or referenced in some way), something to do with the 2000s live action movies, the girls from the Ghoul School, maybe have Shaggy get turned into a werewolf (in a darker way than done in the cartoon).

This sort of show would have the Monster Of The Week, but still have over-arching plot lines each season (assuming this would go on for multiple seasons). I’d imagine some of it would deal with the government corruption, and whether they should keep covering up the supernatural or if it would be better for people to know the truth. Other plot lines could deal with Scooby’s powers and family. We could also have plot lines that deal with how doing this sort of work puts not only the gang in danger, but their family and loved ones. I'd like to see it tackle how doing all this since being teens has affected the gang, too.

I don’t know whether this would be better to go live action, or keep it a cartoon, but I think it could be done well either way. Matthew Lillard is playing Shaggy regardless, lol. I do think there'd be more freedom in a cartoon, but only if the art style was good.

Anyway, that’s all my brain came up with last night.

Feel free to share your two-cents on this! I’d love to know what people think about this, if it makes sense with the Scooby Doo universe or whatever, or if it seems like a bit much for them, or if this gave any of you ideas of how this could be done. Just keep it kind, regardless of if you agree or disagree, this is all just for fun.

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 8: Purgatory

Alien Son - Chapter 8: Purgatory

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unbeknownst to him, Cade was a product of an experiment with the goal of raising a super solider. Saved from that fate by his adoptive parents, he is still hunted. Eventually, as it always does, his past catches up with him, though now there’s another plan for him, one he could’ve never imagined.

With the help of friends, Cade must escape his captors again, resuming his life on the run in hopes of finally ending it once and for all, before another generation of his family line has to suffer the consequences.

Rating: 18+ series (explicit content, sensitive topics)

Chapter Word Count: 1,450(ish)

Series Warnings/General Info: Science fiction, mpreg (due to fictional science), violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, friendship (found family), romance (male x female), eventual love scene, violation of autonomy (by the antagonists), cloning, inter-species relationship (sort of - Cade is part human/more human than not), xenophobia, alien super human abilities

— Don’t like, don’t read or comment! —

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The night Kamilah had said they were breaking out, Cade stayed awake, drawing invisible circles on the wall his cot was pressed up against. The big old clock in the hallway struck midnight. It was muffled by his door, but he could still hear it loud and clear. He carefully stood as it chimed and waited by his way to freedom.

She should’ve been there within the following five minutes, but Cade was sure ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Kamilah. He started pacing back and forth in his room. The time that had passed soon doubled and still there was no sign of her. Cade peered out of his door’s window anxiously only to see Marquis and the Men in White strolling down the hall towards his room. And Marquis looked furious.

Shit. Cade thought. He rushed to his cot and pulled his thickest blanket over most of himself as he closed his eyes, just like a kid hoping to hide the fact they had stayed up past their bedtime from their parents.

It was no use. An instant later Marquis and the Men in White stormed into the room and roughly hauled him out into the hallway.

“Did you know what Miss Amari was up to?” Marquis shouted.

“What happened to handling me gently?” Cade huffed. “And who’s Miss Amari?”

“Your caretaker, Kamilah,” Marquis said, seething. “Don’t play stupid, and don’t pretend you care about that thing growing inside you.”

Called out, Cade swallowed hard in order to compose himself. To figure out a different tactic. To squash an anger that he shouldn’t have felt at the word thing.

“What’s going on?” he inquired a beat later, trying to sound confused. It wasn’t that hard to do since he actually was.

“I just caught Kamilah trying to download files from my office!” Marquis snapped. “That’s what’s going on!”

“Really? What for?”

Marquis scowled at him. “Stop playing innocent! I know you two have been spending a lot of time together as of late. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” Cade told him. “I don’t even like her. She just insists on staying with me to try to convince me that this experiment is for the good of mankind. She’s just as crazy as you.”

“That’s a complete lie,” Marquis sneered. “She was going to bail you out, right? After she got her hooks onto my files so she could use them against me.”

Cade tilted his chin up defiantly, refusing to answer him.

“Your silence is enough to confirm it.” Marquis huffed. “I just wanted you to know Kamilah won’t be around to take care of you anymore.”

Cade’s resolve broke. “Where did you take her?”

Marquis smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He nodded at the Men in White and they shoved Cade back into his room, locking the door behind him.

Cade turned around and immediately started banging on it furiously. “I’m going to get out one way or another Marquis!” he screamed.

