#jesus christ that last panel made me drop my phone

[thesmokingguns]

Off To the Races

Pairing: Nikki Sixx!Douglas Booth

Request: Off To The Races by Lana Del Rey

Summary: You are my one true love. She is there for him at all of his worst moments. Coaxing him through his high, making him smile and laugh. She’s at parties dancing with her red smile calling for him. She’s swimming in the pool when he’s drunk and stoned. She’s there through it all. No ones loved Nikki like her. All consuming. His only thought. She is his entire world. And his works is crumbling.

Warning: Heavy themes of drug use, drug induced hallucinations, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts.

Word Count: 2270

Taglist: @littlemisscare-all​​​​​ @ayablackwood​​​​​ @agroupiewhore@thenobodies-inc​​​​​ @dannasixxworld​​​​ @val-sixx​​​​@nikkisqueenofsleaze​​​​ @rocknrollsoul76​ @aggressive-slytherin​

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

My eyes are heavy, fingers twisting the belt around my arm to loosen the pressure. The needle drops to the floor, the carpet holding any sound in. Blinking, looking around the cramped closet I see my journal, my revolver, and more smack for after this dosage.

What a life.

My head rolls back smacking the wood paneling with a dull thud that vibrates through me. My hands shaking, waves of fingers in front of me. There’s a bit of blood coming from the injection pin prick in my arm and I’m find myself stumbling to my feet, sweeping the gun off the floor and tucking it in the waistband of my jeans as I head to the bathroom.

It’s washing over me, the feeling I’m always chasing. The fleeting moment of happiness is like a warm blanket wrapping itself around me.

The giggle stops me in my tracks, eyes searching the hallway searching for her. I thought she had left after our last fight. She called me a quitter and was mad I was giving up my partying ways. She loved to have a good time and she thought I was giving up on her.

Guess she was wrong.

The flash of brown hair catches my attention and I’m stumbling, laughing as I chase her through the house. Her laughter was infectious and made me forget about the blood dripping down my forearm.

In the kitchen she turns, giving me that megawatt smile that felt like my heart was feeling something other than the melancholy that usually filled it. She stops and lets me catch her, letting me wrap my arms around her holding her close to me. Smelling the exotic sweetness of her hair as she engulfs me with her golden skin, bangles tinkling down her arms like a musical number.

Safe and warm, happiness and euphoria of her presence with me here. The place that was my Mecca of solitude. Pulling back, confused for a second I try to think about how she got here.

“How did you get in?” As if she senses the confusion in my voice she kisses me, giving me no doubt she is here with me. Warm and solitude against my skin, fire in my veins.

“You let me in.” She purred, letting her mouth kiss along my jawline. Soft hot breath tickling me as she pressed against me, bumping the gun as she rolled her body against mine. “It looks like you’re locked and loaded, ready to go.” Her hands in my hair as she’s touching parts of me I forgot existed.

God I missed this.

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh yeah

Light of my life, fire of my loins

Be a good baby, do what I want

Light of my life, fire of my loin

I wake up with a gasp.

What time is it? What day is it? Where am I?

Looking around, frantic panic as I realize I’m asleep in the lawn chair by the pool. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels is smashed beside me, glass decorating the concrete in sharp glares of warning.

The sound of a splash throws me off and there she is. Her brown hair wet as she rests her elbows outside the pool, placing her head in her hands with that gleaming smile.

“Well hello sleepyhead. Did you have good dreams?” I don’t know if she’s asking out of kindness or mocking me. I’m drenched in sweat, possibly from falling asleep in the LA afternoon but most likely from the night terrors that always haunt me.

I dreamt I was running. From who or from what was the issue. Everything in my brain was foggy. My eyes snapped up at the setting sun. Has it been a full day already? Was it longer?

The phone rang from inside the house and I knew it must be someone from the band calling or my drug dealer. One of those felt more important than the other and I wasn’t ready to admit which one that was.

I got up, swearing as a piece of glass cut open my door, glaring as she giggle and dipped under the water. A trail of blood followed me into the house as I picked up the phone.

“Hello.” My voice felt gruff and it hurt to talk, like I hadn’t used it in a while. My head was killing me and I felt ready to throw up.

What the fuck had I been doing?

“Jesus Nikki, we’ve been trying to reach you for a week.” A week? I had lost hours, maybe a day here and there but a whole week. Jesus Christ. “Are you okay man? Why don’t you come out tonight with us?” Tommy was begging me and I sighed.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t want everyone to see me when I had been on a bender. I hadn’t seen what I looked like yet but I was sure that it was like hell.

“I don’t know, T-Bone. I think I have the flu or something. I just don’t feel great.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Something fluttered beside me and there she was. A white dress on her thin frame. How had she dried off and changed so quickly? Was I loosing more time? Eyes shining as she held out a silver platter of white powder. She loved to party and must have known that my band would want to see me out. At least if I was doing coke with them they didn’t have to worry about finding me dead.

“Where are you going to be?” I relented, watching her twirl. The energy coming off her was exhilarating and I wanted to join her in the ever present state of delight.

My nose was down against the lines, snorting messily, my brain burning, eyes widening as I sniffed a few times to get the whole lot out of my nose. Wiping and then turning to her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go out on the town.” She was leading me to the bathroom. My blood rushing everywhere as I was alive and awake and fucking ready to party.

I need you to come here and save me

I'm your little scarlet, starlet, singin' in the garden

Kiss me on my open mouth

Ready for you

Why had I agreed to go to a club?

In the booth we had a mess of drugs, pills and coke scattered on the table like appetizers. Bottles of booze and half empty beer bottles added to the maze of debauchery.

How long have I been here?

I couldn’t remember driving or even getting to the club. All I could remember was hands all over me in the shower, washing the filth off myself. The gentle voice reminded me to wear long sleeves to hide my track marks.

My eyes searched for her. In the sea of women I was sure she would stand out. But all the flashing lights and the noise was confusing me.

The room was spinning, the conversation around me overwhelming me and I could feel Tommy’s hand on my back. My head rolled back, the club's lightning needed to be updated.

A hand was smacking my face and I saw Tommy, wide eyed, looking at me before I turned to the table, throwing up the only thing I had in my body. Brown liquid shot out, mixed with the acid in the stomach. It didn’t stop for what felt like a full minute.

When I finished, puke leaking down in steady droplets to the floor I grabbed a beer tang I had missed and chugged the foamy substance down. I tried not to make eye contact with the people giving us disgusting sneers.

“Oh baby, why don’t you let me take you home? Let me take care of you.” Her hands wrapped around me and I turned, nodding. Confused looks from everyone as I climbed out, reaching for her to take me back into the safety of her arms.

Light of his life, fire of his loins

Keep me forever, tell me you own me

Light of your life, fire of your loins

Her fingers were in my hair as I laid on her lap. The fire from my lighter hitting my pipe as I inhaled and exhaled the sweet delight.

Freebasing in my closet. But at least I wasn’t alone. I had her with me and that changed my usual mood of wanting to slit my wrists or press the gun against my head and pulling the trigger. Painting the inside of my closet with bits of skull fragments and blood-

“Come back to me.” Her voice was lulling me out of the dark place, pressing against my temples and using the magic of her voice to help me. She was the only one that was always there for me. Always making me feel better and dragging me from the pain of my life. Holding me in her arms, compassion and understanding.

She never judged me.

“Have we been here long?” She knew I liked to keep my responsibilities. I wanted to keep my appearance as the rockstar. I couldn’t let anyone know how bad that it had gotten. How I couldn’t stop. How doing drugs was the best part of my life. My one true love.

Except her. She was the one thing I loved more than drugs.

“You have band practice in a few hours.” She reminded me. Her voice was steady and calm, fingers running through my hair and keeping me calm as I took another hit.

I just needed a little more time before I could see anyone. Just a little more time in the closet with her holding me before going out into the world.

“Nikki, don’t let them tell you to give me up. I love you Nikki. Aren’t I the only one who has always been there for you? No one else cares for you like I do. They see you as a rockstar or as a junkie. But I see you. I see you.” Her words promised and I nodded my head, agreeing with her words. She was still so calm, even with the edge to her voice. The words stuck with me.

She saw me and I saw her too.

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

I didn’t want to go to band practice. I didn’t want them to see my shaking hands or ask my stupid fucking questions that didn’t matter.

At least she had agreed to go with me. Her brown hair wrapped in one of those silky driving scarfs like the 1960s, big sunglasses to hide the hangover in her eyes that she was surely feeling after we had partied. Her hand was on his lap, keeping him steady as he drove to the practice space.

Walking inside, I hide my eyes behind big sunglasses, I could feel the sweat glistening like a second skin on my body. Anxiety crippling me as I licked my lips wanting to get back to my house.

My eyes followed her, watching her move around the instruments shooting me a smile as she ran her hands down my bass. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Yo, Nikki, are you okay?” Tommy’s voice made me turn away from her nodding as I sat down hard on the couch. I had never brought a girl to practice before so I was sure they were surprised to see her. To see me so happy with someone.

“Come here.” I held my arms open, watching her smile as she bounced towards me twisting around the guys as they watched me. The brunette plopped down on my lap and I held her close looking out at them.

“What are you playing at?” Vince asked, the confusion was written across his face and I felt angry. Vince had been parading chicks through band practice for years. And now he was acting like this? Fucking asshole.

“Cmon, show her some respect, dicks.” She was shifting in my arms holding onto me and purring sweet words in my ears, my eyes closing and only coming awake when Vince kicked my shin.

“Show who respect?” My eyes went up to look at her but she was glaring at them. Her eyes were on fire as if she was protecting me from the band.

“Nikki, we should go. Let’s go home and I’ll take care of you. You don’t need this. I don’t need this. This was a bad idea, Nikki. A very bad idea.” She was getting up tugging at me to leave.

“My girl.” I was standing gesturing at her beside me, watching the way her dark eyes were slits now. Anger so clear as she tried to wrap herself around me and get me away from them.

They sat there, no one saying a word as they looked at each other and than a me. I turned to look at her, panic was there as she stepped forward touching my face, my eyes closing at the sweet caresses from her fingers. My skin feeling alive like bristling fire under her touch

“It’s me and you Nikki. Don’t forget how I love you. I love you always. No judgement. No-“

“Nikki, no ones there.” Tommy’s voice came out soft and I turned to look from her to him, feeling the slender hand slip out of mine. I went to tell her to wait but she was gone.

Whirling around I saw it was just the band in the space, no mystery brunette anywhere in sight. I collapsed on the couch gripping my hair as my teeth gnashed together.

This was the furthest it had come. The lowest point of my drug addiction. In my loneliness I had created a woman out of heroin. Someone to make me feel less alone when I shot up.

I created love through a needle and that was when I knew I needed to stop if I ever wanted to love anything again.

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #80 Review

woot woot i’ve kept it up for three issues lets gooo. i liked this issue more than the last one. there’s a lot of fanon dick characterization peppered in, but not so much that it puts me off entirely. also, i’m getting increasingly concerned about bitewing. but i did like tim in this one, very nice

look at all the blue and purple and pink. honestly at this point, i’m a broken record but come on come on come onnnnnnn. the blue and pink is very pretty though. this cover’s a bit offputting at first, and a bit spiraly, which i’m sure was the intended effect.

this is a genuine concern of mine. dick’s a vigilante, and he doesn’t have the same sprawling network and resources that bruce does. (even if he is a billionaire now, he hasn’t amassed the same collection of crime-fighting equipment that bruce has.) 

i’m not sure if he’ll be able to take care of bitewing. damian’s got plenty of pets, but alfred used to take care of them, and now bruce plus the rest of the batfam is taking care of them. as far as we know, babs only drops by occasionally, and the same goes for dick’s family and friends. will dick be able to give bitewing the love and time and affection that a traumatized puppy like her needs? i really hope so.

she does look adorable in this panel tho.

dick. richard. richie. baby. why are you shirtless.

you have scars upon scars. probably chemical burns. bullet wounds. weird fucking squiggly lines from knives that only psychos with blade fetishes use. no normal person has the body that you do. and you don’t think that showing up shirtless in front of the police is going to raise suspicion? you don’t think that the people accusing you of murder are going to look at someone who looks like they’re a fucking mob enforcer and go hmm that’s a bit suspicious?

put on a SHIRT jesus CHRIST it’s like you’re not even trying to hide your identity.

look at this pompous little princess demanding only the highest quality head pets i’d burn down latvia for her. (no offense latvians it was the first country that popped into my head.)

pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy-

no seriously kudos to the artist here. his expression is so human i wanna cry. dick, right now, is sheepishly asking a question. he knows he’s not going to get into any real trouble, he knows that he’ll be able to talk his way out of or somehow maneuver his way off this mess. but he’ll play nice for the police, so he’s asking a friend for a favour, part self-condescendingly and part oh-well-what-can-you-do.

and his expression reflects that. rather than a stoic expressionless face most male comic characters have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), rather than the weird desperate supposedly “seductive” face that most female comic characters plus dick grayson have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), he’s making a face that i pulled like yesterday. or the day before that. it’s kind of silly, kind of casual, very much human. i like it.

thank god. proper (in character) acknowledgement for officer grayson. yea, fuck cops in general, but i like that they included this line.

obviously, he’s not talking about the actual criminals, he’s talking about the police force itself. the bpd was too corrupt, and dick realized that he wasn’t helping. not only does one clean cop not make a dent in an overall dirty force, but dick was putting his allies in danger too. not only that, but it wasn’t good for dick’s mental health either. he was spreading himself too thin, and surrounding himself with some of the worst of crime 24/7 did a number on him. dick’s got a history of self-sacrificing tendencies, and i’m just glad he’s not a cop anymore.

dick has a gotham rogues mug. they make gotham rogue mugs, and dick has one.

what kinda city looks at it’s frankly horrible crime history and long list of certifiably insane serial killers who are all still alive and actively committing war crimes and goes “oooooh yea imma put that on a coffee mug!” gotham, that’s who.

this isn’t important i just like how all of bitewing’s barks are blue

back straight, hand on his hip, cheerful smile on his face as he says he’s being accused for murder. love that for him.

they couldn’t have said “yea it’s complicated” in a better way even if they put the words “yea it’s complicated” right there on the page in bold red letters. literally all the love to the artists.

dick please. you’re KILLING ME what the actual fuck IS THAT???? WHY DO YOU HAVE A MUG OF THAT???

anyway nightwing collects novelty mugs confirmed.

this paneling is so beautiful. 

tim’s the focus, but he’s not the first thing you see. he’s placed in a way that forces the reader to drag their eyes all the way up the page in order to reach him. it us know just how high up tim is carelessly crouching, especially close to the ledge of the building too. i cannot think of a single better way to introduce a character, and this character in particular: you instantly know this is a version of tim with plenty of experience and training, is comfortable in his body and knows his limits, but still hangs onto that civilian awe of being in a high place and overlooking a brightly lit city.

absolute classic robin. i love it. 

this isn’t even that important but it made me happy. this is how you train surf.

you don’t crouch or bend over when you get to a tunnel, which is oddly enough what most people think (at least from my experience). you bend backward. that not only 100% ensures that you’ll make sure you’re low enough to make it through the tunnel (because you can see the top of the tunnel, unlike when you crouch or bend), but it also makes it easier to get up: all you have to do is push up with your arms into a bent stance, and you’ll be in a ready, moving position. from a bend or a crouch, getting up is more awkward and more slow.

on a meta level, i like that this creative team knows what they’re doing when it comes to the small, almost unimportant stuff like that, because it makes the action more real. (as real as you can get with a guy running around stealing hearts.)

on a in-universe level, it once again drives home both dick and tim’s experience and professional level skill.

regardless of who you side with in the “should tim drake be robin again?” debate, you gotta admit that tim’s rebirth robin suit is r a d as fuck. if i’m not mistaken, this is the same one he was wearing in 2019 young justice for a little bit? it’s cute and hella cool i like it.

remember what i said about human expressions? doesn’t happen as often to tim bc he’s a Child, but it’s still nice to note when someone humanizes him, too. (that’s why i love the duckboy panel so much lol.)

me, at first: that’s not a “good call” dick that’s just common sense

me, now: sprinkled throughout the entire comic we can see dick bending to tim’s instructions if only briefly, joking with him to keep the mood light while still maintaining a serious mood and retaining control over this particular outing. this implies that dick’s doing it intentionally, purposefully leaving places in his sentences blank and offering affirmations, in order to encourage tim and train him in things bruce might not necessarily touch on, such as social chameleoning and misdirection techniques and love/affirmation from a family member. dick is not only a loving and supportive big brother, but he never stops training his younger brother in better vigilante tecnhiques because he wants tim to be better than him. in this essay i will-

d o g g o

also bitewing is getting so many head pats today i’m living for it

look at him, standing on a telephone wire with ease. nice flex, dick.

also look at how he’s silhouetted. the moon’s full bright, bright enough that the sky around dick is light, too. (at least. i’m like 99% sure that’s the moon.) not like most batman comics, where it’s sometimes hard to distinguish bruce from the background, which is entirely on purpose.

gotham is a dark gritty city, and so is bruce. the two of them are one. bludhaven may be a bit of a mess, but it’s being portrayed in all these different shades of blue and purple and pink, that are all light enough that dick stands out from the background. he hasn’t been swallowed up by the city, and chances are that he won’t ever be. also, the colouring helps establish bludhaven as a city too. there’s still hope for it. the light colouring means that it’s not going to sink into a pit as deep as the one bruce wove gotham into. the whole point of this nightwing arc in particular is to turn bludhaven into a better place, and it’s (most likely) letting us know early on that dick is going to accomplish that. he’ll struggle, but he’ll do it.

so dick??? dick designed his escrima sticks with a situation like this in mind? he created his signature and most iconic weapon (other than his chatty mouth), with a built in feature that turns his escrima sticks into tim’s signature and most iconic weapon???? just so that if he and tim ever got into a situation where tim didn’t have his staff, dick could make sure tim had the thing that would give him an edge over anyone he was fighting??? he’s such a big brother oh my goddd.

also tim’s smirk in this is just *chef kiss.* a staff is something he can work with, a staff is something he wields like an extension of his arm, a staff is means that someone’s about to get their ass kicked because tim’s about to beat the shit outta them.

this is my new phone background.

they really made sure we remembered that hey, those first few months when bruce was grieving too much to be any sort of a mentor to tim and was still unwilling to properly train him to be robin out of fear that he would end up like jason, dick was the one who stepped up (once he got over himself and his own fears and hangups with bruce) and trained tim to be robin, trained him how to fight and flip and fuckin fly out there, all while changing his own style a bit to be the more experienced one in the partnership while still trusting said partner to hold their own, so dick and tim have a very unique and cohesive fighting style that makes it hell for anyone who fights them together, didn’t they?

[chasing-classics]

Our Little Secret Sessions- Nate Jacobs x Reader

Pairing(s): Nate Jacobs x Reader

Warning(s): SMUT, language, toxic relationships, older reader, dubious consent

Requested: Yes, by @bokillylovesloki​

Summary: After landing a job as the high school’s new counselor you settle into your new home, unaware of what danger lurks just outside your front door.

 Part 2

 You blew the hair out of your face, managing to load the last box full of kitchen appliances onto the hardwood floor. You smiled, looking around triumphantly at your new home. It was spacious, far too big for just you, but it had been an absolute steel on the market. Once you had gotten the call from your new boss, Principal Hayes, that you had landed the job at East Highland High School as the new counselor you quickly packed your bags and jumped at the opportunity. You were fresh out of college, bright and intelligent, but still young for the job. You were saddened to leave your friends and family up North, but this job had been far too good to pass up. Now all you had from your hometown were two dozen boxes of mementos and furniture, your old yet faithful car, and a handful of missed calls from your friends/parents asking if you made it safely. You were so busy scrolling through the various texts and voicemails that you didn’t notice a lanky figure enter the doorway of your humble abode.

  ‘’Hey,’’ a deep voice caused you to gasp and nearly drop your phone onto the floor.

 You spun around to find a guy standing at the entrance of your new home, where you had stupidly left the front door wide open. Your eyes quickly analyzed him. Dark hair, brown eyes, pouty lips that were set in a cocky smirk, and a jawline that you were convinced could cut through glass. He leaned lazily against the door, his hand still held up from when he had casually been knocking against the wooden surface. He was tall, incredibly tall. He looked slightly younger than you, maybe twenty-one or even twenty-three.

 ‘’Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I live next door and noticed you were moving in, I wanted to know if you needed any help,’’ the guy chuckled a bit, eyeing your tense form. You laughed in relief, hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

 ‘’I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Thank you for the kind offer, I’m Y/n, Y/n y/l/n,’’ you offered a welcoming smile, stretching out your hand to properly shake his hand. He returned the favor and the moment his massive hand took hold of yours’ it felt like icicles had been thrusted into your back.

 ‘’I’m Nate Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you y/n,’’ he smiled back. What you assumed he meant to be a reassuring smile instead filled your insides with butterflies and sent your nerves into a frenzy. He was attractive, but you could vaguely hear the alarm bells going off inside your head.

 ‘’Well thank you very much Nate, but I think I brought everything inside already,’’ you referred to the numerous boxes and wrapped up furniture that was currently littering your new living room, spilling into the kitchen.

 ‘’No problem, just let me know if you need help with anything,’’ that crooked smile was a permanent feature on his face, you quickly discovered. You nodded your thanks, moving to close the door when the power suddenly went out.

 ‘’Great, just my luck,’’ you groaned, moving to find a flashlight somewhere.

 ‘’If you want I can check your electric panel?’’ Nate’s deep voice sent shivers up your spine.

 ‘’Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble? I can call an electrician in the morning,’’ you offered, finding out that said flashlight that to your frustration was full of dead batteries. Candles it was.

 ‘’It’s no problem at all,’’ you could hear the amusement in his voice as he brushed past you to check the panel. The heat from his body filled you with a sense of longing, something primal. For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to moan out his name.

 ‘’It should be in the backyard, by the picnic table,’’ you called out, shrugging off the less-than-appropriate thoughts running wild in your imagination.

 You had successfully located a handful of candles along with a lighter. The cozy glow of the flames illuminated your house to the point you could now see where you were going without bumping into anything. Noticing that your phone battery was running low, you set it down on the counter and prayed nothing more would happen tonight. You had to be up early for the first day of school tomorrow and you didn’t aspire to look like an extra from the Walking Dead due to dark circles and lack of sleep. As you nervously tapped your foot while awaiting Nate’s return, you squealed in delight as the lights came back on. You turned your attention the French doors that led to the backyard, the smile quickly fading from your face when you saw Nate’s drenched form. You bit your lip when his blue hoodie clung to his toned form, the bulges that were his abs teasing you.

 ‘’Got a towel I can borrow?’’ Nate smirked, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook himself off.

 Your mouth still hung open as you quickly dug through a random box, successfully finding a fluffy cotton towel.

 ‘’What happened?’’ you wondered, eyes straining to remain on his face and not his muscular body.

 ‘’I turned the power back on, I must’ve accidentally reset your sprinkler system too and, well you can figure out the rest,’’ he scoffed, removing his drenched hoodie.

  Jesus Christ.

  ‘’See something you like?’’ Nate’s voice was low as he leaned down closer to you. You could feel his breath hitting the side of your face and shoulder. Your eyes instantly fell to the floor, your cheeks set aflame with embarrassment.

 ‘’Don’t look away, doll,’’ he whispered, hand gently cupping your neck to get you to meet his gaze.

 ‘’I don’t think I’m your type,’’ your voice was soft. Low, but vulnerable,  and Nate took notice.

 ‘’Because you’re a few years older? Come on y/n, we’re both more mature than that,’’ he groaned, taking one step closer to you, than another and another. Your back quickly met the wall, gasping at the rough contact.

