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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn. He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

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dangermousie · 3 years ago

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CFC 174 - a fire sale at the knife factory. And I do mean a sale in a knife factory on fire.

I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach before even opening the chapter. Oh Meatbun!

1. He Yu, even drugged, wanting to protect XQC and slamming the door shut but everyone saw XQC in such a state and nobody is thinking drugs and are all “well that’s why he stayed a personal doctor for so long” and BARF

2. The only good thing about it is how distraught LZS is.Hahahhaha in your face!

3. XQC is finally snapping out of it and I love that he is not blaming He Yu or whatever but instead is using his brain and is all “person who was supposed to come is WDH so it was part of an evil plot!”

4. He Yu is so terrified about XQC’s reaction to being exposed in public even his fingertips are trembling. My heart!!! And he’s buttoning XQC’s shirt and weeping. Man, HY cries so much all that damp would give him rheumatism.

5. You get such a sense of bone deep weariness from XQC. And he plans to apologize to LZS nooooo I can’t take it!

6. How did He Yu grow up with a backbone and forthrightness and any kind of morals at all with THAT as a mother? When he point blank tells her he loves XQC, he is the one who started the relationship and pursued him, that today was an accident but his feelings are not. I love it!

7. When He Yu said “if one of us is immoral, it’s not him, it’s me” and point blank admitted he forced XQC to be with him first I ascended!!! I love that LZS has no idea how to react because she never expected HY to be honest - she judges him by her own monstrous and cowardly standards so this is way outside her expectations.

8. LZS keeps telling him he has to protect the family, he cannot take the blame and I love love love He Yu’s response that he HAS to make things clear or XQC’s reputation and life would be ruined and he’d be blamed.

How did this kid grow up so right within that family? This is a miracle. And ironic that the “damaged goods” one is by far the best member of it - HY has done horrible things but he is also capable of repentance and devotion and selflessness and none of the rest of them are.

I love how forthright he is with her - that it’s too late for him to feel family warmth from them, that their house does not feel like a home, so that is not the priority for him to defend but XQC (who provided that warmth) is.

That is what happens when you neglect your child steadily for the last 20 years. But honestly, the very fact he is standing there functional and not locked in a cell or just full of bitterness is testament to both how strong he is and how good XQC’s existence in his life from childhood has been for him.

9. Hmmmm. Her reaction! I am sticking to her being a fake or at least something being seriously off about that birth story.

10. LZS finally loses her temper and goes to slap HY (what an idiot omg forget feelings - your mission!) but XQC comes in and honestly HY would have been better off slapped because he says he never had any feelings for HY and so HY would never need to explain things to anyone and this was a framing incident and he will find out the truth (ahahaha LZS in your toad face!) and the thing that gets me about XQC is how utterly inhumanly terrifying his willpower is. He is dying, he’s been utterly humiliated in the worst way, he does love He Yu and has to hide it and he is composed and ice cold and together and honestly, I don’t think anything could ever truly break the man (though I think Meatbun will do her best to.)

11. LZS hits XQC and I NEED HER TO DIE GRUESOMELY NOW!!! But also she is so dumb - how the hell did she get anywhere in the org - this is like the last thing she needs to strategically do!

12. XQC not taking this without a fight and is all “lady, you never cared for him, which is why I stayed, be a freaking mother at last or he’d be too pitiful” speech is !!!!

Meatbun is taking a break tomorrow and I cannot believe this will be the first day without an update in almost 6 months. This woman is like a genius machine!

#cnovel #case file compendium #meatbun doesn't eat meat

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eclipsedpascal · 4 years ago

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Lavender Bruises

Older!Duncan x Female reader

A meeting with you and your father’s company’s buyers, leads to the shocking realisation that you had unknowingly slept with it’s new owner, Duncan Shepherd, just the night before. You needed to hide this sinful secret from your father, which left you stuck between wanting to make him proud and the unsatisfied craving you couldn’t ignore for Duncan to claim you as his personal toy. But you could manage both. Right?

Warnings: mentions of work (ew), alcohol, one night stands, large age gap, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), intercourse, spit kink, slapping, spanking, hickeys, bruising, degrading/teasing, mouth fucking with fingers? is that a thing?, hair pulling and a ring kink ig:)

Notes: I've been writing this for fkn MONTHS now bcs I kept loosing inspiration, so this is actually the first thing I ever properly wrote! it's kinda complicated ig? idk like the parts in bold are a time skip to the night before and the fic goes in-between the meeting the reader is at and the previous night, meaning there’s two separate smut scenes so!!! but yeah i'm a whore lmao. Also ik hickeys don’t show up the same on certain skin tones and i’m sorry for that. i tried my best to be as inclusive as possible nd didn’t mention anything to do with the skin tone. Also!! if you're interested, I was listening to Cherry lips by garbage most the time I was writing this nd I feel like it fits it pretty well😌

Word count: 8.4k

●●●●●●●●

Going over the logistics of a content deal with the conglomerate that had recently bought your fathers newspaper wasn't the most preferable way for you to spend your lunch, but unfortunately it was necessary.