After a minute he began pacing the room again, chest heaving.

What am I going to do now? He asked himself silently. He ran his hands over his face as his anxiety continued to build over the situation. He wasn’t getting out. Not tonight. And Kamilah had been caught. Cade didn’t want to think about what Marquis might do to her. She had broken his trust. Like his parents had. There’d be hell to pay.

Cade pressed a hand to his abdomen as a sudden wave of queasiness hit him. He stopped moving around the room and tried to focus on slowing his breathing, but just as he thought he was gaining back some control, bile rose up into his throat.

He rushed over to the toilet in the corner and vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up. He was shaking from his body’s effort to expel his stomach contents by the time he felt he could safely back away from it. When he finally did he leaned against the opposite wall and shut his eyes, forcing himself to focus on catching his breath.

“Damn it.”

X

As Marquis had promised, Cade had a new caregiver the next day. Nurse Lane. Cade had groaned when he saw her walk into his room that morning.

“Where’s Kamilah?” he questioned after she entered.

“She’s not dead,” Nurse Lane answered. “That’s as far as you need to know. Now take your meds and eat these eggs and that toast.”

Weeks passed with her being the only person who ever entered Cade’s room. The days were torturously long, like they had been before Kamilah had revealed her true intentions. Cade wasted the days away curled up in bed, worrying about where she was and if he was missing something. If there was an escape method he hadn’t considered. He also spent a fair bit of time kneeling next to and barfing into the toilet.

He'd tried convincing himself his sickness was just stress induced, but deep down he knew the truth. After over a month of gestation, his clone was making its presence known. Or maybe his body was protesting against its presence, possibly having decided that the rapidly multiplying clump of cells was foreign after all. Cade could only guess. If the latter was the case, he wondered what the odds were that he’d miscarry before he even got the chance to get into a proper doctor’s office.

By the end of the third week after Kamilah’s capture, his thoughts and mood shifted into darker territory. The passage of time was lost to him, but he was self-aware enough to recognize the signs of depression he was exhibiting. He felt utterly hopeless. He no longer wanted to think about escape. He just wanted to do whatever he could to keep some sense of sanity as the time seemed to pass painstakingly slow because all he could do was exist. He took to sleeping most of the day as he became more and more listless. It was the first time his condition actually played to his desires. He wanted to sleep, and he was naturally more tired.

Naturally, Cade thought as he scoffed one afternoon. Like there’s anything natural about this.

More weeks passed. The days blended into each other so much Cade eventually couldn’t figure out how long it had been since he’d last seen Kamilah. He didn’t bother asking Nurse Lane about the date. She always had a snarky comment to throw back at him instead of an answer. Her favorite was “Why would you need to know the day?”

Eventually, Cade came to a what he could only call a breaking point. That point being when he found himself considering hitting his head into the wall repeatedly, either to force Marquis’ staff to take him out of the room for treatment, or just to feel the pain. While a part of him recognized how messed up it was to be thinking like that, there was another part that didn’t care anymore. That’s when he knew he’d truly lost it.

How the hell had Mara lasted as Marquis’ prisoner for her entire pregnancy? He wondered often. Had she ever shared similar thoughts?

Cade was seriously thinking about going through with his extreme plan when the Men in White strolled into his room for the first time in ages. They immediately chained his hands up to each other as usual, but Cade found himself welcoming it. It was a small price to pay to get out of his white-walled purgatory.

He gladly walked in line with the men up until they showed him into an examination room with nothing in it except an examination table, an ultrasound machine, and of course, Marquis and Dr. Harris.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” he snapped sarcastically, his voice gravely from lack of use. The animosity in his voice hid his relief surprisingly well.

“Haven’t lost your sense of humor I see,” Marquis noted. “Based on what Nurse Lane was reporting lately, I thought you were breaking.”

Cade huffed and bared his teeth a bit. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Dr. Harris gestured for him to sit on the table and he did so willingly. “So, what are we doing today?”

 “Today’s your week ten exam,” she told him.

Week ten exam? Has it really only been that long?

“What does that mean?” he questioned aloud.

“It means Dr. Harris is going to check your vitals, you’re going to hop on a scale, and then she’s going to locate the fetus in your abdomen using this ultrasound machine,” Marquis replied. “Should be fun.”

Cade swallowed hard. Oh.

xxx

Series Masterlist

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