 ‘’This isn’t right,’’ you whispered, trembling as Nate’s thumb stroked your bottom lip.

 ‘’What are you? Twenty-four?’’ Nate drew back, his thumb still pressed against your bottom lip as you nodded your head.

 ‘’So what’s a couple of years?’’ his husky voice groaned into your ear as he bent down, pressing open mouth kisses on your exposed shoulder, up the base of your neck.

 ‘’N-Nate,’’ you whimpered, clenching your fists until your knuckles turned white.

 ‘’Just give me tonight, you’re a beautiful young woman, let me show you what you do to me,’’ he grunted, rolling his hips against your clothed center. You could feel the bulge straining against his still wet jeans. He was big, you could feel it. And you were desperate for his touch.

 You craned your neck up to kiss his lips, throwing caution to the wind. It was just a few years, so what if he was just a couple of years younger? He clearly wanted you as badly as you craved him. His height, his arrogance, everything about him screamed that the age difference between the two of you wasn’t much, that you had nothing to worry about. He looked no younger than maybe twenty-one. The way he carried himself put your mind at ease. You allowed yourself to enjoy just one night with a handsome stranger.

 His kisses became rougher with each passing second, his hands running up and down your body in a frenzy. You moaned and mewled as his teeth nipped at your collarbone, your neck, and then your lip. His rough hands easily covered your breasts through your thin shirt. Your own hands stroked his bare chest and alternated from tugging his hair to clawing at his back in a teasing manner.

 ‘’I’m going to make sure you remember this,’’ he grunted, pressing his clothed erecting to your legging-cladded center, pushing it into you and further into the wall. You whimpered, kissing the column of his neck, tracing a vein that ran along the side of it with your tongue.

 You yelped when he moved away from you, dragging you toward the surface of your kitchen island. Your cheek collided with the smooth surface, hands sprayed out on either side of your head to cushion the impact. You shivered as he easily tore through the material of your shirt as if he had claws. Your skin broke out into goosebumps despite the hot later summer air.

 ‘’Look at you, all excited and needy for me and I haven’t even gotten started,’’ Nate groaned, hand pressed against the exposed small of your back, running upwards to the lacey material of your bra.

 ‘’Nate,’’ you moaned out as he began grinding himself into your backside. You could feel the heat emitting from his pants and felt the angry throbbing of his cock even through his jeans. His left hand cupped your breast underneath your bra while the right easily managed to unclasp it. You fidgeted as his fingers tweaked and rolled your sensitive bud, the other hand doing the same to the other breast. You whined as he gripped your tits, forcing you backwards to meet his thrusts as he grinded into you harder.

 ‘’Can’t wait to stretch that pretty pussy, make you ride this fat dick,’’ he grunted, tangling a hand into your hair and forcing your face upwards as he roughly kissed you. The kiss had you whining, panting for more. Your cheeks flushed as you felt the familiar sensation of your slickness coating your womanhood. You were quickly flipped around so that you were now able to look up and face Nate. His lips were red from the rough kisses, yours felt bruised and plump. He eyed your exposed tits as you slowly took off the lace bra. He easily leaned over, taking one bud into his hungry mouth as he began biting and sucking. You threw your head back, using your elbows to support your weight on top of the island, your legs trapping Nate between them.

 You stroked his hair as he fervently sucked on your sensitive nipple. You cried out each time his teeth yanked and tugged on the delicate flesh. Once he had his fill, he switched to the other and began the process all over again. You were so lost in the erotic moment that you didn’t even notice his hand make its’ way into your leggings until you felt him roughly pull your lace underwear to the side and forcefully plunged two digits into your tight canal.

 ‘’Ah! Nate, it’s too much!’’ you cried out, burying your face into his neck as he lapped at your hardened nipple.

 ‘’I’ll tell you when you’ve had too much,’’ he growled, resuming to thrust his fingers into your pussy as you whined and whimpered below him. All you could do was grasp his biceps and whine as he stretched you out to his liking. There was something completely carnal in the way he took control and used your body like an instrument. His breathing became more labored and intense as his hand sped up, the obscene squelches causing you to hide your face further every time he entered you. You both knew your release was quickly approaching from the way your pussy clenched around his index and middle finger. The way your nails dug into the skin of his arms as you moaned and squirmed under him.

 ‘’W-what?’’ you cried as he retracted his hand, Nate quickly shutting you up as he forced his fingers into your mouth. You gagged, taken back at his rough actions, moving to pull back your head in protest. Nate would have none of that.

 ‘’No, no. Be a good slut and suck on them for me,’’ he commanded, a heavy hand forcing you further onto his hand as he yanked your hair.

 You breathed through your nose, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you tried not to choke on his slender digits. The sweet, tangy taste of your juices danced along your tongue.

 ‘’Good girl, now spit,’’ he growled, forcing his fingers deeper to the back of your throat. You coughed as saliva coated his hand, desperately trying to catch your breath the second he released you.

 You had no time to prepare yourself as he roughly picked you up, managing to shove your leggings and underwear down in one pull. He sat you on the counter as he hurriedly forced down his jeans. The hand that as coated in your saliva angrily jerked at his impressive girth. You began having second thoughts on sleeping with Nate at that point, his thickness and length alone were something to be afraid of. He was going to destroy you. You opened your mouth to protest when he forcibly grabbed your thighs, dragging them apart and pushing you down so that your bak met the cold surface of your counter.

 ‘’Scream for me, fight if you want,’’ Nate whispered before jerking your body forward, thrusting his entire cock into your cunt.

 ‘’Nate!’’ you screamed, body lurching back from the force of his thrust. You pulled and slapped at his chest as he began bucking into you, a firm hand pressed between your bouncing breasts to hold you down into place.

 ‘’Fuck, it’s so much better than I expected,’’ he moaned, jaw going slack as the sound of his balls slapping against the soft flesh of your ass echoed throughout the room. You continued to scream and claw at the counter, nails digging into the palms of your hands as your body bounced from his pounding. You had never taken a man as thick as Nate, and it hurt in the best way. You struggled against him, torn between giving into the pleasure and desperate for some space to relieve the burning feeling of your insides being stretched to accommodate him. The hand that was pressed on your chest slid down to firmly rest against your stomach.

 ‘’I can feel myself moving inside you,’’ he grunted, his cock throbbing inside your greedy cunt. You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in complete pleasure and need.

 ‘’Harder, Nate,’’ you begged, legs now wrapped around him as your hands gripped his forearms to have something to hold onto.

 You regretted your words as his thrusts angrily sped up to the point you worried your island would collapse from under you. A hand gripped your throat as he dragged your body back and forth to meet his brutal thrusts. You were a symphony of moans, cries, and nearly animalistic noises as he fucked into you. It felt like he was splitting you open with his cock, but it was one of the most divine feelings you had ever experienced in your lifetime. Lips crashed against yours as he forced one of your legs higher around him, the new position allowing him to his that sweet, sensitive spot inside the depths of your core.

 ‘’I’m going to cum,’’ you moaned out clawing at his shoulders as you gripped him in every sense of the word.

 ‘’Cum on my cock, baby. Milk me,’’ he snarled, hips snapping and bucking wildly.

 One particularly sharp thrust triggered your release as you moaned Nate’s name, quivering under him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your entire being. Nate’s thrusts slowed down only slightly to admire the view of your juices coating his member, the tightness in his balls alerting him of his own release. He gripped your jaw in his hand, forcing you to keep your eyes solely on him as his thick release painted the walls of your cunt. His breathing was hot, fanning your face as a thin sheet of sweet coated both of your bodies. For a moment, you just laid there as his dick continue to shoot cum deep inside of you.

 ‘’That was amazing,’’ your voice was hoarse, lips trailing along his jaw as he smirked above you.

 ‘’I’m not done yet,’’ he replied, taking you into his arms and leading you to your couch in the living room. He dropped your sore body onto the cushiony surface, towering over you as his dick stood proudly once more, your combined juices still coating it. His eyes fell onto your exposed pussy, where his cum began seeping out your abused hole.

 ‘’Get on your knees, turn around, and hold onto the back of the couch,’’ he growled, his cock bobbing.

 You hesitated, resulting in Nate forcefully turning you over himself, as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. Your hands gripped the back of the couch as he kneed your legs apart. The air left your lungs as he buried himself to the hilt once more before he began rutting into you.

  By the time you awoke you hardly had anytime to get ready. You searched your memory for a moment before you realized you had passed out after Nate took you from behind for the third time last night. You hardly had anytime to shower and look presentable before dashing out the door lest you be late for your new job. You winced with every step you took, although you tried to pass it off as a smile to your new colleagues. You wondered if after work you should stop by Nate’s house, or if it had been a one-night stand. Either way, he was probably at his own job by now. If he wanted to see you again, he knew where to find you.

 You sighed in content as you sat down at your desk in your very own office. You smiled at your golden name plate and a welcoming plate of cookies left by the ladies who worked at the front office. A knocking interrupted your thoughts.

 ‘’Ah, Principal Hayes, good morning,’’ you beamed, pushing yourself to stand up and shake your employers hand.

 ‘’Ms. y/l/n I hope the office is to your liking?’’ Hayes grinned, shaking your hands in a firm but welcoming grip.

 ‘’It’s more than enough, truly, thank you,’’ you smiled.

 ‘’Terrific, I hope you don’t mind but one of our students wanted to welcome you to the campus.’’

 ‘’How sweet! Of course,’’ you smiled warmly.

 Your warm smile was shattered and the air was knocked out of you the minute the figure walked through your office door. Nate Jacobs.

 ‘’Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Nate Jacobs, welcome toe East High,’’ he smirked, reaching out his hand to shake. The same hand that a few hours ago had been finger banging you on your kitchen counter. The same hand that had wrapped around your neck as he came inside you. Nate fucking Jacobs.

 ‘’H-hi. I’m Ms. y/l/n,’’ you stuttered out, a cold sweat falling over you.

 ‘’Well I’ll let you do your thing, don’t be late for class, Nathan,’’ Hayes bid his farewells and before you could protest, was out the door. You turned your attention to Nate, eyes narrowed and lips in a firm line.

 ‘’What the fuc-‘’

 ‘’I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Ms. y/l/n. Wouldn’t want a pretty face like yours to end up behind bars. Dirty sluts like you don’t do well in jail. Especially if you’re locked up for sex with a minor. Pretty sure that’s statutory rape,’’ he grinned that evil Cheshire cat grin.

 You suddenly felt extremely nauseous.

‘’Y-y-you said you were just a few years younger,’’ you whispered, taking a step back as he stalked towards you. Out of instinct you closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your neck, hands sliding to rest on your hips.

 ‘’I didn’t lie. I am younger. You should’ve asked for specifics,’’ he whispered, one hand cupping your ass through your skirt. You pushed him off of you, devastated and terrified and disgusted all at once.

 ‘’What kind of game are you playing?’’ you snarled. The same grin was stuck on his devilish face.

 ‘’No games. Those are for children. I’m going to tell it to you straight; anytime I say so, you get on your knees for me. Whether I want you to blow me after a football game in the locker room, or bend your legs over my shoulders as I rail you in the backseat of my truck, no matter where or when. If I want you, I get you.’’

 You felt the tears begin to build up in your eyes as a shaky hand pressed against your mouth to muffle any cries that dare trickle out.

 ‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you sniffled, shaking as his hands roamed your body.

 ‘’I wanted you, so I did what I had to, to get you. And now-,’’ he bent forward to kiss the corner of your mouth.

 ‘’I own you.’’

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Four of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: THANK YOU FOR WAITING!!! I reaaallly hope you enjoy this chapter ;) This one is a little longer, to make up for the shortness of the last chapter. Let me know what you think!!!

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It’s late, your phone tells you that much.

Blinking quickly awake, you catch your breath and reach immediately for the device, checking the time with a deep frown. You feel as though you’d only just managed to fall asleep, which makes the loud knocking on your door even more annoying.

For several seconds you just sit on your bed and listen. Perhaps it was one of your neighbours, coming home drunk and not realising this wasn’t their place, but then the sound comes again and you have to cross that option off.

The banging was too precise, too sharp to be someone inebriated.

You’re pulling a thick sweater over your head as you make your way through your living room, cautiously. The knocking hadn’t come again, and you wonder if your visitor had left.

You pull open the door quickly, frowning deeper still at why on earth Bucky was on your doorstep at three in the morning. You don’t even manage to take him in properly before he’s stepping forward, his wide, wild eyes sweeping over you, searching.

“I came as soon as we landed, what happened?!” He asks, deep worry filling his voice, his features pinched in panic. You blink in confusion, taking a slight step away from him, but only so that you can properly take in his completely overwhelming appearance.

You’d seen him return from missions with minor scrapes and bruises before, but nothing about his current look was ‘minor’.

A large cut on his forehead that reaches up into his hairline is caked with both drying and still wet blood, the rest of his face filthy with the clear remnants of a brutal fight. You can’t tell if the blood on his lips was from his nose, or if he’d cut there too. Even his uniform is all but ruined, ripped and torn in various places, blood splattered all over his jacket, and even worse, a large gash along his thigh, deep and still weeping.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” You exclaim, unable to stop yourself. Bucky’s brows only knit further together and he steps closer.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t call, my phone got– it doesn’t matter, are you okay?” He looks you over again, as if you were the one currently bleeding, but you realise rather suddenly why he had come and why he was so worried.

Your face heats up approximately a million times hotter than the sun.

“I’m– I’m fine, I… That wasn’t– I didn’t mean for you to–!” Your voice cuts out as mortification fills you and you drop your face into your hands. Bucky’s face floods with relief, and then a small amount of displeasure as he seems to fully relax, shoulders sagging a bit under what you can only assume is a very sore body.

“You said to call you ASAP.” He mutters, and you wince.

“I know, I know… But I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even think about how it might sound…” You scold yourself, finally lifting your head from your hands to look at him apologetically. Bucky sighs, and you can see him forcefully reigning back his ire.

“As long as you're okay…” He sighs again. You want to apologise again, but a drop of blood seeps out from his hairline and you straighten.

“What the hell happened to you!?” You ask, stepping aside and allowing him to amble into your home.

“Got blown up.” He states shortly. He doesn’t make to elaborate, but you don’t think you need him to.

“It’ll mostly be healed by morning.” He informs you, turning his head to look back at you as he peels off his blue leather jacket. With his back to you now, you can see even more large gashes in his back, having torn right through his clothes and left his back looking as though he’d been lashed.

You can remember the Winter Soldier returning from missions looking just as terrible, the gore was sometimes too much for you to handle.

As if realising for the first time that he’d entered your home, Bucky looks around with a frown and then quickly grabs his ruined jacket back from the countertop he’d just placed it on.

“I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” He tells you, already moving for your door again. You don’t exactly know why, but panic lances through you, making you hurriedly step in his path, blocking him off.

“What? No, no, no, you need to clean up!” You blurt, swallowing thickly when his expression shifts slightly, into something unreadable.

“It’s late… and I’ll be fine.” It sounds less like he’s making his excuse to leave and more like he’s trying to reassure you, his voice softer and more soothing than you’d expected.

You blink at him, and try to figure out why exactly you didn’t want him to go.

Granted in the past few weeks you’d become increasingly close, it was actually something you’d started worrying about. It was as if time ceased to exist when he wasn’t around, only starting up again when you saw each other. More and more you’d started to feel lonely, had started to look at the little scar on the back of your hand and yearn.

And that was scary.

Scarier was the way that any and all reservations you’d had about Bucky had completely dissolved, replaced instead by a sense of warmth, and comfort and safety.

You swallow again, and shake your head.

“I’m not letting you go home like this.” You tell him.

“Seriously, you need to sit down and clean up as soon as possible. You look bad.” You gesture at his head and thigh.

“I’m fine, really–” Bucky begins, but his voice hitches when his knee seems to momentarily give. He catches himself quickly, one hand steadying himself on the wall, and you know he’s lying to you through his teeth because he doesn’t even try biting back the curse he lets out.

“Bucky…” You scold warningly, crossing your arms over your chest, even as he relents. You don’t think about the fact that he’d barely put up a fight, or that when he carefully begins moving again, that he knows his way through your home, even in the dim light.

He groans as he sits down on the toilet seat, looking even worse under the harsh lights of your bathroom.

“Dislocated my knee.” He grunts, eyes keenly trained on you as you move around him, procuring a clean towel and a couple of washcloths from the cupboard, and getting the water in the shower running for him.

“Do you… are you okay to get in yourself, or…?”A sudden sheepishness fills you, having not considered the realities of making him stay, but he shakes his head, and reaches to pull his black shirt off.

Dumbly, you stare for several seconds too long as the fabric is peeled from his body and tossed into your tiny bin, your eyes glued to the broad expanse of his chest and abs, a body you’d seen a hundred times before, but somehow, feels brand new now. Bucky notices, of course he does, but thankfully doesn’t say anything as you hurry to avert your gaze, jumping around to face the mirror, which doesn’t really help.

“I– I have some mens clothing. Some sweatpants and a jumper. I bought them for me, but they’re big enough… they should fit you okay…” You ramble, pretending to tidy up the multitude of things you have on and around your sink.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, grunting softly as he works on his boots.

You pause again, stuck staring, as for the first time since you’d met him two months ago, you were able to see his metal arm completely uncovered.

You’d picked up that it was new, the black and gold colouring of his hand a give away, but he hadn’t said much on the subject. You knew it was a gift from Wakanda, and had theorised from that information that it was made of vibranium.

Your eyes travel over the sleek, geometrically interlocking panels, of how it moved and folded almost organically. You turn back to face him to get a better look, your curiosity too much as you take it in. The fingers were deft and far more slender than the arm you’d worked on, much more like his flesh hand. The joints and knuckles were traced in gold and you realise that the black vibranium (?) was actually encasing a layer of more delicate golden panelling underneath, allowing for both acute fine-motor skill and reinforcement to lend added strength–

You’re shocked from your thoughts when you realise Bucky stares right at you, his movements frozen in place. When you further realise that you’ve moved away from the sink and now hold his forearm in both your hands, you let out a startled gasp, and jump back, releasing him.

You can’t even think of what to begin saying to him, and for several moments you both just stare at one another.

“I– I, um…” You stutter, face growing warm. Bucky slowly tears his eyes from you to look at his arm, but his gaze quickly returns.

“You can… You can have a look, if you want…” He offers, voice even and unreadable. You blink.

“I know you were working on this kind of stuff before… prosthetic limb enhancem–” He continues, but you’re snapped out of your daze, cutting him off quickly.

“No. No thank you.” You say, a little more harshly than you intend, but a cold prickle has begun creeping it’s way up your spine. Bucky closes his mouth and just watches you. You step even further away from him and shake your head.

“I don’t– I don’t ever want to think about any of that again.” Your voice feels stiff, and both embarrassment and discomfort force your decision to exit out of the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

You feel bad about your behaviour, and as you lay in bed and replay the events again and again, it almost makes you want to step out of your bedroom and apologise. It wasn’t as if you’d have to go anywhere. After he’d finished cleaning up, looking a hell of a lot better already but still walking stiffly due to his knee, you’d quietly insisted he at least stay until his leg healed.

Bucky hadn’t argued, and you try not to linger on his seeming willingness to stay. It makes your blood pump a little faster, and your mouth feel both dried and over-salivating at the same time. You think again about your strange relationship, how things were evolving, and about how you could almost trick yourself into thinking you felt tingling on the back of your hand sometimes.

You’d been trying to ignore the feeling, not only because it was insane for you to feel as such about him of all people, but mostly because Bucky’s soulmark was black. Black, meaning he already had a soulmate.

Somewhere out there, Bucky Barnes’ perfect half was waiting for him to find them. Maybe they were even looking for him. The thought feels like a punch in the gut, but it wasn’t the first time recently that you’d had to remind yourself of the fact.

Whatever weird, strange feelings you’d developed, it was all pointless.

You roll over and brush the thoughts from your mind. You’d never fall asleep that way. Sleep didn’t always come so easy to you, and it had already been late when Bucky had arrived, and so you let the warmth of your blankets and the knowledge that your home was a hundred times safer with him inside it lull you into unconsciousness.

---

The Winter Soldier sits bloodied and battered in the chair before you, his chin turned down toward his chest, but his eyes flickering around the room, looking as dark and as menacing as always. His gaze lands on you for mere moments before it’s moving on, clearly not deeming you as a threat.

Around you, the room bustles with an unusual amount of people, talking rapidly and low in Russian. Your shoulder is jabbed harshly and you quickly continue to move forward, gingerly pulling up a nearby stool and moving to place your small bag of tools on the trolley provided.

A doctor of some kind stands on the Soldier’s other side, his gloved hands covered in bright crimson as he attends to a wound you refuse to look at. He seems distracted however, looking back and over his shoulder at another man every so often, gesturing and pointing at his patient’s body.

Perhaps the fact that the Soldier had been watching the room when you entered should have given it away, should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but you were so often surrounded by danger these days that the change in demeanour hadn’t made a mark.

You move to take your seat, just as the doctor leans back in and that's when the Soldier snaps.

His broken body lunges to his feet, moving faster than you have time to register, and you don’t even get to see what he does next. The air is knocked out of you, a pain pulsing in your abdomen and chest, and then your back as you suddenly hit the bare concrete wall, crumpling like fabric to the floor.

You’re aware the room has erupted into chaos, of shouting and the clicking off of safeties on guns, but for several minutes you’re only able to clutch at your stomach, gasping for breath. You aren’t hurt, not fatally anyway, there had been no knife in the fist that had swung out and batted you away like a ping pong ball, but the force would surely leave bruising.

You catch a brief glance of the Soldier with his hand around the doctor’s throat, until you realise that his hand is in fact around a scalpel that is lodged inside the doctor’s throat, and you look away again.

The guards and his handler all hurry to diffuse the situation, garbled shouts and threats in a language you don’t understand, as tears begin to prickle your eyes. You were lucky to be alive, all things considered, just unlucky enough to be standing so close when he’d snapped. But although you weren’t dead, or dying, the blow had hurt.

Too soon for your liking a hand is harshly grabbing your bicep and yanking you to your feet.

The room seemed to have returned to how it had been before, the only signs of change being the dead body lying on the ground beside the Soldier, and the cuffs that were strapped around his wrists, holding him to the chair.

The hand holding you pushes you to walk forward, and you dig your heels in.

“No, please, I don’t–” You start, feeling your whole body begin to shake in panic. You’re cut off by another man, Karpov, who steps into your line of sight with a curled lip.

“Fix it.” He demands, accent heavy around his words. Your fear of the man behind him outweighs your fear of him, and you find yourself shaking your head, struggling to try and break free of the tight hold on you.

“No, I can’t, I can’t! Please–” This time you’re cut off by a sharp slap that sends your head flying to the side, the sound ringing in your ears and seemingly bouncing off the walls. Your chin is grabbed roughly and yanked to attention.

“You will fix him. Now.” Karpov spits, releasing you just as the guard holding you jerks you forward once more.

You’re pushed down onto your seat, your trolley of tools shoved beside you, the noise making you jump. For several seconds you can only sob, your whole body shaking violently as you try not to cringe away from the Soldier, who sits impassive now, his eyes turned down, his body slumped.

A harsh prod to your shoulder makes you move, and slowly you begin the process of opening up the metal arm, diagnosing the problems, and fixing them.

Your hands tremble the whole time, and your crying gets softer, but doesn’t stop, the pain in your abdomen pulsing and aching.

You wake with a sharp inhale, but as the dream fades and the morning sets in, you release it with sigh.

The dreams hadn’t become less frequent since Bucky had come into your life, but the power they once held over you, the ability to put you on edge and send your anxiety spiralling for the next few days had all but disappeared.