You know how these “lunches” go; business meetings disguised as casual discussions. They’re exactly the same if taken place in a conference room. Disagreeing and having to come to compromises you’d rather not, with the only differences being there's more chatter and cluttered noise of dinnerware coming from the restaurant around you.

You much preferred being in the office for these kind of things, but it was at the request of the new owners that you meet here, meaning you didn’t really have choice.

As you arrived at the restaurant you saw your father inside, waiting for your arrival just past the main entrances oversized, glass doors. You were almost 10 minutes late now and you knew he would be pissed. Honestly, you couldn't blame him.

Having to rush through a traffic riddled DC to get home at 10 in the morning because you had spent the previous night in a strangers hotel bed wasn't your proudest moment. Was it worth it? Yes, but it didn’t exactly leave you with much time to prepare for the lunch only two hours later.

You payed the driver and stepped out of the cab onto the drowning, wet sidewalk, desperately trying to shield yourself from the relentless rain that had been pouring down on the city all morning.

Looking up at the grand building on front of you, you could tell the place was going to be expensive. The entrances steps were 12ft wide and made of a pearly white marble that was now soaked with cascading rain water, making them even harder for you to run up in your heels as you tried escape the cold.

“Y/N, where have you been? You're 10 minutes late and these people don't like to be kept waiting." The people your father was referring to? the owners of Gardner Analytics. they had bought what seemed like hundreds of press company's over the past few years, especially those in the DC area. Their most recent purchase being the Washington herald, of which your father was the Editor-in-chief. You had been working there for a few months as your fathers assistant and helping out at these meetings had become routine.

“I'm so so sorry, my alarm didn't wake me and I-“

"It's fine" He interrupted "It's fine, just please tell me you have the documents I asked you to bring?" You could tell he was stressed out from the way his voice was wavering and how often he was stumbling over his words, so instead of trying to explain yourself any further you stayed quiet and did your best to take in as much of the information he was relaying onto you as you possibly could.

As he led you through the dinning room he explained to you who else was there, telling you that the others from the herald who were attending the lunch had already began talks with Gardener Analytics at the table ten minutes prior.

The closer you got to the table the more your fathers voice faltered, trying to round off the conversation so he could properly introduce himself when the time came. "Now Bill Shepherd had to cancel last minute, said it was something to do with his health unfortunately. But not to worry! I've spoken with him over the phone and he's informed me his nephew is filling in for him, okay?”

Before you even had a chance to reply he turned from you, reaching over the table to shake hands with a man you recognised as Seth Grayson; their director of communications, and an older woman who you assumed was Annette Shepherd. She and her brother Bill were the owner's of Gardner Analytics and your father had said it was important he got on their good side.

As your father greeted the others, you began retrieving the documents out of your bag, knowing they would be needed by Seth right away.

"..So sorry for the delay Mr Shepherd, you know how DC traffic can be" Your father chuckled slightly as he shook the man’s hand, making some light small talk. Mr Shepherd? that must be bill’s nephew, you thought.

You felt even more unprepared now; you didn’t even know the man’s name.

"This is my daughter and assistant, Y/N" Upon hearing your father introduce you to the mystery Shepherd, you slotted the documents under one arm and reached out to shake his hand with your other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shepherd" But as you shifted your gaze up to his own, you realised that there was no need for introductions.

He smiled gently, a kind of smug delight obvious in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking you all in. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N"

He released your hand from his grasp, moving to clasp his own behind his back. “But please, call me Duncan.”

Duncan fucking Shepherd. how could you be so oblivious? The two of you had spent hours together last night. How hadn't you figured out who he was? As panic ripped through you like a wildfire, you wondered if Duncan was feeling the same way; but from the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

●●●●●●●●

11:34pm previous night

It was getting pretty late now, and meeting someone who could fuck the stress out of you was becoming less and less likely by the minute. so deciding to finish your drink and leave, you took in the room one last time; making sure you hadn’t missed anyone interesting.

The fluorescent red and blue lighting of the expensive hotel bar was just bright enough for you to spot an older man you hadn’t noticed before. He must have been at least 40. He was sat in a booth with five or six others, all drinking, laughing and joking, yet he was staring at you.