It was as though the fear of him specifically had become detached from your memories, and regardless of your friendship, you were grateful to leave it behind.

The events of last night begin to trickle back to you as you stretch and groan, waking up properly and considering all that had happened. You don’t know if Bucky had stuck around through the night, or had taken off in the early hours, but you know you still needed to apologise for your reaction in the bathroom, so forcing yourself out from your sheets, you pull on a thick sweater and stuff your feet in your slippers before making your way out of your bedroom.

It was still early in the morning, the sun only just beginning to rise, and you find yourself pausing in your doorway, eyes transfixed on the sight that was Bucky Barnes lit up in the morning light.

He wasn’t asleep, nor did you expect him to be if he had stuck around, but the view is no less breathtaking, the sun illuminating his side profile as if to tease you, to put on full display what you knew you could never have.

Bucky looks up from his phone after a moment, spurring you to move again, absently making for your kitchen.

“Morning.” You greet, mouth dry still.

“Morning. I already got coffee.” Bucky’s words make you pause again, and you blink at the sight you’d obviously missed with ogling him; two large takeaway cups, still in the little cardboard holder.

The cups are marked with the labelling from the cafe you’d often meet at, the one Bucky had revealed was his favorite only after you’d gushed about how good their coffee was.

“Oh,” Is all you’re able to say for a moment, changing paths to move slowly, almost gingerly toward him and the cup and now holds out for you.

“Thanks…” You continue when you’ve carefully plucked the drink from his fingers, and made the decision to take the seat beside him on the sofa.

Bucky takes his own coffee then, and you realise he’d been waiting for you to wake up before he’d started on his own. The thought makes your tummy flutter, but you tell yourself it’s only the memory of your dreams.

“Thanks for letting me stay… I probably shouldn’t have been getting around on my knee as much as I was.” Bucky says after he’s taken a sip from his cup. You watch him scrunch up his nose and fiddle with the lid, pulling it off and placing it aside. He always hated how small the drinking holes were.

“Of course. You looked awful, but I would have felt worse sending you off… especially since you’d come all this way to check on me.” You shrug, shooting him a smile.

Bucky grimaces momentarily.

“Yeah… You had me worried.” He tells you, and your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“You were?”

Bucky frowns dramatically and nods his head.

“Sam almost insisted on coming, just in case.” He informs you, and you have to tsk at yourself.

“Sorry…”

You both sit in amiable silence for a while and you try to hold together your mess of a mind, a scrambled concoction of thoughts and feelings.

“I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories last night… about…” Bucky speaks first, breaking the quiet and you blink at him for several seconds as his meaning sets in. You duck your head and try to keep from sighing.

“No, I shouldn’t have reacted so sourly.” You shake your head, and begin to fiddle with your coffee cup, tracing the printed sides.

“All I ever wanted to do was help people, I’d studied for almost ten years, and I was going to accept my dream job at Stark Industries… and then HYDRA happened…” You don’t look at him, you can’t. You’d never spoken about this before, not with anyone, even during your ‘trial’ after you’d gotten free.

“I could have fixed my window,” You say, gaining the courage briefly to lift your head and make eye contact. Bucky’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t speak.

“I could fix my shitty shower head, and noise my garbage disposal makes,” You gesture wildly to your kitchen and shake your head.

“But I can’t even pick up a screwdriver without my hands starting to shake.” You sigh, feeling almost lighter for confessing, despite the distress in your words.

Bucky drops his head, looking to his lap as he swallows, before he lifts his eyes again. You suddenly regret bringing it up. You know he felt guilty, you know divulging your reasoning would only make it worse. He opens his mouth, but you speak before him.

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t…” Your words catch in your throat at the way he stares at you, and you have to break away for a second, take a sip of your rink before you can continue.

“Please don’t apologise.”

He doesn’t apologise, but he doesn’t speak either, sitting back further, slumping over slightly. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for it. For anything. He’d done so much for you, had helped you more than he’d ever hurt you, but you aren’t sure how to tell him that.

“I had a dream last night,” You blurt suddenly, catching his attention again. You can see that the hand he doesn’t hold his coffee in is balled up, his whole body rigid and stiff.

“It was… I don’t know if you remember, but you’d come back from some mission, and you looked like shit,” You half chortle at the way he lifts his brow tightly.

“You were on edge, I guess, something not quite right… You attacked a doctor…”

“I remember.” Bucky nods, brow furrowing again, likely at the memory of what he’d done to the man. But then he looks sideways at you, his frown turning curious more than anything else.

“I don’t remember you being there…” He murmurs. You swallow and force a tight smile.

“That’s because you batted me away when you stood up.” You joke, and he makes a face as he ‘ahs’.

You watch him stare at the coffee in his hands for several seconds, sorting through his thoughts and emotions silently.

“I’d stopped having those kinds of dreams so much before you came around, and then they started up again.”

He looks at you then, expression sad but unreadable, his eyes flickering across your features as he tries to figure out your tone.

“That first day, when you came and apologised, I couldn’t help but be terrified. I knew what had happened to you, what they’d done, and that you’d been getting better, but I couldn’t help it.” You almost regret telling him that, watching as his eyes turn even sadder, but you needed to, to make sure the next part made sense.

“I wasn’t able to sleep for days… I kept thinking it was all some trick and… and you were going to come back and take me away again.”

You purse your lips and turn your cup around in your hands, your pulse speeding up with nerves and anxiety.

“... And I think that’s so funny now,” You can’t help but laugh around your words, shaking your head as Bucky looks up at you sharply, confusion clearer on his features now.

“Funny?” He asks, voice flat, as if he suspected you might be making fun of him. You nod.

“It’s funny because these days I feel safest when you are around.” You confess, feeling very raw and open, feeling like perhaps he would see right through you.

Bucky just watches you for a while, his face returning to that unreadable expression he often wore, the confusion now gone. You start to wonder if he’d understood you properly.

“It feels like even if somebody did try to take me, you might not let them…”

“I would never let them.” Bucky says quickly, hurriedly, as if snapping out of a trance. You blink at him, a little surprised by the intensity behind his words, but he just shakes his head, frowning as he leans forward to put aside his coffee cup, and turns to face you on the couch.

“Listen to me; I will never let that happen again.” Bucky reiterates, firmer this time, making you jump slightly when his hand curls around yours. You inhale sharply, suddenly thrown off kilter and off course. You’d only wanted to make him see how much he’d done for you, but now you have no idea what was happening.

You look down at his hand in yours, and then back to his face with bewilderment, startled again when he squeezes your fingers in prompt.

“I… I believe you. I know.” You stutter and stumble over the words, feeling suddenly like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Bucky nods, and swallows, and then he’s kissing you.

You can’t help but gasp against his lips, and you’re almost certain that this whole morning has been a fake out, and you hadn’t really woken up yet. His hand not held in your own comes to gently hold your face, and even though you felt like you were drowning, responding feels bizarrely natural.

His kisses you sweet, contrary to the suddenness of it all, lips dancing slow and smooth across your own, tentative and hesitant behind the bold move. Your mind spins, elation and happy disbelief shooting through you, that you weren’t alone in having developed strange feelings. Your hand is released for a moment, only for your coffee to be tugged lightly from your other, and you don’t know where it goes, don’t really care, because now you were free to return his hold.

It feels a little awkward at first, it wasn’t as though you’d done anything like this in more than a decade, but you eventually let your arm wrap around his shoulder, slipping your hand a little shyly up to the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky hums against your mouth in what you think is approval, and you scratch the spot a little more confidently.

And then, as if a brick had been tossed through your window, you’re shocked back to your senses.

You pull away from him quickly, jumping back and tearing yourself apart. Bucky looks surprised, and you can only stare back at him with wide eyes, breathing harder than you’d like to admit.

“What are you doing?” You manage to get out, your voice far too breathy and affected. Bucky’s brow furrows.

“You– You have a soulmate!” You tell him, trying not to sound like you were scolding him, gesturing to the hand that had previously been holding your face, the little black mark on his wrist clearly visible.

You wait for him to reply, and his expression seems to go through a journey before he focuses back on you.

“You said to me once that soulmate or not, there was still choice involved,” He speaks carefully, looking as anxious as you felt. He sucks in a breath, and looks at his wrist, before pulling his sleeve over it, and slowly holding his hand out toward you.

“I don’t– I don’t know who this is. But I know you.”

The words may as well sucker punch you in the gut, and you feel just as winded as you had in your dream. You can only stare at him, and his hand, in mild disbelief, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t take it back.

“… Really…?” Your voice is meek, small, and belongs to the tiny part of you that didn’t feel damaged, or broken, the part of you that had still held out hope. Bucky’s lips quirk in the corners, and understanding that you won’t be able to reach for him yourself, he moves closer again, both hands cupping your face now, but instead of kissing you properly, he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. Somehow it feels even more intimate, confirms the truth in his words even more than his lips on yours would have.

“Really.” He promises you.

If you like or enjoy, a comment or reblog is always highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!!!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

*busts in the door* ANTONI SUFFERING PROMPTS? may I offer any combo of 8: pour salt in my muse’s wound(s), 5: drug my muse, and/or 23: trip my muse for my favorite ashtray 😍

One Two Three Four Five

CW: Burns, salt in wound, cigarette smoking, internal and external dehumanization, pet whump, emeto mention

"Sssshhhh." His whimpers have gotten too loud again, and there's a hand in his hair, rough petting that feels more like another kind of violence, opening new wounds. It's Quiet One crouched in front of him, head tilted, eyes sparkling in the graying darkness as dawn comes closer and closer. "Hold still. There we go. Good boy."

A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine, the simple pure sense of doing what he is trained to do, made to do. Made for, what he wanted, to make up for whatever sins are buried deep inside his ruined memory.

"How do you know all this shit, anyway? Not just the movie. They didn't get into half this shit in the movie." Deep-Voice is back in the wrecked kitchen, going through cabinets with doors that hang off broken hinges.

The ashtray is in what was the living room, his hands tied behind him with his own t-shirt, ripped to long strips. He's sweating, even in the chilly empty room, sitting up but slumped over. They've tied one bit of his shirt around his neck with a little bow.

A droplet of sweat runs down his collarbone, dips over his chest, finds a new burn and the ashtray hisses, biting on his lower lip to kill the sound until he feels blood burst free of him again. How many times has he bitten his lip tonight?

Lookout sits over by the front door, miraculously still intact right down to its frosted glass panels. He keeps looking outside and then back, chain-smoking, one cigarette after another even after his face seems green around the edges. There are five from him, five new circles of pain for the ashtray to focus on.

Three with his eyes sparkling, two with a growing uncertainty. Then Lookout went and threw up outside in the bushes someone had once carefully landscaped along the front of the house. He had to be convinced to stop panicking over DNA, Quiet One had to lecture him on not listening to the fucking true crime podcasts any longer.

They're not gonna test your goddamn puke, asshole. Besides, does that look like somebody who's gonna call a fucking detective? Get back in here.

Now Lookout sits by the door, and the butts of the cigarettes he has already finished lay scattered around his shoes.

"My uncle," Quiet One says, using the ashtray's hair to lift his head again, looking over the glazed, empty obedience written alongside the suffering, worn openly on his face. "Works for WRU. They're not supposed to talk about it, sign like the world's most ironclad NDA, but he tells me stories sometimes."

"Ron?" That's Lookout, voice shaking. He looks like he wants to throw up again. The ashtray blinks at him, dazedly. How can he look sick when the ashtray is the one whose skin is burning for his crimes? "Ron works for-"

"Hey! What the fuck did I say about names?" Quiet One rolls his eyes. Deep Voice comes back in, shoes crunching on glass and rocks and bits of crumpled paper and everything else that's been dragged in here over time. He crouches next to Quiet One, holding out a thick cylindrical... something.

The ashtray's eyes can't focus enough to understand.

"Look what I found," Deep Voice says, softly.

Quiet One grins. "Oh, yeah. Do it, man."

Deep Voice flips open a little metal thing along the cylinder's lid, and the ashtray's eyebrows furrow, confused. His thoughts move slowly, fighting through deep water.

He realizes what it is just as Deep Voice tips the canister of salt and pours it over the new constellation they've made on his stomach, reaching out with his other hand to rub circles, pressing the grit deeply into the burns.

The ashtray's back arches, every muscle locked, choked sounds coming from a throat that won't open enough for a scream. Quiet One keeps a hand in his hair to hold him still, watching with bright avid eyes, glittering with fascination as he looks at the veins in the ashtray's neck standing out, the blood smeared along his chin from his lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," Quiet One says, softly. "You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?"

"What if he gets, like, infected from this?" Lookout asks, hands shaking so hard he drops the lighter when he tries to light up again. "And like. Dies?"

"What if he does?" Quiet One shrugs one shoulder. "Sucks to be him, then, I guess." His eyes move over the ashtray's face, watching with intensity as Deep Voice pours salt on another set of burns, listening to the ashtray's hitched sobs, watching the tears track through dirt down his cheeks. "Fuck, man. Those cheekbones. I can see why some old fucking perv wanted you."

It wasn't for his cheekbones. The ashtray would tell them if he could remember how to speak. It was for his crimes, it was because he had done something so terrible he would give anything to escape it. It was because he had to pay for what he'd done. It was because-

Abruptly, Quiet One lets go of his hair, letting his head fall back down, chin nearly to his chest. "Hey. Get over here with the lighter, man."

"Why?"

"I want to do one more. I'm tired, I want to go to bed. Come on."

The ashtray catches Lookout's soft oh thank god as he gets to his feet and shuffles over, dropping the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into Quiet One's waiting hands.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"What?"

"You smoked like the whole damn pack! This shit costs money, you fucking baby."

"Fuck off, I'll buy you more. Just. Finish it up, I want to go home, too." Lookout looks away, out the broken windows towards the street. "People're gonna be fucking waking up soon. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah. Asshole."

Quiet One turns back to him, using one finger to tip his chin up, almost gently. The ashtray looks back at him, blank but for the pain. It fills his body, the throb of each individual new mark joining the itching aches of the old. The oldest scars are so faint they hardly mar his skin, the newest are bright red burns, skin buckling and bubbling under heat it isn't made to withstand.

"Pozhaluysta," He whispers, lips barely moving. "Pozhaluysta, Mr. Davies, ostanovites'."

"Mmmn. That's Russian, isn't it? Sexy. One more, pet. Think you can handle one more burn for me? Take it quiet and we'll leave. Can you do that for me?"

The ashtray nods, frantically, in desperate need for it to end. He can go back to his room, with the bars on the windows, and sing himself to sleep. He can go back to his room.

"Good boy."

The ashtray stares at the little red circle of light as the cigarette is lit, the flickering flame. The click of the lighter as it shuts again, the smoke blown into his face. Familiar and wrong, this smoke is bitter and acrid and Mr. Davies always smelled sweet and almost herbal when he smoked, the deep clove smell in the ashtray's clothes, his hair, lingering on his skin.

They untie his hands from behind his back and the bow from his neck, Quiet One rubbing at the deep red marks left behind, thumb moving back and forth over the ashtray's Adam's apple, breathing softly. "Shit. God, I wish I had one of these for mine."

"Well, unless you discover a shitload of money, you'd just be stealing. Or... like, committing a bunch of fucking felonies."

"Yeah, yeah. If I clean up a bit I bet my uncle could get me in at WRU. I heard they have a handler there who fucking killed like four people before he got the job."

"Jesus Christ, dude, seriously?"

"Yeah. Peters or something. My uncle doesn't fuck with him. Nobody does. Said he's fucking gross but he gets Employee of the Month like all the time. I could be gross for money."

"Man, who wouldn't be gross for money."

"Ha, right? All right, let's finish this shit up." Quiet One sighs, looking back at the ashtray. "You were a good fucking time, man. Enjoyed the hell out of this. Here we go. Stay quiet for me now."

Quiet One presses the cigarette into the inside of the ashtray's wrist, right in the center of his barcode, the one place that Mr. Davies never touched.

The ashtray bites his lip until it bleeds, whining deep in his throat as new tears fall, but he doesn't scream. He's quiet.

He's good.

He can be good.

"There we go." A ruffle to his hair and Quiet One stands, Deep Voice following almost immediately. Quiet One relights his cigarette and walks to the door, where Lookout moves outside before them.

Quiet One is the last to leave, looking over his shoulder at the ashtray still sitting on the ground, slumped over, in the ruined house. He lifts up his cell phone, turns on flash, and takes a photo.

The ashtray flinches at a sudden blinding light he barely registers as what it is, and Quiet One and Deep Voice laugh.

Lookout is already out by the street, bouncing on his toes, looking back and forth like he expects sirens any second.

"Maybe we'll see you again sometime," Quiet One says, and then they leave, their voices and laughter fading along with the crunch of gravel under their shoes, until the only sound left is the ashtray's ragged, uneven breathing.

He doesn't know when he gets to his feet, or how. He pulls the sweatshirt back on and leaves the shreds of his t-shirt behind. The front door is open, and when he stumbles outside, the sky is pink along the edges of the horizon.

The ashtray moves down the sidewalk, and he doesn't know where he's going, or what he'll do when he gets there.

He ends up standing, swaying a little, next to a stop sign in a place that looks familiar but he doesn't know at all. The pre-dawn light has everything slightly eerie and unsettled in his mind, shapes crashing into each other, puzzle pieces that don't quite fit.

A hand touches his back and he spins around with a gasp, staring down in terror at a short elderly woman with dark brown skin and thick hair a blend of silvery white and black pulled no-nonsense at the nape of her neck.

She looks up at him, her own eyebrows knitted. "I said good morning. Did you hear-" She goes quiet, and her eyes move over his face with too much understanding.

She knows.

Everyone knows what he is. Everyone has always known. It was a mistake to believe he could be safe anywhere outside the four walls of Nat's home. It was a mistake to think he could build a life that might involve leaving here, living on his own.

Everyone will always know.

Antoni swallows, and shudders as it makes the fresh burn on his throat ache and throb in reminder. He struggles to move his mouth to speak. "M-... Miss Ruth. D-Dobroye utro."

He realizes only then that his sweatshirt is still unzipped, and she can see the line of scars, the new burns and old, and heat rushes to his cheeks underneath the dirt already caking them.

"Oh, honey. What happened to you?" Ruth's voice is low, and she looks to one side, and then the other. Then she sighs and steps back, gesturing. "Come on inside my house, sweetheart. Just me this week, no one else to bother us. Let me patch you up, your people are still sleeping no doubt."

His people.

He is safe with his people, inside the house. But he has never been safe when he leaves. It is too easy to read what he is in every inch of his skin.

"Spasibo," He whispers as he follows her up the steps.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 252: Suplex of Feels

Previously on BnHA: Deku, Kacchan, and Shouto visited Todobrook Heights one time, just the one!!, so of course it just so happened to also be the one time that Natsuo got straight up kidnapped by a villain for no reason because THAT’S JUST HOW LIFE GOES. Thankfully for Natsuo, the Terror Trio had kind of a Cinderella thing going on where if they didn’t beat a villain before Endeavor by midnight, their character development would turn back into a pumpkin, and I’m not really sure I stuck the landing on that metaphor but anyway! So Shouto used Flashfire to roast the villain alive, Deku used Blackwhip to save some hapless civilians who got caught in the crossfire of everything, and Kacchan used his cool fast explosions which don’t have a new name yet because he’s focused on more important things to rocket over and save Natsuo from becoming roadkill. And then Endeavor gave him and Natsuo a BIG OL’ HUG and my heart went, oh.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi grabs a handful of raw, squishy feels out of a bucket and just full on slaps me across the face with them. Endeavor has a moment of agonizing, excruciating vulnerability and apologizes to Natsuo for everything -- like, everything -- and says Natsuo doesn’t have to forgive him, and that in fact he doesn’t want him to forgive him, and that he just wants to atone for everything he’s done. And just, I can’t even describe the scene, but it’s just perfect down to the last detail, and exactly what I wanted. And meanwhile Deku, Shouto, and Kacchan stand there watching, and then Kacchan has a fucking epiphany and FINALLY DECIDES ON A HERO NAME!!, and I completely lose my goddamn mind, only to then be brought down to the lowest of lows when he immediately says that he’s not going to reveal it yet because THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE HE HAS TO TELL FIRST. So once I’m done sighing, we cut to later and Endeavor is all “Fuyumi I’m gonna buy a house for you guys so you can all live a happy life with your mom and never see me again,” and yeah. You guys I am in shambles.

hey everyone, whoever is doing Mangastream’s thumbnails every week deserves a raise though

especially since they’re not actually getting paid for it at all lol. their resolve to find the most ridiculous Kacchan expression every week and slap it on their home page is 100% a labor of love. AND IT SHOWS

lol and here I was half-worried the chapter would pick up after all the dust had settled, and we’d miss out on this glorious scene of Kacchan acting like he’s the goddamn wicked witch of the west and the sprinklers just turned on. anyways, I know what I’m thankful for this holiday

HAHAHAHAHA

I’D LIKE TO TAKE A MINUTE AND THANK ALL OF OUR SPONSORS AND OUR GREAT CREW WHO MADE THIS ALL POSSIBLE. SHOUT OUT TO ENDING, YOU’RE THE REAL MVP. BIG “HEY WHAT’S UP” TO TOUYA, WHO STRAIGHT UP DIED JUST SO ENDEAVOR COULD HAVE ANGST AT A CRITICAL MOMENT AND FORCE KACCHAN TO BE THE ONE TO SAVE NATSUO INSTEAD. AND A HUGE FUCKING “YOU THE MAN, BRO” TO THAT MORON SPEEDING BLINDLY IN THE TAXI CAB WHILE ON HIS PHONE AND NOT PAYING THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF ATTENTION TO THE ROAD IN FRONT OF HIM! WITHOUT YOUR RECKLESS DISREGARD FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY AND THAT OF OTHERS, THIS NEVER COULD HAVE HAPPENED. OH GOD, THEY’RE PLAYING THE MUSIC NOW, I GOTTA HURRY UP... AH... I’M SO GRATEFUL TO ALL MIGHT, GIVER OF SO MANY LEGENDARY HERO HUGS, AND TO SLIDIN’ GO, YES REALLY SLIDIN’ GO, WHO ESTABLISHED THIS GAG BACK IN CHAPTER 219. YOU BOTH WALKED SO ENDEAVOR COULD RUN. AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, TO HORIKOSHI KOUHEI, WHO IS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DETERMINED TO HAVE EVERY PRO HERO IN THE COUNTRY HUG KACCHAN BEFORE THE SERIES IS OVER. YOUR TIRELESS EFFORTS ARE THE REASON I GET OUT OF BED EVERY MORNING. GOD BLESS YOU ALL AND GOOD NIGHT

anyway

sorry Kacchan this is just your life now. you’re just stuck here. by the way, Endeavor really is just an absolute MOUNTAIN of a man, though?? like, a whole, absolute unit. like remember a few chapters ago when I was joking about how he was eight feet tall? well Natsuo is 5’11” according to the wiki, and you can tell by looking at him that he is a solidly built guy. like, he eats his fucking Wheaties. and Endeavor is still able to FULLY WRAP HIS ARMS AROUND both him and Katsuki together WITH ROOM TO SPARE and just. ?????? WHAT EVEN IS THIS MAN good grief

anyway poor Natsu looks close to passing out though so maybe you fucking should let them go Endeav

SDLFKJSDLFKH

1) seriously though look at how big his hands are jesus christ is he even a human!?!?

and 2)!! the amount of sheer detail which was put into this panel, with the facial expressions and the shading and all, only for Katsuki to open his big fucking mouth with ABSOLUTELY NO REGARD! like, this could have been one of the most heartrending panels in the entire series. but instead it’s forever immortalized with Bakugou fucking Katsuki and his brutal fucking speech bubble interjecting with the most vicious insult his angry toddler brain could think of. this panel has the same energy as Deku receiving a heartfelt thank you letter from a child whose life he saved only to unfold it and read that iconic opening line, “SORRY FOR PUNCHING YOU IN THE BALLS LOL”

oh my

boy took matters into his own hands. after Enji just STRAIGHT UP IGNORED HIS PLEAS lmao. this entire chapter is a gift, and we’re only on the second page. also that katakana there is all “SUPON”, which I don’t know what that means, but I have to tell you that to me this felt more like a “ZWOOP.” but that’s just how I personally read it

eyyyyy and there’s our half-naked lukewarm boi

and look, I’m not advocating for Shouto to actually be walking around half naked, because this is a children’s manga and Shouto is just a baby, and that kind of thing is obviously inappropriate unless you’re [checks notes] one of his female classmates, who just like Shouto are also only teenagers, but it’s okay for them because they have boobs. hey wait

but anyway, I will say that I appreciate that his uniform really did burn off just as you would expect, and that he used his ice quirk to preserve his modesty lol. quick thinking on his part

meanwhile all the people Deku rescued are stumbling out of their cars nauseously and thanking him. I like how all of the other traffic on this highway has apparently just come to a halt now. I wonder if the Endeavormobile also came equipped with some traffic cones and road flares that launched out of the trunk along with the costumes

oh hey a BakuDeku interaction, don’t mind me, I’m just... [folds hands on desk and leans forward]

someone please tell me what he actually called Deku here because I’m dying to know. anyways whatever it was, “dumb-ku” is a great translation. it’s just the right amount of stupid and immature, and I love how Deku just fucking answers to it anyway like shrug, whatever

also love how the first thing Katsuki asks is whether anyone is hurt. swear to god this kid makes me love him more with each passing week

fond sigh

okay guys, I’m getting more and more excited here now, and let me explain why. it’s because Katsuki, despite having achieved (as Deku points out) a complete and perfect victory here, is very obviously agitated and angry still. and I think the reason for that is because even though he’s achieved the goal Endeavor set out for them, he still hasn’t achieved what he wanted from this internship. the other two have! Deku accomplished his goal of gaining more control over Blackwhip, and Shouto is now well on his way to mastering Flashfire. but Katsuki specifically came here with the intent of discovering something intangible that he couldn’t put a name to. and even though he’s gotten stronger just like the others, he still hasn’t achieved what he set out to do yet, and I think he’s getting frustrated by it. and the reason I’m so excited is because I think we’re inching closer and closer to seeing that finally get resolved. ahhhhhhh

(ETA: THIS CHAPTER IS THE MONKEY’S PAW WISH OF CHAPTERS.)

anyway I’ll shut up now and read. here’s Katsuki bragging to Endeavor, and Endeavor doing his best All Might impression what the fuck

that line could have come straight out of All Might’s mouth and it would have sounded 100% natural. well everyone, we did it. we fucking broke Endeavor. I hope you’re happy. lol what the fuck is happening what is this

DFKLSLDGHK

I fucking see those wobbly speech bubbles Endeavor, are you crying, because -- !! holy shit this chapter is taking my emotions all over the place

lol Kacchan’s pissed off that Endeavor isn’t more pissed off about being shown up by some punk kids

Deku’s eyes. this chapter. I just

ohhhhhhhhhhhh shit here we go

for everyone out there who was worried that Natsu would just forgive Endeavor outright after the events of this chapter, I think we’ve arrived at the part where your fears are assuaged. I pretty much expected this was how it would go down, because for all the criticism he’s been getting week after week, Horikoshi has been writing the Todorokis realistically and consistently throughout this entire arc, and this was the natural conclusion based on what we’ve seen up till now. Natsuo won’t just forgive Endeavor just like that, because why would he? and Endeavor just has to deal with it. and it’s all very sad and painfully real

SON OF A BITCH

the fucking words “I’m sorry” really just came out of his mouth at last, holy shit. this is the first time, right? as far as I can recall, anyway. oh shit

oh shit

my fucking jaw. just dropped. just. fuck me, I wasn’t ready for this. sure Enji, just go ahead and pour your heart out. lord

imagine if his voice actor goes all out in this scene like Katsuki’s did in episode 61. holy shit, I never thought the thing that destroyed me would be a sad confession in a fucking shounen manga by the character I used to despise. life is funny

ohhhhhhhhhh

[awkward glance around the fandom] soooo. how’s everybody doing? aheh. [coughs]

oh shiiiiiiIIIIItttt

oh look at that, Endeavor didn’t actually murder his child, who could have predicted that. but maybe I’ll just shut up now though since I’m not here to start any shit

and the pain train to feels junction just keeps on chugging. fuck

YOU SEE!! BRUTAL!! RUTHLESS!! SO REALISTIC IT HURTS. Endeavor is genuinely sorry, but it’s all coming way too late to be of any use! and Natsuo is so pained because he honestly probably would like nothing more than to be able to forgive his dad, and for them to all just be a happy, normal, loving family again, but he can’t. because they’re not. and apologies can’t erase the past, or make up for it. there is no way to change what happened. Touya’s still dead, and the scars from all those years of neglect and abuse are still fucking there, and they’re not just going to go away, even if Enji is remorseful. Enji becoming a good man now doesn’t make up for all the years that he wasn’t! he can’t just undo it! and that’s the tragedy of it!! you feel so bad for the man -- or at least, I do -- but at the same time, part of the atonement process is to accept the consequences of everything he did!

and also, for everyone saying he hasn’t faced any actual consequences yet -- one person in particular sent me a very detailed and thoughtful ask, which I apologize for not responding to yet -- I say this with all due respect: there. look. there are your consequences, right there. everything he will never have. everything he can’t salvage. the pain of knowing he was the cause of all this. the pain of seeing the misery in his son’s eyes and knowing he can’t fix it, and knowing the hurt he’s caused to the ones he loved most. that is karma. that’s a fucking punishment. that’s an agony beyond any physical torture that anyone could ever possibly dream up. his punishment is that after all these years, he finally gets to feel all of the suffering he’s inflicted on them, and he’d do anything to take it back now, but he can’t. that’s it! and we all fucking hate it, and no one is happy! and it’s not fucking fair! haha! but that’s how it fucking is, though. and I swear to god, I keep saying it, but it’s some of the most brutally realistic shit I’ve ever seen in a fucking manga. fuck

anyways, I need to stop monologuing or else I’m never going to finish this fucking chapter, but rest assured my soul is being ripped the fuck apart. hmm

:’)

(ETA: note the conspicuous lack of a Kacchan reaction panel directly after the “I’m never gonna forgive you” panel. everyone else gets one. but not him. in fact, there are no more reaction panels of him until this speech ends, and then we get one zoomed far away where we can’t really see his face. but I’m sure that’s all just a coincidence and means absolutely nothing! oh baby. what a chapter.)

:’)))))))

by the way, quick shoutout to that person in the taxi giving them the Rock Lee Eyes and having just no idea what the fuck is going on sob. thanks to you for keeping me from breaking into full on sobs here. I’m holding it together for you, random deer-in-headlights citizen

[INHALES!!!]

that’s it. I don’t. fuck. anyways. I ranted about all my feelings already, so just. ... you all get it by this point, right?

oh Kacchan. penny for your thoughts. I’m almost done with that essay I keep rewriting. you have a lot to think about right now huh

and Shouto. oh Shouto. safe to say this is a side of his father he’s never seen nor imagined he would see before

YOU GUYS THIS IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT THOUGH, SHIT

[GRABS THIS PANEL AND FRANTICALLY WAVES IT ALL OVER THE BNHA TAG] I’M!!! JUST!!! SAYING!!! THOUGH!!!!!!!

oh, we’re still going? SURE WHY THE FUCK NOT

WHATEVER HORIKOSHI!!! JUST KEEP COMING AT ME, THEN!! GO AHEAD AND FINISH ME OFF WITH A FUCKING SUPLEX OF FEELS!! YOU SON OF A BITCH

and now Ending’s freaking the fuck out and screaming for Endeavor to stop. lol it’s like the villain version of Can’t Ya See-Kun. Endeavor you jackhole, this isn’t on brand! CUT IT OUT

forget it, Jake. it’s Character Development

now the police are arriving and Deku’s like THANK GOODNESS because the awkwardness was about to go critical here. meanwhile, pay no attention to how Katsuki is staring at him despite having no real reason to be in this panel!

[sidles up next to Kacchan] so hey fella. did any of that hit a nerve, perchance. did it open any metaphorical eyes. dust off any momentous revelations that you’ve been valiantly trying to keep shelved in your mental basement. have the SEEDS of your PERSONAL GROWTH been CULTIVATED. are the JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES of NOT BEING A DICK knocking at your inner door!?

anyway so now we’re cutting to Endeavor talking with the authorities while Chauffeur Armstrong tells him he needs to watch his back

friendly reminder that a bearded hermit flew around town on a glass hoverchair singing a song about Endeavor bringing darkness to the world or some shit not too long ago. that’s still a thing! better watch it Enji

HOLY FUCKARONI

(ETA: shoutout to that “neither does the light” line because that’s some straight up Harry Potter quotable bullshit and I love it and Endeavor’s character development continues to slay me that is all.)

FUCKING!!! CHRIST!!! OH GOD!!! OH JESUS!!!!

HMGGHHHHAAAA SOMEONE HELP ME OH MY GOD I’M SHAKING, AHHHHHHH

(ETA: listen you guys, in all of my “!!!!” I didn’t stop to appreciate all of the other things about this scene. but Shouto has changed into his hero costume which is a great little detail that I love because he obviously didn’t feel like standing around freezing his butt off and being oggled by the crowd. and then we have Natsu coming over to thank them all for saving his life, which is great, and he’s such a sweetheart. and then Deku actually saying “Bakugou” for probably the first and only time in his life lmao. and then, finally, his fucking face when he realizes Kacchan has finally chosen a hero name. he’s fucking ecstatic. he can’t wait!! anyway so Deku is me.)

NO BUT I’M FULLY SERIOUS YOU GUYS, I’M TREMBLING LIKE A FUCKING LEAF, IT’S PROBABLY THE CAFFEINE IN ME BUT STILL, OH MY GOD, I’M PARALYZED, I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN, MY HEART IS POUNDING, MY LIFE IS ABOUT TO BE FOREVER CHANGED, OH FUCKSTICKS, OH SHIT

NOOOOOOOOOOO

FUCK MY FUCKING -- WHERE IS HAWKS!!?!? WHERE IS HE!?!? I SWEAR TO GOD IF THAT FUCKING MAGPIE DOESN’T SWOOP DOWN RIGHT THE FUCK NOW WITH JEANIST IN TOW ALL “HAHA IT WAS ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING” I’M GOING TO --

(ETA: but lmao at the fact that Shouto was all “okay, so you’re not going to tell him, but what about me, your Best Friend?” like he really heard “DROP DEAD ASSHOLE” and thought “well, that was Midoriya though, LET ME TAKE A STAB AT IT.” this is the most earnest child in the universe and this OT3 continues to bring me boundless joy.)

FUCK

LISTEN YOU KNOW I LOVE THAT TODODRAMA, BUT YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT TO ME!! I’M A HUMAN BEING!! IF YOU CUT ME I BLEED!! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS. I’M GOING TO STRAIGHT UP CRY ALL OVER AGAIN YOU HEARTLESS PIECE OF SHIT

looool

“and his friends.” you hear that, Kacchan. now COME BACK OUT HERE AND TELL US YOUR HERO NAME RIGHT NOW YOUNG MAN!!!

Endeavor you better save this chapter. I’m counting on you dog

oh. oh shit

hahaha. well fuck

first of all, look at Mr. “la dee dah I’m just going to build my family a new house on a whim because I’m so fucking rich” over here, like, damn, Endeavor. and second of all my heart is just a bludgeoned hemorrhaging mass of feels at this point and I’m not even going to try to salvage it. and third of all, this is exactly the type of resolution I wanted, pain and all, and I’m so goddamn satisfied with it it’s almost ridiculous. because the man fucking gets it. for everyone who continues to doubt Endeavor’s intentions, look no fucking further than this. this isn’t a narcissist trying to gaslight his victims and get back in his family’s good graces and make it all about him yet again. this is a man who understands that the best thing for his family right now is for them to be allowed to piece their lives back together without him. and so he’s enabling them to do that, and voluntarily stepping out of the picture while still providing for them. and damn but I respect that so much. fuck yeah, Enji. this was the right thing to do. it doesn’t make up for all the mistakes you’ve made, because nothing can do that. but you’re a better man now, and this right here is exactly the type of thing people mean when they say actions speak louder than words. so, respect

and that’s it! we’ve officially experienced all of the human emotions in this chapter! oh and also that’s it, as in the chapter is done. so yeah. well that sure was a whirlwind now wasn’t it

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 14

Warning: cussing, slight mention of the death of an asshole ex

The sisters all went to get some rest after the long night, but Beetlejuice had other plans. He had so much built up energy that he terrorized the neighborhood 'till the late morning, then teleported back to the house, still wiping his happy-teary eyes.

He appeared in a green puff of smoke right behind Rei, who was clearly cooking something in the kitchen. Even though she dressed up properly in highwaisted denim shorts and a kawaii pastelpink tank top, and did her makeup, her baggy eyes showed that she haven't slept a minute. He peaked over her shoulder.

- HI THERE! - he shouted, which made Rei drop the ladle she was holding, spilling batter all over the counter.

- JESUS TAPDANCING CHRIST!!! - she widened her eyes, held her chest and breathed out. - Crap dude, you scared the living shit outta me. - Beej flashed a wide smile at Rei while doing a little fist pump and hopped on the counter's clean part.

- What can I say, I'm a demon, get used to being jumpscared, doll. - he said with a theatrical shrug. Rei rolled her eyes, grabbed a dish towel and wiped off the counter. Beetlejuice watched excitedly as she opened up the waffle maker, slided the cooked waffles out onto a plate, then after yawning, loaded it back up. Beej tilted his head sideways. - I wouldn't mind if you'd throw one of those yummylooking thingies in my way, sugar.

Rei fixed her glasses and raised an eyebrow at BJ.

- Aren't ya... You know... Kind of undead? - the demon pulled one side of his upper lip up.

- Yeah, so?

- So you wouldn't have to eat? - Beej threw his head back and groaned.

- I don't HAVE to, but I LOVE to. - he looked back at Rei and shrugged with his hands held up. - I dunno, it makes me feel... - he sighed with a smile. - ...alive.

For a couple of minutes, Beetlejuice just watched as Rei made breakfast. He was pulled out of daydreaming by the sound of hissing. Sofía came into the kitchen, holding Minerva in her arms. The cat hissed and groaned at Beej, who, as a response, just put his stripey snakelike tongue out. He looked at Sofía who still seemed to be furious. He started to dangle his feet and flashed the cutest smile he could.

- Sofía, sugarpuffs, may I say you look absolutely stunning on this fine morning of...

- Cut it, demon. - she said with dead eyes. The smile on BJ's face froze off. - You'll achieve nothing with flattery. - she set the cat down on the floor, then got back up and pointed at the demon. - Plus. I don't like you. - Beej put his hands on his hips.

- Well then go and fuck yourself!

Sofía rolled her eyes and went to the refrigerator. Minerva sat down before Beetlejuice on the floor, watching him with hauntingly thin pupils and perked up ears. But at least she didn't hiss anymore. Rei looked at her sister's way.

- Hey I'm pretty thirsty, would ya, Miss Grumpy, check if we have any orange juice left? - Sof reached into the fridge, got the bottle out, shaked it, removed the cap, and drank every last drop of orange juice. After this, she put the bottle down and flashed a meaningful look at Rei.

- No, we’re all out.

- I have a lot of questions, first of all, how dare you? - Sofía didn't answer, just grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and exited the kitchen. Beej looked after her with puckered up lips, then looked at Rei questionably.

- Is she always this abominable? - Rei shrugged.

- She's just pissed at the three of us now so no, not always... But a lot of times. You're gonna get used to it though.

Beetlejuice laid back, put his hands under his head and floated next to Rei.

- I'm getting bored, so be a doll and tell me, where's my favourite little baby rook? I wanna tell her how my daily hauntings went, she's gonna LOVE it. - Rei pointed to the back door without looking up from the waffles.

- Outside, in the conservatory. Since we couldn't sleep, we fixed the glass panel Matthias broke. Now she's talking with her mom on the phone. - Beetlejuice started to float towards the door but Rei grabbed his jacket. - Stopstopstop, bring her this. And make sure she eats it. - and handed him a plate full of waffles, and a bottle of Nutella.

- What, why? - Rei sighed, put down the Nutella on the middle counter and pulled her hair back.

- Look, Beetlejuice, that's your name, right? - the demon nodded with enthusiasm. It was SO NICE hearing his name from a breather's mouth, not his own. - Okay so, Beetlejuice, just so you know, Ari has a very bad habit. When she's feeling down, she just won't eat. And that makes her hangry. And that makes her insufferable. And you don't want that. - she shook her head. - You NEVER want that. But comfort food always makes her want to eat, so... - she raised her arms and shrugged. - Here I am! Being a best sister/bestie, making her fuckin comfort food for breakfast. - Beetlejuice put his legs on the ground and grabbed the plate out of Rei's hand.

- Okay, I'll bring it to her... - he snickered and reached for the Nutella. - ...you slavemaster you. - he headed out but in the archway, he turned back and looked at Rei with a light smile. His green hair turned glowy a bit and his tips got a shy white shade. - Hey Rei? - the girl stepped back from the waffle maker and looked at him. Beej pulled his shoulders up and bit his lower lip. - Thanks for letting me stay.

Rei smiled widely and looked at the ground, blushing.

- Well, am I a hero? Really can't say, but... yes. - BJ laughed then blew raspberries. Rei gestured with her hand in the winter garden's direction. - Besides, Ari doesn't make friends easily, and it was nice to see that there's someone who gets her and genuinely laughs with her... Even though they're not a human. - BJ was still smiling, biting down on his lower lips. And were those slight pinkish streaks? - So I didn't have a choice, really. But yeah, you're welcome. - she went back to making waffles but quickly stepped back to face the demon. - By the way, she will totally act like she's alright but, let's face it, she's a mess. - A hot mess, thought Beetlejuice. - So be a nice emotional support demon boy please. - BJ's smile turned into a frown.

- What? Most of the time I even suck at being a proper demon... and now you want me to be a nice demon? - Rei snapped with her tongue.

- Did I stutter? Be brave enough to suck at something new. - she made a shooing gesture. - Now shoo before the waffles get cold.

When Beej arrived at the conservatory, happily floating while munching on a bug he catched earlier, Ari was sitting on the stairs, facing the inside of the garden with a sleeping Sirius in her lap. She had a red dropped-shouldered top on, which had the image of a running cherry bomb on it. She also wore comfy black knee-high trousers and fluffy red slippers with devilhorns on it. She was having a call.

- Ay no me digas! - she exclaimed with a huge hand gesture. She sounded so enthusiastic. - Is that true? Ahhh I can't wait to see mis primos favoritos! I miss those little rascals so much already! - Beetlejuice stepped behind Ari, leaned closer to her ear and whispered in the raspiest voice he could produce:

- BOO. - Ari turned around with a smile to face the demon, and scruffed his hair. Beetlejuice's hair's tips turned into a light pink shade. Ari pulled it a bit towards herself to see it better but Beetlejuice snapped his teeth towards her hand. She let out a tiny laugh.

- Sorry Mom, I gotta go now. A friend came over. - she stopped for a second, listening to the answer while smiling. Beetlejuice crouched down to her level. Sirius stood up, sniffed around the demon and wrinkled up his nose. Beej petted his head. The dog lifted his head up, licked his hand, then turned around and headed towards his dogbed to sleep a bit more. Ari wrapped a lock of her hair on her index finger. - Yeah. - she all of a sudden shook her head. - No mamá! NO?! - she faceplamed herself, then made the impression of peeling her face off. Beetlejuice let out a loud laugh. - Yepp he's weird like me. - she laughed and held her phone away from her face. She gazed at the demon with a sarcastic look on her face. - My mom asks if you're handsome or not. - she held the phone closer to Beej and did the hand gesture of talking.

- I'm devilishly handsome, Miss Rodríguez. - Ari gasped. She mouthed "Did ya remember my family name?" to which Beej nodded happily. Ari put the phone back to her ear. Her mom said something that made her roll her eyes. Hard.

- Okay that's WAY too much Mamá I'M HANGING UUUUPPP. - she sighed. - Sí, sí, sí. Give abuelita mi besos y bendiciones, okay? I love ya. - she sent kisses. - Bye, bye, BYYYEEE. - she put her phone away. Then with glistening eyes, looked at her demon buddy. - How was your dawn of haunting? - she cupped his face in her hands which made him kind of melt. At least his eyes looked like that. - TELL. ME. EVERYTHING.

- The. BEST. - he took a deep breath (even though he didn't need to) as Ari released his cheeks and planted the biggest smile on his face. - You know the house down the road? With the pretty pond and shit? - Ari nodded as her eyes started to wander around BJ's figure. - Well, a couple lives there with their kids and...

- OH MY GOD MILLENNIUM FALCON WAFFLES!!! - interrupted Ari and snatched the plate out of the demon's hand. Beetlejuice blinked fast with annoyance in his golden eyes.

- I thought interrupting was my thing. - the girl rived the Nutella from Beetlejuice's hand. He gasped and held his chest in a theatrical way. - Wow. Ya rude.

- Shut up Beej and tell me what you did to those poor kids. - the demon lifted one of his eyebrows with a cheeky halfsmile. Ari gasped and held his mouth. - Shit can I call ya that? - she definitely started to panic based on the stuttering. - I'm sorry it just came out, it's okay if you don't like it, I mean if you don't like nicknames I understand just...

Beej interrupted her with a gurgling laugh which made his head fall back. His vertebrae were cracking like an old door. He held Ari's shoulder with one hand and squeezed her cheeks together with the other. He locked his gaze in the girl's.

- If I don't like something, I'll ring a bell. - he pulled the girl closer to him by her cheeks. He lowered his voice, tilted his head a bit, pulled a smirk and some hooded eye action. His face was only a few centimeters away from Ari's. - But I'd like the best if you'd call me... Daddy. - Did... Did she just stare at my lips?

- You wish. - she said in a cooky tone. BJ laughed and let her go.

During the next hour or so, Beetlejuice and Ari talked and laughed their asses off while the demon was floating around. Beej showed Ari what he did last night, for example how he took off his head and rolled it under one of the kids' bed. Or how he hid in the wardrobe of the other child, then when he was falling asleep, he pulled his lower jaw down and let his tongue wander out of the closet, making him scream out in a half-asleep delirium. Ari tried so hard not to think about the kinky uses of a tongue like that... But she failed so miserably. She turned red as a tomato. She stood up and went to one of her cupboards of herbs to distract Beej from her face. He quickly stood up as well and stepped behind her. He was still talking while Ari was looking around in the cupboard, searching for her herb-book. Gods he sounded so happy. Ari glanced sideways with a smile. The demon's golden eyes were full of life, of freed up energy and...

- WAIT, you wear eyeliner?! - asked Ari, interrupting BJ in discussing whether he should scare the old couple living down the road just a little, or whether he should scare them to death. He crossed his arms before his chest and his smile quickly turned sour.

- Well, I like it. - he sounded defensive all of a sudden. Like he got bullied because of this before, thought Ari. - I know it's a bit wobbly but I LIKE IT and that's...

- Bug, eyeliner makes every guy hot AF. - stated Ari, making BJ surprised. He shook his head in disbelief, which made Ari giggle. - Yeah it's wobbly a bit but it looks awesome anyways! - she put the herbs down and stepped closer to Beej. He almost stepped back but Ari held him by his suspenders and pulled him closer. Her eyes twinkled as she took stock of BJ's makeup. - I think slightly metallic purple or dark green would suit your face. - Beej had the biggest, horniest smile spread out on his face.

- So basically what you're saying is that you think I'm sexy? - Ari let go of the demon's suspenders go and shaked her blushing off with a laugh. Beetlejuice blew raspberries at her since he didn't get an answer.

Ari got back to dealing with her herbs. She took a big cleaver and a chopping board out of the cupboard. Beej stepped behind her and put his head on her shoulder.

- Whatchya doin'? - Ari shrugged.

- Boring mortal stuff. - BJ clicked his tongue and rolled his golden eyes.

- Come on now, I'm not usually interested in boring mortal stuff, but this involves a cleaver so it can't be THAT boring. - Ari looked sideways, spotting BJ's puppy eyes. She snorted. Beej pouted his lower lip. - Pleeeeeaaase.

Ari smiled lightly. Nearly nobody was interested in her home remedies, not counting her family from her mother's side and her sisters, of course. So hearing someone new genuinely being interested in what she was working on, made her feel warm and appreciated. She lifted up the big, leather covered black book, which had pretty golden cornflowers painted on the cover. It had a ton of bookmarks and notes sticking out of it; some were stained, time made some yellow, some were colorful and bright and fairly new.

- I haven't slept, only 2 hours since yesterday and my body can't function with that much. But, you see, my mind is still hectic, which keeps me up, but I NEED to sleep to work properly. - Beej nodded. - So I'm making myself a nice pot of sedative, nightmare-repelling tea. - the demon nodded again. Ari's eyes wandered around his hair: now it had a fairly light green shade, with light pink and yellow tips. What do these colors mean?!

- And what do you need that for? - he pointed at the book Ari was still holding. She opened it up and started to turn the pages over.

- It's my family's herb book. It's easier to work from a recipe, I don't mess up anything like this. - she flipped a page and touched the next one. It had an extruded purple flower glued to the page. - Only a couple pages survived from the original book, but I can proudly say that some of our recipes date back to the 17th century, some are even older. - she sighed. - What I'd give to own the original copy... - she lifted the book up and hugged it. - It's nice to use the knowledge of my ancestors, it's like holding their hands. - her face turned foggy for a bit. - Even after what happened to them.

- What happened? - asked Beetlejuice while looking at the book.

- The Inquisition. Back in the 1600's in Cataluña, many of my family members were burnt at the stakes. They were thought to be witches, bringer of sickness and bad harvest. - she snorted. Loathing was audible while she talked. Beej pinched her cheek and flashed a toothy grin.

- So, you follow their path! - Ari let out a weird laugh, turned around, still holding the book, and leaned against the cupboard, smiling at the demon's slight remark. She flipped through some pages then pointed at a coffee-stained recipe.

- THAT'S IT! That's what I was looking for. - she pulled her hair back and smiled nostalgically. - Anise hyssop for defeating fear, bergamot for a good night's sleep, buckwheat because of high vitamin and mineral content, californian poppy for my anxiety, sage for basically everything, granadilla flower for calming nervousness and against bad dreams, chamomile and lavender for flavour and chillsies. - she hugged the book once again and breathed in heavily, with a smile on her face. - It's gonna be so good with honey. - Beej leaned against the cupboard as well and scratched his stubble.

- Just... Leave the sage out. - Ari raised an eyebrow.

- Why?

Beetlejuice let out a loud, aversive sigh and looked sideways at Ari while pushing his hair back.

- I bet ya know they say it repels demons. - Ari nodded slowly, disbelief in her eyes. - Yeah, shit works.

Beej made a face so disgusted it made Ari burst out with laughter. He put his palm on the top of her head and pushed her away. She elbowed his side in return.

- Okay, okay, then sage stays out of the mixture. - she said, still smiling like an idiot, and pointed at the other cupboard. - Wanna help me find my dried herbs? - Beej shrugged with a sarcastic face.

- Yeah, sure, ask the dyslexic demon to look for labeled magic herbs.

While Beej was searching through Ari's a hundred and twenty frickin tiny glass vials, for a slight second Ari checked her demon buddy out from the corner of her eye. She flashed an evil smile as a devilish thought planted itself into her mind.

- Hey, Beej, can I ask ya something? - Beetlejuice looked out from behind the other cabinet.

- Sure. - Ari's smile turned even more maleficent. Beetlejuice exactly knew what that naughty smile meant. Shit, he made that face at least a thousand times a day.

- Aren't you a little short to be a demon? - Beej gasped, held his chest, then when Ari started laughing at him sticking his stripey tongue out like a snake, he said in the most angelic tone he could produce:

- Says the oversized toddler! - Ari opened up her arms, mimicking something huge.

- But aren't you supposed to be a big, flaming entity? - Beej stepped before Ari with a similar smile on his face then lifted her up by her armpits... which she seemingly hated, based on the angry pre-schooler impression on her face. Although, the thought of "shit, he's strong... WAIT, NO, THAT'S NOT HOT, FUCK, BRAIN, NO... Okay act angry that should solve ya problem... You hoe." passed her mind.

- Aren't you supposed to be with your parents, my sweet, tiny, chubby cheeky child? - while talking, Beej summoned 2 more arms, pinched the girl's cheeks with them and did smooching sounds.

- Imma so punch you in the throat. - said Ari with the maddest tone she could. Beej raised an eyebrow and changed to a crooked, husky, even kind of horny tone.

- You had your chance when I kissed ya, but ya didn't. - Ari smirked.

- You call that a kiss?

Beetlejuice dropped Ari. He turned around, all 4 hands in the air, looking so irritated that even the tips of his hair turned into a slight reddish shade.

- EXCUSE ME?! - he pointed at Ari, who was still sitting on the ground, stroking her hurt bottom. - NO, EXCUSE YOU! HOW DARE YOU?!?!? - he popped his tongue, then went to the plate of waffles smothered in Nutella. - You know what? - he pointed at the girl again with one hand, put 2 on his hips, and grabbed a waffle with the fourth. - No more waffles for you. - he said as he bit into the Millennium Falcon. As he swallowed the bite, his eyes got wide and his additional 2 hands disappeared. An expression of wander and astonishment found its way to his face. - OHMYGOD THIS IS HEAVENLY!!! - he said in an amazed tone, then quickly changed back to his normal. I'm a badass demon, I shouldn't show emotions. - Ironically. - he stack his index finger into the bottle full of chocolatey nougaty hazelnut cream. - What is this shit?

Ari looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a weird little smile, not understanding her buddy's fuss about the delicacy. She shrugged.

- Nutella... Never heard of it? - Beej rolled his eyes and grunted.

- Babe, this house was uninhabited for at least 25 years. And the last people who lived here were between 90 and coffin-break years old. And that was in the late 80's. - he licked the paste off his finger and changed to a more seductive tone. - Lower your expectations about me. I might look young and devilishly handsome but I'm so new to these modern shits. - Ari rolled her eyes and stood up. Horny bastard.

- Okay, grandpa. - Beej stack his tongue out but Ari just pushed him in a childish way. - Gimme a bite too, I'm still starving. - she said as she reached for the plate Beej was now holding.

She took a bite out of a waffle, then put it back and started chopping up her dried herbs. She was almost done with the chopping and the piece of Millennium Falcon when she noticed that BJ was literally staring at her face with a cheeky halfsmile. His eyes were wandering around her lips.

- What are ya lookin' at? - she asked abruptly. Beej shrugged a bit and pointed at her canines as she took a last bite from the waffle.

- I like the teeth. - Ari smiled widely. She put down the cleaver and tapped her teeth with her long, black, spiderwebbed nail on her pointing finger.

- Thanks, they're fake porcelain caps. - she pointed at Beej's smile. - I like your double canines too! They look so badass. - Beej's hair turned into a weird mixture of light pink, shy white and bright green. He started to play with his fingers and looked down at his shoes. He bit his lower lip with a flattered smile. Ari leaned closer. - Am I crazy, or just like your hair and your eyes, those can change too? - Beej lifted his head up and pulled his hair back. He scratched his scrag as his teeth changed into a bear trap-esque, sharklike weirdness. Ari jumped back and screamed while covering her mouth in excitement. - OHMYGOD THAT'S SO HARDCORE! - she stepped back to Beej and tapped his teeth. - WOOOOOWZAH! - she grabbed the demon's shoulders and shaked him a bit. - You are the most awesome person I've ever seen. - she stepped back and crossed her heart with her nail. - Swear on my black gooey heart.

Beej changed his teeth back into "normal", but he was still scratching his scruff and was looking down. He was obviously taken aback. It looked liked he had never been genuinely complimented before.

- Well... Thanks... - he stuttered as he turned more pink. Ari looked at the ground too, blushing and smiling shyly as she said the next words:

- You know, I'm glad we winded up at your haunted house. If you wouldn't have been here, all three of us would be dead by now. Nobody else would have been able to stop my crazy ex. So... Yeah. - she sighed and bent down to peak at Beej's eyes. They found each other easily. They both smiled with bitten lips. - Thanks for killing him. - Beej cleared his throat to quickly regain his composure. He put his hands in his pockets.

- Ey, I got you. You know I do. That's what undead best friends are for.

After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Ari grabbed her chopped up herbs and pointed at the kitchen with her other hand.

- I'll boil these up quickly. Wanna watch The Nightmare Before Christmas in my room while I dose off to sleep? - Beetlejuice's eyes lit up as he nodded.

- Sure... Let me grab my snack. - he snapped and with that, the Nutella appeared in his hand. His devilish smile didn't tell nothing good about his intentions. Ari laughed lightly and reached for the bottle.

- Hey, come on, that's my Nutella! Give it back! - as soon as she almost reached the bottle, Beetlejuice started to float with a laugh, just out of Ari's reach. - HEY COME ON, THAT'S CHEATING!!! - she jumped up but Beej floated higher. - GIVE MY STUFF BACK!!! - Beej layed on his back while floating out of the winter garden, eating the paste with his fingers.

- If you don't pay your bio-exorcist, you will get repossessed! - Ari jumped after him one more time, then stomped angrily.

- This fuckin' demon, I swear to Ra... - she looked at her puppy, who was looking after the floating demon. - Hey, Sirius! - he peaked his ears up. - CATCH!

[mustardprecum]

So I’ve seen what you written with your past few posts and it’s literally so good!! Absolutely adore your style of writing xx if you want, could you do a little ficlet about Steve and billy maybe being stuck in some place together and slowly getting more comfortable and closer with each other?

[AWWWHHH THANK YOU T wT lemme try now that im sober. Hope you’re in the mood for stuck in an elevator] This sort of got away from me, so I’m putting it under a read more. 

Everyone had been excited for the field trip to Chicago. It was a big city with so much to see and do, and they were getting a whole 90 minutes of free time in between scheduled stops and tours.

Maybe if Billy wasn’t a midwestern hick who hadn’t grown up in San Diego, with frequent visits to LA and more than a few times, San Francisco, he would have been excited too.

He made one snide comment about cities on the coast, someone took that as an invitation to compare the ‘great’ lakes to the ocean, and now he was in an even worse mood. They were standing in front of the lake, which had nothing on the Pacific, and were about to be released.

“Stay with your buddies,” said the chaperone, holding out slips of paper. “And meet back at the hotel by 4.”

Tommy H. muttered something, but Billy didn’t bother trying to hear him. He was ready to go back inside because it was too fucking humid, his hair was heavy, and it felt like the air was sweating on him.

If he had listened to what Tommy said, he would have known that the chaperone had assigned him and Steve Harrington as buddies, and that Harrington was walking over.

“Try not to get mugged, Harrington,” Tommy jeered like it was an insult.

Harrington rolled his eyes as he came to stand in front of Billy. “Hey.”

Billy stared back at him blankly.

The other students began to disperse around them while Steve fidgeted. Finally, he sighed loudly, “look man, we just have to get through the next hour and a half. Can you handle a truce for that long?”

In fact, Billy had been handling a baseball bat enforced ‘truce’ with the grace of Laurence Olivier. That didn’t mean Harrington’s face didn’t piss him off, didn’t remind him of that night in the Fall where nothing made sense and violence was the only option. It didn’t mean that he had to deal with other feelings regarding Steve that were weird and deeply confusing.

“Cool, so,” Harrington threw his hands up, looking around at the cityscape. “Where do you want to go?”

“Inside.” Billy turned on his heel and began marching back towards the hotel, which thankfully was only across the street from the park.

Harrington made some kind of noise and followed after him. “What does that mean?” He asked; God he had the worst nagging mom voice. “Do you want to get food?”

“I want to go back to the hotel,” Billy said shortly. The stupid fucking traffic was heavy, and the stupid fucking crosswalk was red.

“But we’re in Chicago. I would have thought you’d be happy to be here.” Steve had his hands on his hips like he was telling Billy to wash his face and eat his vegetables.

“Happy,” Billy said disdainfully, “to be in Chicago.”

“How are you this much of a snob?”

“I’m from California.” Billy didn’t actually mean it as a joke, but Steve started laughing. He didn’t get happy looks like that very often anymore. Billy let him laugh until the light turned green.

The sour look returned. “Seriously, it’s not a city on the West coast, so you’re not even interested?”

Billy couldn’t imagine being interested in any place that wasn’t on the coast. The furthest inland he’d thought he’d ever travel was Las Vegas.

“I’d visit New York,” he said, “and New Orleans.”

“So...if it was called New Chicago you’d be interested?”

Billy had to stop, because Steve sounded completely serious. He stared at Steve, who looked totally guileless, like the fact that ‘New’ was in the two cities Billy listed was the common thread. Billy blinked several times, before he decided there was literally no answer to that.

They reached the hotel entrance and Steve opened the door for him even though he was still complaining.

“I wanted to see the Hard Rock Cafe!”

Billy snorted. He’d been to the Hard Rock Cafe in Los Angeles, it had been amazing, and any other place would be a disappointment. He pressed the arrow on the elevator a few times in quick succession, still ignoring Harrington.

If Harrington wasn’t such a goodie-goodie (sometimes) he could just leave and explore on his own. Billy didn’t bother pointing it out.

“Do you even have a room key?”

Billy tapped his pocket where the key resided and Harrington huffed. “This is my first trip to Chicago, why are you ruining it?”

The elevator doors opened and Billy stepped in. He raised his eyebrows with his finger poised over the 6 button. “Comin’ or going, Harrington?”

Harrington sighed again, wilted like he might drop deadweight onto the floor, before he stomped into the elevator and crossed his arms. “You suck.”

“You swallow,” Billy replied instinctively.

Harrington went on an impressive face journey before the meaning clicked in his head. “Gross,” he went to smack Billy’s arm.

If he hadn’t been mostly in Billy’s periphery it would have been fine. But for a moment, all Billy saw was a fist coming toward him out of a blindspot. He turned sharply, catching Harrington’s hand in a bruising grip.

Harrington stared, Billy stared back, and then the lights flickered just before the elevator jerked to a stop.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Billy threw Harrington’s hand away and slammed his hands on the door.

“Don’t, what if we fall,” Harrington edged around him and started poking at the panel. “Is there an emergency phone--oh, here it is. Billy, stop yelling!”

He didn’t hear his name from Steve a lot. It was enough to pause his yelling about how much Chicago sucked. He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the doors while Harrington talked into the phone.

When he hung up, he was chewing his lip. “They said it might be an hour.”

Billy’s jaw clenched, “no.”

“Oh great, I’ll just call ‘em up again and say you said no,” Harrington ran his hands through his ridiculously fluffy hair and looked around the small space. “If you had just come out, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“No, if this wasn’t a garbage city, with a garbage hotel, with a garbage elevator, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Why,” Harrington snapped. “Why are you like this? Why are you always this fucking negative?”

“I’m not,” Billy lied. “You just never unclench, Harrington.”

“Oh, fuck you too.”

They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, pointedly not looking at each other. Billy wasn’t a claustrophobic person, but the air felt stale now that they were stuck. He itched for a cigarette that was packed discreetly in his overnight bag in his room.

“And another thing,”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy’s head dropped back against the doors.

“No, you got me stuck here, you’re going to listen to every damn word I have to say,” Harrington had his finger up, practically wagging it. “Just call me Steve.”

“What.”

“I don’t like the last name thing. I never did. So stop it.” He fidgeted some more, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them, putting his hands on his hips and shifting from foot to foot until Billy wanted to force him to sit down.

“Fine,” Billy waited until Steve looked up at him, surprised at the acquiescence. Billy gave him a shit eating grin, “Princess.”

Steve looked annoyed. “I don’t know why I bother.”

“I don’t either,” Billy drawled. “I made my feelings about you pretty clear.” Some of them, at least.

“You made your psychosis pretty clear,” Steve muttered, “before, you know, anything happened.”

He was worse at dancing around that night than Max.

But Steve wasn’t done. He moved to the middle of the elevator, a tiny bit taller than Billy but somehow looking up at him like a petulant chinchilla with big brown eyes. “I never did anything to you,” he said.

No, he hadn’t. On Halloween he barely looked at Billy, as if being dethroned meant so little that he couldn’t offer more than a short smile before wandering off after his girlfriend. Billy had hated him for it so much. Hated him for ignoring the taunts, for practically refusing to look at him.

Showers were the worst, because etiquette was to leave a buffer spot whenever possible. Steve didn’t even care when Billy stood right beside him.

“You piss me off,” Billy said simply.

“Why?” asked the chinchilla.

Billy felt his face twitch, the way it did when his temper was acting up but he didn’t want to make a scene in front of his dad. There wasn’t an easy answer to why, how dare Steve ask it while staring at him with all the attention Billy had been craving for months.

“Why was Max at Byers’ house?” he countered. Steve’s face shutdown and it pleased Billy. He stalked forward, stepping into Steve’s space with a manic smile. “Why the fuck were you all alone in a shack with a bunch of kids, Steve.”

Steve stared over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said quietly. “And if you got mixed up in it, you’d hate me.”

Billy wanted to say, I do hate you. “Do you hate whoever got you mixed up in it?”

Steve’s face crumpled. He always looked expressive that Billy never fully realized how composed he kept his face. His nose got red when he was upset. “Not hate,” Steve looked down at his feet and sniffed. “Just, it’s hard.”

“Is it something illegal?” Billy asked, “is it a drug den?”

Steve laughed and Billy felt the air from it on his chest. “God, I wish.” He tilted his head, looking at Billy, looking over his face and Billy wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

Billy really wanted to smoke.

“Why do you hate me, Billy?” Steve asked again. “You already won, you know?”

“It’s not about winning.” Billy really fuckin’ wanted to smoke.

“So what’s it about?” Steve frowned. “I don’t get it. I even get it with Max, history there and all that, but it was like you hated me on sight.”

“Why does it matter?” Billy grabbed the stupid popped collar of Steve’s stupid preppy polo and shook him. “Why do you suddenly give a shit?”

Steve’s eyes are wide, so wide that when they jerk to the left, it’s clear that they’re looking at the bruise on Billy’s temple that was mostly hidden by his hair. Billy claimed it was a fight like normal, there was something on Steve’s face that made Billy’s stomach twist: he knew something.

Billy was frozen, trying to sort through what Steve might know. He thoughts zeroed in on Max, that little shit. It was her fault that Steve was looking at him with a soft expression. He shoved Steve away, hoping it would end the softness. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“You have a fucked up idea of what constitutes pity,” Steve barely stumbled when Billy pushed. “I just think, maybe, all things considered and since we’re here,” Steve gestured to the elevator as if Billy had forgotten where they were, “maybe you could help me understand.”

“You’re such a saint,” Billy sneered. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what you understand.”

“I was kind of an asshole before,” Steve continued. He was starting to look soft and determined, and he was moved back towards Billy. “I remember wanting to stop, and not knowing how. Max said you used to be okay.”

“Max doesn’t know shit.”

“Why do you hate me, Billy?” Steve stopped in front of him, staring at him.

Steve cared way too much about what people thought about him. By Billy’s estimate they hadn’t even been stuck for twenty minutes, and Steve was trying to go full therapist on him. No wonder Hawkins was making Max so soft, if she was hanging around this kind of guy.

Billy felt his anger under his skin, it itched and burned, and he wished he could just explode into a ball of fire because that had to be less painful then staying human shaped while feeling this way. But he couldn’t muster it up to his lips, it wouldn’t become the words he needed to shut Steve down.

“I don’t.” It was so involuntary that the words were more growl than voice.

Steve blinked again, as if he was genuinely surprised by the answer. As if Billy’s desperate ploys for his attention hadn’t been pathetically clear. Then he smiled, he had a goofy, infectious smile.

“Why was Max out there?”

“She got mixed up in something.” Everything about Steve was warm. “That was the safest place for her to be.”

Billy frowned, “trouble with cops?”

“Monsters.”

“Liar.”

Steve only smiled more, until he laughed like he couldn’t help it and dropped his head on Billy’s shoulder. “I wish,” he said around his giggles. “But shit went down. Government shit that I’m legally not supposed to talk about. I’m tired.”

His hair tickled Billy’s cheek, and it smelled nice. Billy let him stay like that while he pondered over what the answer meant. “Can you prove it?”

Steve heaved a sigh and turned his head so he was looking at Billy’s neck. “Once you know, there’s no not-knowing. No checking out either, I tried.”

For some reason, that made Billy think of Steve’s visibly dwindling relationship with Wheeler at the beginning of the year. Wheeler’s little brother had been at the house too. Wheeler, Byers, Sinclair and Max. The broken window, the bat with nails, the syringe that knocked him out.

“I beat the shit out of you,” he said absently.

“So did Jonathan.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

Steve started laughing again, and Billy was taking so much of his weight at that point, it felt natural to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve’s laughter started to come out harsher, until he was crying against Billy’s shoulder.

Panicked, Billy tried rubbing Steve’s back but it only made him shake harder. Jesus, how long had Steve been holding onto all this? For the sake of argument, Billy considered monsters and government shit, how Steve had been watching a bunch of kids all by himself, how he still sat at the lunch table with Wheeler and the guy she’d dumped Steve for. (Oh, maybe that was Jonathan.)

Maybe that was why Steve had been so quick to start opening up in the elevator. He was so desperate for someone he could actually talk to that he would even talk to Billy.

The elevator jerked again and the lights showed it was moving slowly down. Steve moved quickly, stepping back and wiping his face and in the span of ten seconds he looked like he was completely back to normal.

The doors opened on the ground floor, and a man in a coverall was waiting for them. “Sorry for the wait,” he said in a grating Chicago accent. “Dropped everything soon as I heard there were kids in there.”

Steve made polite small talk while Billy wandered out into to lobby. He stood there, hands in his pockets, until Steve came to stand next to him with a quizzical look. “I thought you wanted to go to the room.”

Billy shrugged, “I’m kinda hungry. Maybe could go for a burger.”

It took a second for a slow, hopeful look to cross Steve’s stupid chinchilla face. “Like, maybe at the Hardrock Cafe?”  

“Sure.”

Steve cheered, a little too loud for Billy’s taste, and started dragging him toward the door. Billy pointedly didn’t read into the fact that Steve didn’t drop his arm until they made it to the restaurant.

[lfthinkerwrites]

Meanwhile, back at Gotham Academy

Title: Tales from Gotham Academy: Field Trip

Fandom: Batman

Rating: T

Summary: Jason and Roy push Lyle Bolton past the point of no return...

AO3 Link

Meanwhile, back at Gotham Academy

Edward would have been happy to know that for the preceding hour and a half, Penelope had been fending off the Sirens' questions about their dating life. Unfortunately, the more wine she drank, the looser her tongue became, just as their friends intended.

"I have to ask," Pamela said. "What exactly do you see in that man? You could do much better."

Penelope poured herself more wine and gulped before answering. "You don't give him nearly enough credit," she said. "As obnoxious as he can be here, he can also be a very sweet, considerate man."

(Said 'sweet and considerate' man was at that point in time ready to throw hands with Harvey in a cheap boat, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt him.)

Pamela rolled her eyes. "Are you sure we're referring to the same Edward Nashton? He once deliberately tilted all the pictures in the art gallery on campus just because Gordon kept ignoring his riddles."

"Well, I never said he wasn't incorrigible at times," Penelope defended. "But he has his good moments too." She smiled a bit as she thought of them. "He's very supportive of my work inside and outside the campus. He takes being Ellen's full-time parent seriously. And no matter what else we might have going on, he almost always takes time out of his day to spend time with me."

"Well of course he does," Pamela drawled. "He's getting something out of those visits, isn't he?"

Penelope arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Selina snorted a bit. "Come on, Doc. You haven't heard the rumors going around school about yours and Eddie's...visits?"

Penelope flushed when she realized the implication, then she scowled. "Honestly. That was one time. Superintendent al Ghul was on the warpath and I thought there was a very good chance of him being transferred out. Nothing like that has happened since."

Pamela finished her wine, then gave Penelope a critical look. "So you mean to tell us that when Nashton sneaks off with you for your little trysts, nothing actually happens?"

"Nothing like that, no," Penelope said. "Most of the time, he just-" Penelope stopped, flushing a bit.

"He what?" Selina asked.

Penelope took another sip, then put her glass down. "Most of the time, he just wants a hug."

Pamela threw her head back and laughed, Selina and Harley joining in with their giggles while Kristen checked her phone for updates about the trip. "Aww," Harley cooed, wiping her eyes. "That's adorable!"

Penelope meanwhile crossed her arms and fixed her colleagues with a glare. "I shouldn't have said anything. Did you three invite me here just to get blackmail material on Edward?"

"Relax, Doc," Selina said. "No one's going to blackmail anyone. We're just having a bit of a fun, right girls?"

"Right-a-roonie!" Harley said, giving a thumbs up.

"Speak for yourself," Pamela said with a smirk.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Anyway, enough about my love life." She nodded at Harley. "Weren't you telling me that you were going on a date with someone you met online last week?"

Harley cringed. "Oh yeah. Floyd. Our date didn't wind up happenin'."

Selina raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't catfishing you, was he?"

"Nah," Harley said, twirling the end of her pigtail. "Nothin' like that. So we met up at the restaurant, and he was just as hot as his profile said, but just when we ordered drinks, the FBI raided the place and arrested him for murder. He took out like three agents with the wine bottle and a dinner fork before they slapped the cuffs on him." Harley took a long swig of her wine while the other women looked at each other. "I think I'm gonna take a break from men for a bit.'

"A good idea," Pamela said.

A buzzing noise came simultaneously from Kristen and Penelope's phones. Both women looked down, read the text messages, and cringed.

"What?" Selina asked.

"Karlo caused an accident on a boat ride," Kristen explained. "He rammed his boat against Neil's and caused a collision with Vice Principal Gordon's and Bruce Wayne's boat."

"Is everybody okay?" Harley asked.

"No one's hurt," Kristen said.

"Except for Karlo," Penelope interjected. "Edward just told me that he and the other teachers decided to teach Karlo a lesson about endangering the students."

Kristen nodded. "Karlo's been taken away by an ambulance, and the police were called. Needless to say, he won't be coming back to Gotham Academy."

"Sheesh," Harley said, shaking her head. "That's the third drama teacher Neil's helped drive off in six months! I wonder who the next one will be?"

Selina meanwhile, just sighed. "I warned Bruce not to go along on the trip," she said. "But did he listen? No. That man's too stubborn and noble for his own good." She smirked. "Oh well, I'll just have to help make it up for him later, as I'm sure you are with Eddie, right Doc?"

Penelope just flushed again.

Meanwhile, in Detention, Lyle Bolton was sitting at his desk with his fists clenched and his teeth grinding. "Just an hour to go, you little shits," he managed to hiss out at the three boys sitting at the desks in front of him. "I can handle anything you little punks dish out!"

Jason just pulled a straw out of his pocket, ripped a small hole at the bottom, and blew the wrapper in Bolton's direction. It landed on the desk, much to the delight of the other boys. "Nice shot, Jay!" Roy cheered.

"That does it!" Bolton shouted, standing up and pointing a meaty finger in Jason's direction. "You! Drop and give me fifty!"

Jason rolled his eyes, then did as Coach demanded. While he was doing this, Roy took advantage of Bolton's distraction to shoot a rubber band at the side of the coach's head. On impact, Bolton's head snapped towards Roy.

"You should have aimed it at his ass," Lonnie said.

"He has to have an ass to aim at," Roy quipped.

"You!" Bolton screamed, his face magenta. "Drop and give me fifty!"

"Who?" Roy asked. "Me or Lonnie?"

"Both of you!" Bolton screeched, spittle flying everywhere.

Roy dropped down, but not before giving Lonnie a wink. Lonnie grinned, then stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. "This is a violation of this school's rules against corporal punishment! If you try to force me to do push-ups, I'll have the ACLU out here so fast-"

"You'll what, little boy?" Bolton demanded, walking towards Lonnie. "You'll get Mommy and Daddy to call you a big expensive lawyer? You think that scares me, little boy?" While Bolton was busy trying and failing to intimidate Lonnie, Jason had finished his push-ups and silently made his way to Bolton's chair. He pulled a thumbtack out of his pocket and placed it on the chair, then rushed back to his desk before Bolton could turn around and notice him. Luckily, Bolton was too busy screaming to pay much attention to his surroundings. "So do your FUCKING PUSH-UPS!!!" He bellowed in Lonnie's face.

Lonnie merely looked up and said, "No."

Bolton bellowed again with rage and went back to his desk. "Non-compliance! I'm writing out another detention slip for you, Machin! Just wait until Principal Strange gets back! You're gonna get expelled if its the last thing I do!" Bolton then took a seat, directly on top of the thumbtack. He got up again with a yelp of pain, both of his hands going to his rear. "Jesus Christ! My ass! What did you punks do!?"

"What do you, he does have an ass," Roy said in between laughs. Bolton was too busy hopping up and down, trying in vain to pull the thumbtack out of his ass to do anything else.

"That's our cue, boys!" Jason yelled, getting out of his seat. "Go, go, go!" He, Roy, and Lonnie broke for the door and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Coach Bolton's office was on the far side of the campus, but it wouldn't take long for them to get to the main door and freedom.

Bolton finally pulled out the thumbtack, then let out another cry of rage. "Oh no you don't, you punks!" He went to the wall, next to the class phone and lifted a panel. Under the panel was a red button that was connected to the school's security system. Every classroom had one since they'd been installed two years ago, but no one had ever used it. Until now. "This school's goin' on LOCKDOWN!!!" Bolton screamed. Then he pressed the button. A loud, siren-like sound filled the school, and every single door was locked. Bolton laughed. Finally, he was going to get back what was his.

When the siren sounded, Harley dropped her drink in surprise. "Jeez Louise!" she shouted. She checked the bunsen burner. "Did I set off the smoke detector or somethin'?"

"That's not the fire alarm," Kristen said, her hazel eyes widening. "That's the lockdown alarm!"

"The lockdown alarm?" Selina asked. "There's what, maybe twenty kids here at most? Why the Hell are we doing a lockdown drill!? And why wouldn't Strange or Gordon tell us if we were!?"

Harley gulped. "You don't think somethin's actually happenin', do ya?"

As if it had heard her question, the PA crackled to life. "This is Coach Lyle Bolton," a deep voice sounded. "As you can see, Gotham Academy is on lockdown! And it's gonna stay on lockdown until Jason Todd, Roy Harper, and Lonnie Machin get their asses back to detention RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!" Bolton hung up the PA, leaving the five women to look at each other.

"How did I know?" Pamela seethed. "How did I know Todd was going to pull some ridiculous stunt today!?"

"Well, speakin' as a mental health professional," Harley said. "I'd say that Bolton's the one that's gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs, right Penny?"

"Right," Penelope agreed. She brought a hand up to her face. "So much for avoiding shenanigans today. How do we stop this?"

"First things first," Pamela said. "We have to get out. That door's going to be locked electronically."

"I can fix that," Kristen said, stepping forward. "I've got the override code." Kristen went to the door's panel and punched in a six-digit code. The door unlocked, allowing the women to exit the chemistry lab.

"Alright," Selina said as soon as they were in the hallway. "We need a gameplan. Kristen, Penelope, you two track down any security guards who are still here and get to the principal's office to override the lockdown school-wide so we can get the kids out. Me, Red, and Harley are going to find Jason, Roy, and Machin before Bolton can get his hands on them. Make sense?" Kristen and Penelope nodded and made a left turn down the hallway, towards the offices of the security guards. Selina then nodded towards Pamela and Harley. "Ready girls?"

"Woop Woop!" Harley shouted., pumping her fists in the air. "The Gotham Academy Sirens are on the case! Let's roll!"

[ruinedthatfriendship]

Heart Attack

A/N: I fully acknowledge that this is kind of dumb but oh well. I promised to post my old fanfics, I did not promise that they would be good. 

In which Demi writes a song, Simon has feelings, and it gets very fluffy. 

“Demi! Demi!” Marissa was holding her phone up, clearly taking a video as she tried to get her best friend’s attention. “Are you excited to get back to the X Factor?”

Demi rolled her eyes, lying down across her bed with her head propped on one hand. “No,” she returned, turning her face into a pillow to muffle a theatrical screech.

Marissa laughed and ended the video, both of the girls falling silent for several minutes as they focused on their respective phones. They’d decided to spend the day together before Demi caught a flight out to do some pre-taping for the new X Factor season. Auditions wouldn’t start for a few more months, but it was time to get things started.

Demi scrolled through her Twitter absently, noting first the number of random tweets at her about how hot she looked, and then one from Simon Cowell a few weeks ago, a picture of her sticking her tongue out in the dressing rooms captioned, “Brat”. She’d considered replying, but then thought better of it.

“It’s not fair,” she pouted, not really noticing that she’d spoken aloud.

“What’s not?” Marissa asked, sitting up fully to look at her.

Demi rolled her eyes. “I haven’t washed my hair in...like a week. I’m wearing a sweatshirt that I’m pretty sure used to be Mom’s, which she probably stole from Eddie. But I bet I could walk outside right now and get some guy to give me his number.”

Marissa huffed teasingly. “Yeah, Demi, I get it. You’re gorgeous.”

Demi lunged forward and smacked her with a pillow, earning a loud peal of laughter. “Shut up! The point is,” she emphasized with mock annoyance, “that’s all fine if I want some lame guy I don’t care about. But you put me in a room with someone I actually like and I completely turn into…” she trailed off and stuck her tongue out with a gagging noise, using her hand gesture to illustrate her brain turning to mush. “It’s pathetic!”

Marissa looked at her strangely for a few seconds. “Does this have anything to do with Simon Cowell?”

Demi’s reaction might have been comical, if she wasn’t suddenly panicked. She scrambled upright chaotically, sitting up in bed and shoving a pillow out of her way. “What?”

Marissa just shrugged. “I did watch the season, Demi. I would hope you’re aware that you definitely act a little stupid around him sometimes.”

“Jesus Christ!” Demi almost shouted. “That was not--I wasn’t talking about anyone specific! He’s an old man, Marissa! And anyway I’d like to see you do the...stupid auditions cycle and not get stupid after a while.”

Marissa was just watching her with a vaguely amused expression on her face. “Uh huh. Yep, okay, whatever you say, Dems.”

Demi laughed incredulously, hoping the heat she felt in her face wasn’t showing. “What?” she demanded, and shook her head. Nope, nope, nope. “It was a general statement, get your mind out of the gutter!”

Marissa arched a challenging eyebrow. “Sure,” she said disbelievingly, but, mercifully, dropped the subject.

It didn’t matter that her friend was right. It didn’t matter that Simon did make her stupid, that she was forever looking at him and hearing things fall out of her own mouth that she hadn’t given permission. That she’d never much felt a need to dress up for Wilmer unless they went out, but he could make her go through four or five outfits in her dressing room before shows.

It didn’t matter. Nothing could ever happen, not least because he certainly didn’t think much of her. She was a younger sibling, a daughter or niece, a pest bothering him and boosting ratings with her antics. Little brat. And he was so much older than she was. Which Demi didn’t mind whatsoever; age was just a number. But the world would flip, both of their careers could go down in flames, all for the sake of something that would probably never last. Would never start, she reminded herself firmly.

No, when it came to Simon Cowell, her walls would stay firmly up.

Demi quickly forced her brain into professional mode as her phone rang, and she stood up as she answered, walking over to her desk and looking through papers for a list she’d written a few days ago.

“Hello, Demi. Just wanted to check in,” Her producer. She was set to drop a new album soon, and they were just putting the finishing touches on the final songs. “I wanted to confirm that you’re on board with Neon Lights as the first track on the album. I know we’d talked about it, but I don’t know that we got to a consensus?”

Demi sighed, biting her bottom lip as she considered. It was a fine song, there was nothing wrong with setting it to open the album. But something about it didn’t sit right. “I am so sorry,” she sighed into the phone. “I’m gonna be a complete brat right now,” and damn Simon for creeping into her speech patterns, “but I think it needs to go farther down the track list.”

“So what do you want to start with? That’s going to be the first single we release, most likely, so…”

“Ask me tomorrow.” Demi said breathlessly, struck by a sudden inspiration.

“What? Why? If you need some time, that’s fine…”

“I’m going to write it tomorrow,” she replied with conviction that scared even her. “I’m going to write it tomorrow and record it for you when I fly back. Trust me.”

“Demi, I’m not going to say you’re not a brilliant artist, but--”

“Just let me try this! Trust me. If it doesn’t work out, you can put Made In The USA at the top, okay?”

When she got off of the phone, making a face at herself as she hung up, Marissa was staring at her. “Demi, what did you just do?”

“Something stupid,” the singer sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. And maybe it was, but she didn’t like any of her other options. She liked all of the other songs set for the album, but not enough. And she knew she could do this; more than half of them had already been written on her notepad at the judges’ table. Something about the atmosphere was...inspiring. Or someone, her brain whispered helpfully, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Marissa’s. 

***

Demi had no intention of breaking the promise she’d made to her team, but it was proving harder than she’d initially thought. Sure, she had plenty of down time on the plane, and in the makeup chair in her dressing room before she was due on the X Factor set, but her brain was stubbornly refusing to get into a song-writing headspace. She’d much rather laugh with Kelly and her makeup artist, scrolling through her phone. She liked Kelly, it was going to be a fun season sitting with her on the panel. But nothing was going to be much fun if she couldn’t figure this out.

It was like a school project, procrastinated on for too long and now with a fearsome deadline looming. She was chewing on the inside of her lip when she finally made it to the set for sound checks, taking her seat next to Simon with a pouting expression. They’d be doing a few promo shots at the judges’ desk, as well as individual backstage interviews, so they had to be lined up and in position.

“What’s wrong, brat?” he asked immediately, noticing her face.

Demi shook her head quickly. “Nothing, I’m just stuck.”

“Stuck?” he queried back, arching an eyebrow in her direction. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She shrugged back, turning away from him as a producer called her name. “Songwriting,” she hissed under her breath as one last explanation before testing out her mic for the video.

She felt Simon lean over, his arm on the back of her chair as usual, and pinch her nose with his other hand. Demi scowled at him, turning the sentence for her sound check into a nasally, “Damn it, Simon!”

She shook her head at him, taking advantage of the lack of cameras and audience watching them to jokingly flip him off. How she’d managed to survive an entire season next to this idiot, she had no idea. And now she was going to do it again.

He was kind of her best friend, sure. And they made fun of one another constantly, always in a contest to one-up the other. But she loved his stupid jokes all the same, his frankly obsessive need to touch her, the warmth of his hugs. The way he always seemed to understand her better than anyone else. She loved him, but there was no way she’d ever tell him that. They flirted, sure, and they’d had their moments, enough that her tape at the finals last year was a compilation of the two of them, but it meant nothing. Walls up, Demi.

She turned her chair slightly, looking at him. Damn it.

He chose that moment to notice her gaze, turning to look at her with an amused expression. “What?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he smirked. “You’re staring, darling.”

Demi smacked his chest, laughing, and made a point of redirecting her attention. Still, she felt a pang. I don’t want to fall for you. I don’t want to fall in love,  she thought wildly, and then, too late.

This was just a fast track to a broken heart and she knew it. I don’t need this right now.

But he was right there, whether she wanted him to be or not, and they were about to do this whole thing again for a new season. There would be no escaping, she’d definitely be sitting right up next to him again after the ratings of the past season, and some dramatic part of her wondered if her heart could take it.

Because she was Simon’s best friend, too, she was pretty sure. He had an awful habit of treating her like a sort of ‘guy best friend’, frequently regaling her with stories of his latest womanizing escapades and occasionally poking at her for advice. It made her want to scream, sometimes. I don’t want to tell you how to make that skinny, beautiful blonde fall in love with you. I want it to be me. But it’s never going to be me.

At some point, Simon had stood up and wandered off to chat with the producers, leaving Demi at the desk lost in her thoughts and Paulina on the end, similarly quiet. Demi was tracing her finger absently across her notepad, her thoughts flitting wildly between the pressure she’d put on herself to write a number-one single by tonight, and Simon. He was always in the back of her brain, and sometimes she hated him for it. Hated herself, for not being able to put up an effective wall. Or maybe it was just that nothing worked on him. He could always strip away whatever she tried to use for a front, in every situation.

You make me stupid, she thought, remembering Marissa’s words. I don’t want to fall in love with you. But he killed her every time he took her hand. Gave her some unidentified ‘glow’ her sisters had even commented on, though they hadn’t named him as a cause. Demi knew.

Why am I not good enough? I’m right in front of you…

“Demi!” A pair of familiar hands landed on her shoulders, shaking her, and Demi jumped wildly in her seat, yelping, as Simon burst out laughing behind her.

“Oh my god!”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry at all. “But you looked so focused while I was coming back over here...I couldn’t help it.” He subsided into laughter again.

Demi’s heart was still racing from the adrenaline, but she still couldn’t silence the track in the back of her brain, quietly pointing out that she loved seeing him laughing. “Damn it, Simon, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Gave me a heart attack. I’m going to have a heart attack. Heart attack.

“Demi? Demi?”

Demi blinked, shaking herself back into the present. “What?”

Simon smirked at her, turning his chair to face her on the panel. “Look, I know I’m gorgeous, but you were staring again, brat.”

Demi blinked at him, still not really listening. He’d just given her the perfect metaphor.  “Uh-huh. Hey, give me that pen!”

Startled by the non sequitur, Simon allowed her to pull the pen he was holding away from him. He watched as she uncapped it hastily and started writing something on her pad, the scrawl messy and frenzied. Putting my defense...he made out before she squealed and covered it with her hand.

“No!”

“What are you doing, brat?”

She shrugged. “Writing.”

Simon made a dive for the pad, only for her to yank it to her chest, squeaking her protests.

“Simon! Stop! It’s not ready yet.”

“What do you mean, not ready?” he demanded, laughing at her.

Her dark eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “Wait and see! It’ll be released soon, anyway.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined Simon’s eyes lighting up. “New song?” he asked her, relaxing back into his seat. “Okay, brat, I can be patient. For you.”

***

Written in one night and recorded in one take, the song dropped as a single just before they were set to start the first round of auditions. Of course, episodes wouldn’t start airing until later, and Demi imagined there would be some mention of her new album made when they cut together the packages to introduce the judges. For now, though, she was just in her dressing room backstage, getting the finishing touches to her makeup put on. Brand new season, clean slate. New talent, new groupings, and this time she wouldn’t be the first mentor out of the competition.

There was still almost a half hour before they needed to be on the set, so Demi buckled on her shoes and walked out into the hallway, finding first Kelly, and then Paulina in the green room. They made small talk for a little while to kill the time, Demi becoming more and more comfortable with the women. It was going to be fun working with them, she thought. They’d certainly make for an exciting panel.

“Where’s Simon?” Kelly asked suddenly. “He should be here.”

“In his dressing room, I think,” Paulina replied in her accented voice. “I can--”

“I’ll go get him,” Demi offered quickly, not entirely sure why she’d just spoken. Barriers, Demi. Or not.

She didn’t notice the look her two fellow judges shared as she stood and made her way out of the green room, involuntarily smoothing imaginary lint off of her dress. She knocked a few times on his door, getting no response. She could hear something getting knocked over inside, though, and figured she may as well let herself in.

Simon didn’t notice her at first. His back was to her, righting a water bottle on his desk, and he was wearing a pair of headphones.

“Simon!” she called loudly, finally forcing him to turn around. Laughing at him a little, she pointed to his phone. “What were you listening to?” Her eyebrows waggled, suggestively teasing. 

“Nothing,” he returned quickly, sliding the headphones off and standing, a bit hastily, Demi thought. “What do you need, brat?”

Demi pouted at him. “Now you have to tell me!”

“No,” Simon returned briskly. “Now--Demi!”

She made a dive toward him for his phone, still laughing, and pouted helplessly when he held it above her head. “But Simon, I’m short.”

“Precisely.” He said dryly. “And nosy. And gobby. And--”

She jumped, grabbing at his arm and stealing the phone before he could react.

“Demi!” he groaned in dismay, his hand dropping to his side as he watched her with his cell phone in her hands. 

She turned it on, suddenly not quite sure what to do with the information confronting her. Simon stood in front of her almost awkwardly, crossing his arms over his chest, while she blinked rapidly at his phone in her hands. “Aw, Simon. You were listening to my music?”

He shrugged, holding his hand out for the phone. “That’s your new single, isn’t it? I do have to keep on top of these things.”

“Uh-huh.” Demi nodded, relinquishing the phone back to him. “Well? Worth the wait?”

He looked puzzled for a moment, before his expression cleared. “Oh, was that what you were writing at the promo taping? After…” he trailed off suddenly.

“After what?” Demi prompted, curious again. “After what, Simon?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head abruptly.

“Simon,” Demi countered sternly. “Come on, tell me!”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her, almost calculating. She shifted nervously under his gaze, trying to guess at what he was thinking. He looked like he was debating something, mixed with a glimmer of...hope? Demi wondered suddenly if he’d managed to arrive at the conclusion that she’d written it about him, nerves twisting her stomach. God, she hoped not. The inevitable polite rejection would be horrifyingly awkward.

“After I scared you,” he murmured, looking suddenly uncertain and somehow smaller than the Simon Cowell she was familiar with. “And you said…”

She could hear her own voice echoing in her head, sounding far-off like an old playback tape. Damn it, Simon, you almost gave me a heart attack! Demi raised an eyebrow. She should have known he’d figure her out. Still, she wasn’t going to help him toward the painful conclusion.

“This is stupid,” Simon muttered suddenly, turning away from her with his hands on his hips. “Was someone looking for me? Is that why you came in here?”

Demi blinked. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. And he sounded hurt, somehow, and it was breaking her heart. And even if she was about to help him break it further, she couldn’t let it go. Not now. “What’s stupid? I don’t know what you mean.”

Simon huffed and rolled his eyes, walking to the door. “Forget about it, brat.”

“No!” she burst out, planting her feet and standing obstinately in the middle of his dressing room. “You can’t just leave. Come on, Simon, tell me what you were going to say!”

“Actually I can, darling,” he returned, amused. “It’s my dressing room.” And with that, the obstinate British judge left her standing alone in the middle of the room.

***

“Do you live alone?” Simon was asking an unfortunately tone deaf contestant. “No one around to tell you to stop?”

“Simon!” Demi hissed in reprimand, but it was half hearted. Not only was he right, but she was preoccupied. She wasn’t going to let him get away with just shutting her out, and if she had to revert to elementary school note passing, so be it.

She slipped a sheet of her notepad under the edge of his hand, meeting his eyes with a shrug while the contestant slinked off in defeat. What were you going to say????

“Never you mind, brat,” he muttered back.

She turned her chair to face him, stubbornly staring at him. “I’m not going to let it go, Simon, you know that. I will make your life hell until you just tell me… oh, seriously, Simon! It’s obviously bothering you, come on, talk to me!”

“Fine,” he said briskly, turning back to her with a completely closed off expression. “Here you go, Demi: what inspired you to write that song? And now will you forget about it?”

Insecurity. All at once, she had a name for the unreadable expression that was always flashing across his face. Doubt, like he didn’t know what she was doing with him any more than she knew why he bothered with her.

And it gave her enough of a fool’s hope to lean over toward him again while they waited for the next contestant to enter the stage. Beside her, Kelly was giving her a strange look, but Demi ignored her. She had her hands braced, one on the desk and one on the back of Simon’s chair, and put her lips next to his ear. “I wrote it for you,” she whispered, feeling her heart racing in her throat as she made her confession.

Her own insecurities were wiped away in an instant, Simon turning to face her so quickly that he almost hit her head. He was wearing one of the brightest smiles she’d ever seen on his face, and she gave up on nervously biting her lips to return the gesture. “Really?” he whispered back to her, completely ignoring the woman on stage answering Paulina’s questions.

Demi gestured pointedly with her head to the stage once, but nodded at him once more before refocusing her attentions, still wearing a brilliant smile. Nothing was properly set yet, but it was a start. And when Simon carefully took her hand under the table, carrying on his critiques smoothly all the while, she knew her split-second decision to rewrite the single had been worth it.

And when she opened her phone later to a text from Marissa, it was a link to a slightly-blurry photo of the two of them, smiling at each other stupidly, making very obvious heart eyes at one another. Girl, what did you do?????????

Damn. She’d completely forgotten how many eyes, and cell phone cameras, would have been on them all day. .

Sitting on the couch in Simon’s dressing room, heels kicked off and waiting for him so they could leave together, she smiled again. Something stupid, she texted back first, as per the old joke. Then, but worth it.

[thesunlightout]

and i never saw you coming and i’ll never be the same...

“Hold the doors!”

The shout nearly scared Fiona half to death, and she almost jumped out of her skin as she looked up and reacted to hold open the elevator doors.

She’d been flying for hours tonight, and desperately wanted to get to her hotel room to sleep off the long day she’d had. Despite her initial excitement on making it to Canada, the length of the flight and the two layovers thanks to snowstorms had her wanting to kick herself or keel over or some weird combination of the two.

“Thanks,” the guy said rearranging his suitcase in front of him before pressing the button to his floor.

“Sure,” she nodded, leaning back against the wall with a yawn. She rubbed her eyes under the frames of her glasses. She picked up her phone and shot her dad, Waverly, and Andi each a text, letting him know she’d finally checked into the hotel for the night.

Fiona was probably the weirdest person in the world for taking a winter vacation by herself. However, in her defense, she hadn’t actively planned to take this trip alone. She’d planned to take it with Tyler, the guy she thought she might be with forever.

They were supposed to come here, celebrate their anniversary and winter break. They’d learn to ski, and probably fall on her ass a couple of times, and then they’d end up in the hot tub late at night, and it’d be the perfect vacation.

And then he dumped her, spewing some ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit, and then ghosted her.

Charmer, this ‘forever’ guy, thus, pronouncing the last year of her life a goddamn waste.

Lovely.

She was tired, both from flying and from being blindsided by the breakup. She could’ve canceled the trip altogether, gotten her share of the money back and just stayed home. But if she was being completely honest, part of her really didn’t want to explain to her family that she’d just been dumped.

Her dad and stepmom would try and hover, and Waverly would probably offer to threaten Tyler. She’s lucky Andi’s out of town with Sophie and her family, otherwise she’d be another worry.

Fiona figured she could fill them all in come the new year.

“Did the lights just flicker?” the guy beside her asked, drawing her away from her thoughts and her laser focus on her exhaustion. She tilted her head upward, glancing up at the lights which do, in fact, flicker once more.

“It’s probably nothing,” she commented, hoping she was right. She looked to the numbers on the panel to make sure they were still moving, and just as she did, the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the sudden shake nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Oh, fuck…”

The guy set his own bag down in the corner before walking over to the elevator buttons near the door. “Uh… I think it stopped?” He pushed the bell button and waited for some sort of response.

“Crap,” Fiona whined, walking up behind him to see the stopped screen. She noticed the whirring mechanical sounds had stopped, too. “This is the last thing I needed tonight.”

“Hello?” A voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, hi, uh, the elevator just stopped? It seems to be stuck on the third floor,” he said.

“Sorry about that, sir. Are you alone?”

“No, there’s a woman in here, too,” he said, looking back at her. Fiona pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and folded her arms.

“I’m seeing in my system that there seems to be an electrical problem. We’ve lost power in some areas of the resort. I’m getting a technician to check out the controls and we should get you moving in just a bit. I am so sorry for the inconvenience!”

A crackling sound came through the microphone before the sound died, and soon after, the lights.

Fuck.

“And the power’s out. Great.”

Fiona sighed heavily, reaching for her phone in her pocket and turning on the flashlight. “And a phenomenal week continues. Jesus fucking Christ,” she scoffed, and made her way toward the back wall.

Thankfully, the elevator was spacious enough they wouldn’t completely on top of one another, but stuck in a confined space with a stranger wasn’t exactly the start to her vacation she was expecting.

The room got significantly brighter a second later, and she realized he turned on his own flashlight. “Hopefully it isn’t off for long,” he told her, opting to sit on the floor next to his suitcase.

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

“Eli, by the way.”

“Hm?” She looked up from her phone and over at him.

“If we’re gonna sit in here in the dark for however long, you should at least know my name,” he told her. “Eli.”

“Oh. I’m Fiona,” she motioned to herself, deciding to take a seat on the floor, too.

____

See the thing was, Fiona would never tell this story beyond that beginning. She’ll talk about the time she got stuck in an elevator in Canada for a solid four, and leave out all the details.

It was mostly because what happened that day and that week would forever feel sacred to her somehow and touching it or tainting it felt like the worst thing she could ever do. Plus, she’d thought she’d never see him again.

Funny how fate had a way of working.

“So, Fiona…” Eli said a few minutes of silence later. “Where are you from?” He’d put his phone down on the floor beside him, bottom up so the light could shine the space between them. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

She looked up from her phone and opted to put hers down as well. It’d be useless to her if it was dead after all. And who knew how long they’d be in there. “You’re a perfect stranger; You really think I’m gonna tell a random guy in an elevator where I’m from?” she asked, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

Eli smiled, and Fiona couldn’t help but notice how nice it was. Boyish almost, with a hint of mischief she couldn’t quite place. He was cute, that she couldn’t deny. “That’s fair,” he nodded. “I could be a murderer after all.”

“Exactly. Would you tell me, also a stranger, where you’re from?” she asked, brow raised almost defiantly.

“San Francisco,” he said easily, shifting some and leaning back against the wall. “Bay Area, specifically.”

“See, now I think you’re just trying to get me to trust you. Offering me a piece of yourself so I get comfortable, and then tomorrow I’m in the news.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly my angle, straight up murder.”

“I knew it!” Fiona grinned and shook her head. She mulled it over another second and figured if anything was wrong, it would’ve gone wrong by now, and she probably wouldn’t see him again once they got out of there. “New York.”

“The city that never sleeps, huh?”

“The very same,” she answered, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankles.

“My sister’s living there now. She goes to NYU. Art student.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Scout’s honor. Though not a boy scout. My dad was against it,” he chuckled.

“Who’s against the boy scouts? They’re like… cute?”

“My dad, apparently.”

She snorted. Honest to god snorted. “See, maybe if he hadn’t been against it, you wouldn’t be trying to murder girls in Canadian elevators.”

“Yeah, maybe. But see, since he was against it, I now get to be a documentary someday. That’s my legacy. The dude who murdered girls in elevators. Planned snowstorms and power outages and everything.”

Fiona through her head back, laughter bubbling out of her. “Oh my god. This is so morbid, why are we having this conversation?”

He was a stranger, a perfect stranger, and yet? Talking to him felt so easy. That was what struck her. They’d been talking for all of maybe five minutes, and though it should feel strange, it felt… fine. Right, almost?

“You’re the one talking about murder, I just asked where you were from,” Eli chuckled.

“Hey,” Fiona held her hands up in surrender. “It’s a wild world the one we live in. Can’t take my chances. And you were the one who brought up murder, thank you very much.”

“Fair point, fair point.”

She yawned, reaching up to rub her eyes under her glasses. The exhaustion was getting her almost to the point of delusion, and if the stupid elevator techs didn’t get here soon, she was probably gonna sue. Or well, she wouldn’t, but Waverly or Quincy would probably want to try.

Picking up her phone again, she glanced at the time. Pushing midnight. She could die right here on this elevator. God.

“Are you here by yourself?” She set her phone back down a little farther away to give them more light.

Eli reached for the zipper of the coat he was wearing, tugging it down some. “Yeah, for now. My sister’s coming up later in the week, actually. She’s supposed to meet me for New Year’s Eve,” he told her. “I opted to come earlier because the holidays were such an adventure this year,” he added dryly.

“Bad Christmas?”

“Not exactly, just… a breakup thrown into the mix.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re stalking me.”

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“This is like the cliché of clichés.”

“What are you talking about, you weirdo?”

“I just got dumped. Literally, like yesterday,” Fiona said.

“Dumped? Ouch…”

She sat up a little taller to compose herself. “Well, not dumped, per se, but…”

Eli smirked. “Dumped.”

Fiona sighed. “Dumped. ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ and all.”

His grin turned more into a sad smile, and her heart did a weird skip, one she shouldn’t have felt this quickly into a breakup. “I’m sorry to hear that. You seem kinda great.”

“Oh, don’t butter me up,” she pouted, before adding quietly, “Thanks.” She tugged off a small piece of lint. “I get to have this whole trip to myself so…” she shrugged. “Did you get dumped?”

He laughed, catching her slightly off guard. “Will that make you feel better?”

“…yes.”

“Well, I did. Except she kinda met someone new.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Tell me about it.”

The beat of silence that followed was slightly heavier than the one before, this time carrying the weight of two people who were clearly blindsided by the ends of their relationships. At least they had that to share inside these four walls with no sign of going anywhere.

“What are the odds that we have both gotten dumped in the last few days, we’re both on a trip to Canada, we’re both stuck in the same elevator, during the same storm at the exact same time?” Fiona asked, because seriously, what were the fucking odds? This was like something out of a movie.

“I failed stats before I decided math wasn’t for me,” Eli said. “So I can’t tell you the exact odds, but I can tell you that it’s probably more likely to be struck by lightning. Maybe twice.”

“One in a billion, we’ll say.”

“For argument’s sake.”

“You have dimples.” Hour two of being stuck in the elevator had them both coatless, and a very exhausted Fiona had lost her shoes.

(“My feet don’t usually stink, but if they do, I’m sorry. I’m just in pain.”

To which he just said, “It’s fine, I’ll just mock you mercilessly,” before pulling her feet onto his lap.

“Ew, wait, are you a feet guy?”

“I can assure you we’d be having a very different conversation right now if I were.”)

They were both exhausted, and bordering delirium, and apparently, while his travel hadn’t been as tumultuous as hers, he’d spent most of the day running around on very little sleep and it was all trying to catch up with him.

Hence the unexpected closeness with a stranger.

“Are you just now noticing that I have dimples?” Fiona practically side eyed him. “We’ve been in here like two hours, dude. They’re like holes in my face.”

“First of all, calm down,” Eli tugged at the bottom of her jeans. “Second, it’s like pitch black in here.”

She held up their phones. “Flashlights!”

“The real reason is you probably would’ve accused me of trying to murder and/or stalk you if I brought it up too soon.”

“Ah, so you were just biding your time.”

“Of course.”

“I do have dimples,” she said finally, lip quirking just enough to show them off.

“They’re cute.”

By hour three, Eli’s phone had given up on them, and Fiona’s was hanging on by a thread. They were both lying side by side on the floor now, using their coats for support. Eli had lost his shoes, too, (“Okay, your feet totally stink.”) and Fiona had opted to play some soft music on her phone above their heads. Screw the last bit of light at this point.

“Eli!” she gasped loudly, sitting up so quickly her head spun.

“What? What is it?” He’d dozed off and startled at being awoken so suddenly.

“I have chocolate!” She reached for her backpack, forgotten at their feet with the suitcases, and grabbed the lone Snickers bar she’d purchased when she got off the plane. Thank goodness.

He exhaled, settling some after that. “Did you have to give me a heart attack?”

“Yes, because you’re not falling asleep and leaving me here alone.” She opened up the wrapper and tore the bar in half, holding it out to him.

“Thanks, dimples,” he said, sitting up beside her. “And you could’ve just napped, too.”

“No, I’m too tired which just makes me wired.”

He snorted before taking a bite. “That rhymed.”

She laughed. “I’m a poet.”

“Are you though?”

“Not even a little bit.” She took a bite of her own half and they chewed in silence, before she reached into her bag for a water bottle. “Are you a germophobe?”

“I’m lying on the floor of an elevator, what do you think?”

“I think we’re a little past that.” She took a sip and then handed the bottle to him. “If you give me mono, I’ll hunt you down.”

“If you knock me out right now, I’d probably kiss you in gratitude.” He took a sip.

“Don’t tempt me; I’ve got a mean right hook.”

He smirked again, and her heart fluttered. Delirium was no goddamn joke. “Tell me a secret.”

“What?”

“A secret. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” he said, setting down the water bottle between them.

Fiona glanced over at him, and for the first time that night, it struck her just how blue his eyes were. They’d lost the light from his phone, and hers was dimmer thanks to the loss of battery life from the music they were playing. They were bright, but also soft… almost perfect.

“I love this song,” she commented, looking at her phone. Yellow – Coldplay

Eli followed her line of sight and nodded. “It’s an amazing song,” he looked to her. “But I’m pretty sure I’m not the first person you’ve told that to.”

She smiled. “Yeah,” she huffed, tugging off her glasses and slipping the leg into the scooped neckline of her shirt. “Fine, you go first.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, mulling over a bunch of things. She could see it in his face when he settled on one thing.

“I know for a fact I’d still want kiss you even if you didn’t knock me out,” he said simply, taking another bite of his chocolate.

By hour four, Fiona’s phone had died completely, and they were both fast asleep. Her head had found home on his chest, and Eli’s arm had wrapped tightly around her shoulder, and it felt as though they’d been doing it forever. That was the feeling she’d be shoved back to four years later when she saw him again.

But she didn’t know that then. Had no idea, in fact.

The lights of the elevator came on first, startling them both half to death, and drawing them slightly closer because of it.

“Folks, we are incredibly sorry for the inconvenience. Your elevator was stuck in between floors three and four, and we were unable to get in there to get you out. But thankfully the power has returned and we’ll be shooting you up to your designated floors. Once again, we apologize for the inconvenience. Please be sure to head down to the front desk concierge in the morning. We will issue a voucher for the rest of your stay and a refund for two nights.”

“Lucky us.” Fiona yawned, slowly scooting away from him and sitting up. She rubbed her very tired eyes and stretched, bones cracking almost a little too loudly.

“You got rocks in there?” Eli asked as he sat up, reaching for his shoes.

“After tonight? Probably,” she snorted, grabbing her glasses from her shirt and putting them back on. “These lights are so fucking bright.”

Eli stood and held his hand out to her, helping her up off the floor. She grabbed both their coats and they moved seamlessly about the elevator, grabbing their things and closing their bags. Just as she went to lean against the wall, the car finally started moving back upward.

“I’ve never been happier to be in a moving elevator? I feel like I could cry?”

“Tomorrow we’re taking the stairs.”

Fiona nodded absently, completely ignoring the implications of that we and accepting it as truth. They made it to her floor first, both severely running on empty and he opted to walk her to her room. “It’s the least I could do after the night we’ve had. And I’m just the next floor up,” he told her.

She didn’t have it in her to argue, instead slipping her arm through his as they stepped off the elevator, and tilting her head onto her shoulder. “Wherever 525 is,” she said, dragging her feet.

They stumbled some on their way down the hall, and to anyone looking, they appeared more drunk than anything else. The window at the end of it showed the sky getting slightly lighter as hints of morning began to peak through. It hit her that they were really in an elevator for four hours.

“Thank you for walking me,” she said, leaning back against her door as she reached for her keycard in her coat pocket.

Eli smiled, and in proper light, it really was gorgeous. God, she was fucked. “Thanks for a good time in the elevator.”

She snorted. “Now it sounds like we were having sex in an elevator. Please don’t say that in front of people.”

He laughed out loud. “There’s nobody here!”

“Shh.”

He grinned again and shook his head. “Listen, one more thing before I go.”

“What’s up?”

“You never told me your secret.”

“What?”

“Your secret. Come on, humor me, dimples, I’m dead on my feet.”

And maybe it was the over exhaustion, maybe it was the ache in her neck and back, maybe it was a combination of the insane night she’d just had, but without even thinking about it, she stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his. Her hand came up to lightly cup his cheek before she pulled away.

“Good enough secret?” she asked, thumb running over his cheek.

“The best, by far,” he said, bowing his head, lips meeting hers a second later.

The best indeed, considering she never told anyone. She wasn’t trying to lie, but it was the whole sacred thing. This thing felt… like lightning striking once, sacred, a miracle. It sounded dramatic, and at the time she had no idea, but it changed something in her.

“Stay,” she whispered sleepily, nose still pressed against his. “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly and she swiped the keycard, both of them spilling into her room.

[nomadstevergxrs]

My Valentine

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 2,175

Summary: The reader and Chris have been friends for a long time. Chris gets invited on a triple date for Valentine’s Day and without wanting to be a third wheel, he tries to convince the reader to come with him even though she hates the holiday. 

Author’s Note: I wanna thank @mrs-squirrel-chester for being an awesome beta. I am absolutely the worst person ever! I meant to put this out last week (i.e. Valentine’s Day) but due to writer’s block I wasn’t able to do so. Call me Jean-Ralphio cause I’m

Warnings: None just tons and tons of Fluff... Oh and Chris being a total meatball (Should that be a warning?)

Tagging: @ariallane @heather-lynn @always-an-evans-addict @mrs-squirrel-chester @bionic-buckyb @sebbytrash @marvel-ash anyone who wants in or out of the taglist please let me know! 

Gifs not mine

You heard your phone go off in your purse as you opened the trunk to your car. Setting it inside your trunk, you dug through your purse, finally pulling out your phone and saw Chris’ name flash on your screen.

“Hey Chris.” You answered, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder, grabbing your gym bag.

“Y/N!” He shouted. “I've called you three times already! What were you doing?” He sounded urgent.

“I was driving Christopher.” You deadpanned, swinging your gym bag over your other shoulder and slammed trunk shut. “Everything okay?” You asked.

“Everything’s fine.” He answered, “Are you home?”

“Yes Chris I just got home why?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“Oh good, cause I'm inside waiting for you.” He said.

“What?” You looked up and saw Chris at your window and waving at you with a huge grin on his face.

“Motherfu-” You quickly hang up and jog over to your front door.

He opened the door for you, and moved out of the way to let you in, “Remind me to take your key away next time.” You grumbled, tossing your gym bag on the couch.

“You know you love me Y/N/N.” Chris laughed pulling you into a hug.

“Debatable.” You snarked off, pushing him away. He placed his hand on his broad chest in feigned hurt. “Rude.”

“You sounded urgent on the phone. What's going on?” You asked, grabbing the bottle of beer he offered you before taking a seat on your couch, then motioning him to do the same.

He sat down across from you and took off his NASA cap, “Right. I need you to do me a huge favor.” He said, scratching his thick beard.

“Okay?” You cocked your head to the side, “What’s up?”

“So you remember Sebastian and Anthony right?”

“Of course.” You answered.

“Well, tomorrow they're going on a double date with their wives an-”

“No.” You said getting up from the couch, “No. No. Hell no!” You furiously shook your head.

“Aw come on Y/N/N!” Chris got up from the couch.

“No.” You answered.

“But it's Valentine's Day.” He tried to explain, but you shook your head.

“You know how I feel about Valentine's Day, Evans.” You growled.

“Look Y/N, I'm begging you.” He he said taking a step closer to you, taking your hands in his, “They’re always giving me shit, and I don't want to feel like the third wheel with them.”

You pulled away from him and sighed.

“Please?” He begged, bright blue eyes boring into Y/E/C eyes.

“Dammit! I hate when you do that stupid puppy dog look.” You replied begrudgingly.

“Fine.” You threw your hands up in defeat, “I'll do it, but you owe me big time.”

“Yes!” Chris shouted as he charged towards you, pulling you into a bear hug and spun you around. “You're the best Y/N/N!” He said with a big smile as he set you down.

“I'm only going because you begged me and free food.” You giggled.

“Wouldn't want it any other way doll.” He chuckled, “Speaking of food…” Chris trailed off, “Is there any food here?”

You snorted, “You want to order take-out?”

“Sure.”

After Chris left, you had taken both of your leftovers and placed them in the refrigerator.

What did you get yourself into? You thought to yourself as you laid your head against the freezer door.

You and Chris met back in 2012 at a nightclub in Boston when he drunkenly bumped into you, spilling his beer all over your dress.

You smiled at the memory. Chris apologizing over and over until you were sick of it. He made up for it by letting you use his flannel to cover up the embarrassing stain on your dress that made it look like you wet yourself, then afterwards, he took you to a nearby diner. The two of you talked for hours. You talked about everything from music to family to even astronomy.

To be honest, you slowly started falling for Chris. Sure he looks like a typical frat boy, but he's so much more to him than meets the eye. But in typical fashion you decided to keep quiet about it. He only sees you as a friend. Nothing more. You told yourself, finishing cleaning your kitchen and heading straight to bed.

You had been texting Chris all day about where you were going. Not that you cared. Just like you told him before, It’s just a date as friends, nothing else. And yet, you couldn't help but feel the butterflies in your stomach.

You heard your phone buzz on the nightstand, walking over, you picked it up and saw that you had a new message from Chris.

“You ready for the big day?” The text read along with a smiley emoji he sent.

You swiped your thumb across the screen, “Hell No! I’m still mad you convinced me to go with you.” You sent back.

You set your phone back on the nightstand and headed into your closet, picking out a few clothes for the evening.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone and sent Chris a quick text, “What should I wear?”

Before you had the chance to toss your phone on the bed, he sent another text, “Uh clothes? Lol”

“No shit Sherlock.” You texted back, “I meant if I should wear a dress or some jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Whatever you want.” You could practically hear that thick Bostonian accent on the other end of this conversation, “I’m picking you up in about an hour.”  He messaged back.

You tossed your phone on the bed, and picked up the two dresses. One of the dresses was a black cocktail dress with long sleeves that were made of lace. The other, was a short red sleeveless dress covered in lace with a sheer panel under the bust.

“Red? Or black?” You said out loud as you held the black dress over your body, then did the same with the other and after five minutes of debating, you finally settled for the red dress and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you quickly rushed in adding finishing touch ups for your hair and makeup.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time to check that everything was in order. Satisfied with the way you looked, you grabbed your clutch and phone and headed down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ Christopher lay off the doorbell will ya?!” You shouted as the continuous noise of your doorbell continued.

You swung the door open and you felt your jaw drop just at the sight of your date standing before you.

“Wow!” Chris said, staring at you in awe for a moment, “Y/N look beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks get hot, “Thank you.” answered back shyly, “You look great.”

“Thanks, I uh.. I got you these.” He said, pulling a bouquet of roses from his back and handing them to you.

“They're beautiful Chris! Thank you.” You replied, taking the bouquet in your hands, “Do you want to come inside?” You asked.

He nodded and followed you into your house and laid back on the couch while you headed into the kitchen to put the roses in a vase.

“Are we meeting everyone at the restaurant?” You called out as you filled the glass vase with water.

“Yeah. I just got a text from Seb that they were gonna meet us there.” Chris answered, looking at himself in the mirror you had hanging next to your door and adjusting his dark wash denim button up.

“Okay.” You said, putting on your left stiletto heel, “Let’s go.”

“Have you heard anything from them?” You asked Chris , taking a sip from your glass of red wine.

Chris pulled out his phone to check for messages, “Looks like Anthony’s mother in law came in for a surprise visit.” He said as he continued to look through his phone, “And it looks like Seb got food poisoning.”

“Well that sucks. I hope Sebastian feels better.”

He put his phone away and sighed, “Fuck, I'm sorry Y/N.”

“Why?” You asked in concern, “It's not your fault. Things happen sometimes ya know?”

“Yeah. You're right.” Chris replied.

“So why don't we enjoy this date shall we?” You said with a smile, “Because honestly? I shaved my legs for this and I'm am not letting today go to waste.”

Chris nearly spat out his drink at your comment.

“You okay there Evans?” You asked, reaching over and handing him a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“Yeah,” He coughed, “Just caught me off guard that’s all.”

Looking out the window, you watched the sun slowly lower into the horizon, “It’s beautiful isn't it?”  

“Yeah, it is.” He replied, not bothering to look at the beautiful skyline but instead he looked at you, “Do you... Want to get out of here?”

You turned back and looked into those baby blue eyes, feeling the butterflies in your stomach again, “Sure.”

“You know, for someone who doesn't like Valentine's Day, you sure did dress for the occasion.” Chris teased as you both walked along the Santa Monica pier.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

Chris pointed at your dress and you looked down, realizing the color of the dress.

“Shut up.” You said, slapping his arm, “I thought it was a really nice dress. That just happened to be red.”

You continued to walk along the pier, watching the sunset and the lights on the rides begin to light up. Leaning over the rail, you laid your head oh his arm and watched the sky change from an orange purplish hue to a darker, almost pitch black sky.

“Y/N?” You heard Chris say after a brief pause of enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Hmm?” You looked up into his blue eyes, shining brighter from the lights from the rides.

“I uh…” He trailed off, not sure of what to say.

“You what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He rose his arm and scratched the back of his head, “I uh… kinda have a confession to make.” He said softly.

“Oh?” You said, not really sure of what to say but you let him continue.

“I…” He looked pensive for a moment, trying to put together everything he had to say.

“I lied.” He finally confessed, taking your right hand in his left hand, “About Seb and Anthony coming to dinner. They were never going to show up.”

“Why?” You let out a squeak, still a bit in shock at his confession.

Chris told you everything so it came as a shock to hear that he lied to you.

“Why?” You asked.

His stuck his right hand into his pocket for a moment, pulled out a small candy heart and placed it on the palm of your hand.

You looked up at him quizzically, “Look at the message.” Chris whispered.

Looking back down at your hand, your eyes went wide at the message that read, I love you.

“Y/N?” Chris called out to you, the nerves taking over him, “Say something. Please?”

“H..how long?” You finally found your voice to speak, Tears threatening to form around your Y/E/C eyes.

“Since I met you.” He answered, taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

“I don’t understand. Why me?” You asked, feeling a tear fall down your cheek.

He took his thumb and gently brushed the tear from your face and a small smile spread across his lips, “Simple. Because you’re you.”

You rose an eyebrow at him, signaling him to continue, “Ya know, when we were at that diner all those years ago and we talked until four in the morning, it was the deepest connection that I've had with anyone in a long time. You spoke with so much passion about everything, that I couldn't help but to fall for you.” He spoke with sincerity, “And I know you've been hurt before but if you give me the opportunity,  I swear I will make you the happiest woman in the world.”

The walls you tried so hard to build up around yourself had crumbled down at your feet and now you felt vulnerable. You closed eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before suddenly wrapping your arms around Chris’ neck and crashed your lips against his, taking him by surprise. As cliché as it sounded, you could've sworn you saw sparks fly as his lips molded perfectly over yours.

You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer as you felt him trap your bottom lip with his teeth and pulled back gently, feeling the roughness of his beard against your soft skin. Needing a bit of air, you finally pulled away from him and smiled, “I love you too Chris.”

“So? What do you say?” Chris asked as he took the candy heart from you and popped in his mouth, “Will you be my valentine?”

[houseofdemi-blog]

Eighth Floor

Summary: He hates elevators and his annoying next door neighboor. His annoying but extremely attractive next door neighbor.

Genre: Romance.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader 

Rating: Mature (smut)

Length: 3.4k

A/N: idk i wrote this the other day out of sudden so whatever 

It's a well known fact Kim Namjoon hates elevators.

He hates places with only one exit. He hates the lack of air when he enters a small room. He hates it even more when it's full of people. Full meaning two or three people. He always avoids entering an elevator if he can't count on half of the fingers of his hand how many people are in there. He hates small talk and useless conversations about the wheather. He hates the metal walls surrounding him and the mirror behind him -his rejection might have to do with the braces his parents made him wear and the number or mirrors he broke when he was a child. He hates waiting for the panel on the wall to reach his floor while the the same stupidly ear-piercing tune in the background fills the silence.

He just really fucking hates elevators.

“Hold the door!”

He hates elevators and his annoying next door neighboor. His annoying but extremely attractive next door neighbor.

Namjoon doesn't have time for this. He had burned his tongue by trying to calm his anxiety drinking some coffee that morning, he had to fire two of his workers after finding out they were hooking up occasionally in the photocopy rooms, and Saturdays are the days he usually leaves work early, but he had to stay in longer to fill some unfinished papers. Namjoon is tired and the last thing he wants to do is deal with the main cause he can't get enough sleep at night and is sexually frustrated. You're polar opposites, and the wave of heat in the pitch of his stomach everytime he spots you cannot compete with the amount of irritation you're able to stir inside of him. He erased the idea of being sexually involed with you when the biggest bunch of obsceneties he'd ever heard in his life left your mouth the first time he saw you moving in next to his apartment.

The moment the hears the familiar voice -too familiar for his liking-, his throat shuts, his whole body tenses up and the hand free of holding his briefcase flies to the panel to try to hit the “Close doors” button as fast as he can.

But it's in vain.

Your hand is already between the closing doors, stopping it in it's tracks and they slide back open, completely exposing your disvehled appearence to him.

It wasn't your fault though. It wasn't your fault it had been raining all day so your hair was the messiest and wettest it had been in a while, it wasn't your fault your heel broke while you were in the middle of crossing the street and it definitely wasn't your fault Youngjae, the too kind but too new waiter at the bar you worked at dropped a blue toned beverage all over you. Your only fault was deciding to wear a white shirt to work that day.

You step in, pulling your messy hair back and sighing in relief after finally catching your breath. He wonders how you manage to look good even now.

“What's up, Joonie?” you smile, voice still a bit breathy and sarcasm dripping from your lips as you eye your neighbor up and down.

The black suit fit his firm composured body like a globe, a neat navy blue tie wrapped around his neck and, following up the veins on his skin, your eyes catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw as he looks right ahead through thick rimmed glasses, practically not acknowledging your existence.

Your smile intensifies when he doesn't try to hide the bothered tone of his voice in the way he mutters 'Hello'.

Yeah, Kim Namjoon definitely doesn't like you.

It's not a secret. Everyone in the building knows he cannot stand your guts. It's obvious by the way he looks at you over his shoulder, always scanning your appearence looking for faults to criticize inside his head. His judgemental self always wondering how a mere waitress like you could afford living in such an expensive area. It's also obvious in the way he looks at your dog, since pets were not allowed in the building. But you had not so subtly flirted with the president of the Neighborhood Association to convince him to allow you to keep Max. And Namjoon had to face the consequences because he had always been a cat person. It's also obvious with the way he slams his fist on the wall when you play music from the stereo or you bring someone to stay the night -you always made sure to be especially loud if he was home, knowing very well your bedroom was right next to his and the exact hour he had to wake up to go to work-.

But to be fair, you don't like Kim Namjoon either, so it's all good.

He sure is good-looking. A tall and well built man wearing a different suit every single day, with light blonde hair always perfectly styled back, incredebly plump lips and brown eyes as deep and dark as his voice? Hell, saying your neighbor is good-looking is the understatement of the year. You had always found men wearing glasses pretty sexy too, and he definitely is no exception.

You do get a rush of pure joy by seeing him upset. You like the way his nose crunches up when you both leave your apartments at the same time, you like the way he visibly stiffens when you both run into each other in the parking lot and you playfully wink at him before you step in your own car, and you liked the way he rolls his eyes at your attempts to make fun of his uptight way of living -'get loose, Joonie. Let your hair down a bit!'-.

Oh, and you love the way the veins in his neck seem to be about to pop out at the nickname leaving your mouth.

“Which floor?” you ask nonchalantly, already pressing your  index finger into the number eight on the panel. “Ah, Joonie, smile a bit. It's Saturday night, aren't you supposed to be already tucked in your bed and staring at the cieling, boring yourself to death instead of going out and having fun for once in your life?” He licks his lips before speaking, answering too fast as if he had been thinking about a sentence specifically dedicated to you the whole day.

“It's Saturday night, aren't you supposed to be pouring drinks behind a bar stool until you find someone to bring home and share STD's with?” his voice is calm as usual, although it holds some sharpness in it and the way his fist is tigh around the handle of his briefcase says he's not as composed as he wants you to believe, which elicits an amused giggle from you.

“You know what, Joonie? You're actually pretty funny and cute. If you didn't have that stick in your ass all the time I might have let you fuck me already.” you snicker, already feeling content by seeing the way his eyes lightly falter while still looking at the metal doors in front of him, and his mouth opens and closes again, clearly taken aback by your comment.

Clearing his throat, he's ready to say something back, his brain finally functioning properly, providing him with a witty remark to send your way when, suddenly, the elevator stumbles and the lights flicker before it comes to a sudden and harsh stop.

“Shit.” you mumble, your eyes leaving Namjoon and scanning the room after realizing it wasn't moving anymore.

“What?” he says, clearly astonished.

“We're stuck, I guess.” you say, sighing and brushing your hair back..

“What?”

“We're stuck. Do you also have trouble hearing?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against the mirror on the wall.

“Wha-We need to do something. We-” he presses the alarm button on the panel, but no sound comes out. “What the-? Why isn't that working?”

“The building might have lost power due the storm.” you explain simply, not fazed in the slightest bit.

“Then why the hell are the lights still on?”

And in that very moment, the white lights above you completely turn off.

“Fuck, you really had to talk, didn't you?” you groan in the dark.

“Shut up, this is not my fault! If you hadn't appeared in the last minute, I would already be in my apartment tucked in my bed, staring at the cieling and boring myself to death.” his words are rushed, strained and a bit shaky. You furrow your brows.

“My God, calm down. Someone will get us out of here, just wait. Jesus.”

“Phone. Where's m-”you hear a thump on the floor and in a matter of seconds his cellphone lights up the small space. “Here it is. Ok, it's low on batery but I think there's enough for me to-”

“No, there isn't.” you said, peeking at the battery number in the corner of the screen.

“-call maintainence service so, let me jus-” and just like it suddenly had lighten up, the screen fades to black and you're both left in darkness once again. Muttering a 'told you', you can feel his stare throwing daggers at you from your side. “Well, where's your phone? Why haven't you used it yet?”

You shrug “I left it home.”

An exhasperated noise coming from him makes you roll your eyes once more. “Brilliant. This is just fucking great.”

“I said calm down, shit. Nothing's gonna happen, we'll be out of here in a few minutes.”

But your words aren't working and neither is your careless attitued and they are just fueling his desperate state.

“Fuck. This is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday night. I'm supposed to be home. I'm supposed to be getting a shower and sleeping and resting and ready to wake up tomorrow morning with a coffee by my side but here I am.”

“Dude, are you okay?

“No, I'm not!” his usually well ennunciated speech is trembling, his words are ragged and this is the first time you've seen your next door neighbor with his demeanor so decomposed. “I'm stuck with you and God knows for how long and- isn't it too hot? Christ, it's so hot. Why is it so hot?”

“Namjoon, are you claustrophobic?”

“No! No... I don't know. I need my inhalator. Where's my briefcase? I-I dropped it on the floor. Shit. Fuc-” you reach out to touch his arm and he flinches back. “What are you doing?!”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up and let me help you. You're having a mental breakdown! And you sound like you just ran a marathon. Come here.” you reach out again blindly, trying to find his suit clothed arm.

“N-no. Stop. I'm fine. I swear, I just-” he tries to keep a distance between you and him but you don't back away. Trying to figure out where he's standing, you finally manage to position yourself in front of him while he keeps rambling, failing to assure you he's doing ok.

“You're shaking and your breathing is uncontrolled.” your hands travel up his firm arms and shoulders until they rest on his chest, pushing away the thought of how well defined his form seemed to be under his clothes.

“______, I-”

“Here.” keeping one of your hands on his chest, right on top of his quickened pulse, your free hand finds one of his and you place it on your collarbones, The warmth of his touch startles you and sends a shiver down your spine and his heart skips a beat because, how the fuck is he going to calm down when your skin feels so smooth under his? “Try to mimick my own breathing. Let's do it together, okay?”

You inhale and exhale slowly, creating a pattern for him to follow, which he finds difficult at first but ends up keeping up with with ease. Everything's going well, his chest is not moving heavily anymore and his throat has no trouble letting the air out. You sigh in relief as you notice his hand resting on your chest has relaxed as well. As if dealing with your snobby neighbor was easy on a daily basis, you definitely are not looking forward to dealing with him while he's having a mental breakdown.

You're about to remove your hand from his chest, after finally making sure he wasn't on the verge of a panic attack, when a loud thud from outside followed by a minor stumble of the elevator makes him slide his hand upwards until it's tightly gripping your shoulder, trying to hold onto anything near him, and he's filled with consternation one more time, cursing up and down.

“Namjoon, calm down, please! It's alright! It won't take long for us to get out of here. I promise.-.”   your voice is starting to get exhasperated when you feel him stepping back away from you, his hand leaving your body and his body leaving your hands.

“No, no, no. Shit, did you hear that? Did you feel how it moved?! Shit!” you supress a giggle, not being able to avoid finding his nervousness and his swearing funny and vaguely arousing. You can't see him but you know his back is glued to the wall behind him, his whole body rigid and his long arms looking for something to take a hold of. Analyzing in your head possible alternatives to tranquilize him, since your last one didn't last too long, you decide to settle for, maybe not the best option, but definitely a better one than attacking him.

You take a step and blindly lift your hands, immediately finding his suit-clad pecs. You hear the beginning of an alarmed 'What the hell are you doing?!', but you quickly muffle it with your own lips.

It's messy and probably the worst kiss you've ever had. You mouth is barely grazing his lower lip becase you can only try to imagine where exactly it is. His whole body is still stiff, although you finally managed to shut him up. And you're about to pull away, because there's only silence and he's obviously not into it and you don't want to get a restricting order next week for sexually assaulting your neighbor.

But as you begin to separate yourself from him, you feel two warm hands sneaking around your waist, bringing you back to him and he's kissing you back.

It is sloppy, it is messy but this one is definitely not the works kiss you've ever had.

He presses his lips violently over yours before using his teeth to open them up. He swallows your surprised gasp by entering his tongue and, how can you deny it when it's dancing so aggressively with yours.

You finally decide to take action by sliding your hands up to his jaw and the back of his neck, aching to feel him closer. You don't even try to hide a moan and he breathes through his nose and the smacking sound of your lips meeting over and over again starts filling the room. You think you can smell your own arousal and all you've done is kiss.

Yet.

He pushes you until it's your back against the wall and his crotch between your thighs, rubbing his prominent erection against you. You gasp again and break the kiss, struggling to catch your breath.

Namjoon has a hard time believing what's happening. Never in a billion years he would have imagined he would be dry-humping you after getting stuck in an elevator together. But your lips were too soft and he didn't even get to fully enjoy them when you started to pull away. The sudden jolt that ran through his veins was what made him grab a hold of your waist. Such a little taste wasn't enough.

You don't speak as you manage to tear his suit jacket off somewhere on the floor. You can’t see anything. Who cares. You kiss him again as your fingers fumble with his tie and the buttons of his shirt. He tries to help you, but you push his hands away and finally decide to rip the fabric off.

“That's an Alexander McQueen shirt that cost me abou-” you smile when you picture Namjoon's outraged expression in your head and shut him up with your lips, hands carressing the newly exposed skin. He kisses back as your fingers trace the curve of every muscle on his firm torso.

You're too lost in his kisses, in his touch, in him, that you don't even realize he's pushing your pencil skirt up until it's completely hiked up and his fingers are already skimming through the fabric of your underwear.

You sigh against his lips and, unvoluntarily, try to feel him more of him and ecourage him to touch you properly by lifting your leg and wrapping it around his hip. He instantly hooks your thigh firmly while his fingers run up and down your clothed core, slowly.

Feeling your panties adhering to the stickiness between your folds, you groan in frustration. “No teasing, Namjoon. Please.”

He hears you. He understands and, honestly? He really doesn't want to anyway. That's why both his hands are finding the waistband of your underwear and, before you can tell him to -fuckig- take them off, his fists tug at them and you hold back a gasp when you feel the fabric ripping. You can also feel his lips curling up against your neck, pleased with himself as he drags his teeth along your skin.

Fair enough.

However, you don't have time to care about a pair of panties when his erection is pressing against you.

You reach down to palm him through his pants and, holy shit, who knew your neighbor would be so well endowed? You see the word 'Jackpot' in flashing lights in your head when his pants hit the floor and his shaft slaps against your stomach

Usually, you would need more preparation, specially considering Namjoon's size, but you can't wait. You're eager to feel all of him inside of you and he's not going to deny that to you.

He pushes inside of you, slowly at first, stretching you out so you  get used to him. You let a moan next to his ear and you hear a growl next to yours. He fills you up perfectly and it just feels to good when he starts to move inside of you.

The initial slight pain is long forgotten as his pace quickens and you cling onto him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and back. His grunting is sending shivers down your spine, there's a string of saliva on top of a future purple mark where your neck meets your shoulder and his thumb somehow managed to find your nub. He stretches your shirt with his other hand desperately while he keeps pounding into you, tugging it down along with the cup of your bra until he's able to free one of your breasts.

His mouth leaves your neck to find your nipple through the darkness and you moan when his tongue and teeth draw circles around it before letting it out with a loud pop. You can't control the sounds escaping from within you and you can already see yourself approaching your peek.

“Why do you smell so good?” he growls between bites to your breast. “Why do you feel so good?”

He finds your lips again in a fiery kiss before you can answer. You want to tell him how good he feels inside of you as well, but you can't seem to find the words or your breath to let it out. So, instead, you moan his name between kisses, between sounds of skin slapping against skin, between darkness.

And then, with a final thrust, you feel the knot in your stomach unraveling and you see a galaxy behind your eyelids. He's sent over the edge the moment your walls start to tighten around him and rides both your orgasms with a few sloppy thrusts before he's left panting against your neck and you're left panting against his, sweaty skin sticking to each other and none of you more.

And then, out of sudden, the lights are on and the elevator is moving again. You both look at your surroundings before settling your sight on each other again. His glasses are steamy and there's a faint blush on his cheeks, but he smiles when you smile and, before he can pull away to rearange his clothes, you make sure to ask,

'So, my apartment or yours?'.

[gendermesenpai-blog]

7:13am

Wew

I am fucking exhausted. Somehow yesterday was more tiring than V-day. I didn’t do that much. I did do a fair amount of flying around at top speed though. At one point I straight up forgot I had a job on me for like almost an hour. They called me on the radio like “yo did you take that up” and I was like “yeahhhhh???” and then I checked my bag and it was still in there. So I flew up to the state building in like 5 minutes, maybe the fastest I’ve ever done that run. Most of the rest of the day was chill though. Started out with a north flower. Then just state work.

My stomach is very unhappy with me right now. Haven’t had breakfast yet. HRT has made me hungry allllllll the time. I used to be able to not eat for a whole day. Like if I didn’t have money or I was in the middle of a 24-hour panic attack and couldn’t leave the house. I could just sit there and not eat. After starting mess work I needed at least a slice of pizza or a burger but not much else.

Now I wake up practically doubled over in hunger and can’t go even a few hours without some kind of food. Yesterday A recommended these beef bulgogi bowls they sell at one of our standby spots. He was like “it’s 6 bucks and enough for 2 meals.” I ate the entire thing in like 5-10 minutes. After having already had something from the chicken and waffle spot an hour or two earlier. My ass is gonna be huge lmao.

I’m also just not feeling very upbeat in general, like I was saying I’m exhausted. Some mornings I wake up and already feel good. Today is not one of those days. I don’t think I’m going to do any work this weekend. I’m just going to lay in bed and try to recover from the insanity that was this week.

Payday today so that’s nice, I checked earlier and it’s already in there from direct deposit. Bossman hasn’t been taking the payments for the phone so it doesn’t look as fat as it would otherwise. But it’s still a good amount. Still waiting on the tax return. IRS must really be struggling to adapt to the new rules set by the republican tax reform legislation. 

My goal for today is to just stay relaxed, try not to let my physical condition allow me to get agitated. I did that a bit yesterday and it wasn’t cool. After work we went to the park where the local punks chill, not far from my house. There was a lot more people there than I thought would be. Like probably 20-25. I didn’t say much, just rolled a fat J and smoked it with the messfam and then drank some Bulleit and left.

I think I’ll put on some of my beats or something and maybe that’ll liven me up a bit. So glad I remembered to charge my speaker last night, I recall doing that right before I passed out. I’m looking at buying some audio equipment to try to get started on a real recording setup, probably some XLR mics, a pre-amp, some sound paneling. I just learned about how to use Audacity’s noise reduction features. I had no idea it could do that. That will probably help my voice sound a lot better.

Fuck.... did I even dose last night? Holy shit I didn’t.

FUCK!

Wowwwww.

Ok I’m not going to freak out. This was a stupid mistake that won’t happen again. Forgetting an E dose is not as bad as forgetting spiro. But Jesus Christ. OK. I need to change something to prevent this. I even left the park at 8pm so I could make it back here in time, knowing it would be too weird trying to hide a dose in front of all those people. Fuuuuuuck. Well I feel really stupid now, that’s a great way to start my day. I not only forgot to drop a package for almost an entire hour, I also forgot my PM dose. Good job. Wow.

I’m gonna say no more chilling after work for a while. Straight home. I’ll say I’m getting serious about music, I have to go home to work on music. If I manage to complete my doses correctly for a couple weeks or whatever then we’ll see what happens then. It was just so nice out. But wow. Wowwwwwwww. I had it on me that whole time.

mfw:

edit: lmao and I just realized my front wheel is flat, I rode it home like that last night

oh and I’m out of the good disposable razors

fml