Taking the seat next to you, he called out to the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”

You'd been waiting for him to come over ever since you saw him. It had been 20 minutes or so of quick glances and smiles to each other before the group of men he had been with dissipated. You had heard one of the men he was with refer to him as ‘Duncan’ when he had said his goodbyes, but other than that all you could assume about the man was that he was rich; judging by the all black LV suit he was wearing.

"Can I buy you a drink?” Turning to face at him when you heard him speak, you were practically stupefied by how attractive he was. His hair was full of shiny grey streaks that aged him. His stubble complimented his cheekbones perfectly and the speckles of grey throughout it helped bring out the brightness of his piercing blue eyes. His lips were full, and you couldn't help but notice how soft they looked.

“Vodka and coke” You smiled, trying your best to be confidant, but they way he was looking at you was giving you butterfly's you couldn’t swat away.

“I.D?” The bartender asked. You grabbed it out of your purse, proving your age to the bartender before watching him walk away to make your drink.

There was a brief silence before the man spoke again. “I hope my staring didn’t bother you, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His flattery almost made you blush, but he wasn’t going to get you with a line that bad.

“Didn’t bother me at all, though i’m sure your friends there must have been envious” You chose to ignore his cheesy line, knowing that as much as you wanted him to take you there and then, you would much prefer making him work for it.

He chuckled slightly, knowing the game you had chosen to play. he looked away from you and down into his glass before taking a swig of the golden-brown liquor that occupied it. “Well I’m known to be quite a busy man, so I’m sure they understood.” He turned to face you slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“Busy enough of a man to be drinking on a Tuesday night?” You questioned him teasingly, Ignoring that you yourself had the most important meeting of your young career in just over twelve hours.

“Is that really such a surprise? Most times being so busy is the main reason for drinking” He joked with you as he flirted, making it hard for you to keep eye contact without going red at the thought of such a beautiful man seeking your attention.

Duncan could see how nervous you were under the confident demeanour you had put on, I mean you were practically screaming it out to him at this point. The way you were fidgeting with the chain of your silver earring as you leaned against the bar and the fact you couldn’t even look at him for longer than 3 seconds without blushing was evidence enough for him.

“Well, that’s true.” You giggled a little as you spoke in your anxious state.

Taking a hold of your drink, you wrapped your lips around the paper straw and moved your gaze over to the bartender who was now serving someone a few seats down, attempting to distract and ground yourself from the situation at hand.

You were gripped back into reality quickly when you heard him speak again.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to eat you.” You found his use of the phrase quite ironic, being that’s exactly how it seemed. His eyes were piercing into you in an almost questioning manner, but when he gazed over your body, taking in your satin, black slip dress covered curves, the swipe of his tongue against his plump bottom lip gave you a very different impression; an impression he wanted to devour you. It was as if he thought you were that sweet snack he had been craving all week.

“No? That's a shame” You faked a frown, pouting as you moved to rest your chin on your hand.

“Well I think we should at least be aware of each others names before making such wild propositions, don’t you…?” His smirk never seemed to leave his face as he spoke.

He was good at this game, better than you at least. Of course It was obvious he was going to have had more experience with his age and all, but the way he was charming you so easily with just plain old conversation and confidence was getting harder and harder to match.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You batted your eyelashes at him a little, for some reason feeling smaller upon revealing your name to him. You felt as if you had lost the upper hand in the conversation suddenly.

“Hm, Y/N. That’s beautiful.” You rolled your eyes. Of course it is. Thats what they all say. You thought.

“Aren't you going to ask mine?” His ego now showing, you decided to make a bolder move.

“You rather fancy yourself, don’t you, Duncan?”

He finished his drink and moved closer to you. “Oh, so you already know my name?”

He was close enough to you now that you could make out the many beauty marks which decorated his cheekbones and hear the rasp of his voice even better than before. It was thick as honey and just as sweet too.

“I heard your friend call you it.” You quickly replied.

He scoffed a little, finding amusement in what he was about to say. He brought his face down closer to yours and began to run his fingers through your hair. “Hm, well he’s an old friend sweetheart. Most people would call me Mr Shepherd.”

You felt yourself grow hot, Duncans words casting a haze of complete lust over your mind.

You did your best to stay confidant, doing everything you could to ensure you didn't loose this game the two of you were playing. “Really? Is that what you like? Mr Shepherd.”

Your faces were so close to each others now that you could smell the bourbon on his breath when he let out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites showing as he did so. You even felt him graze his stubble against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” He ran his finger over your lips as he spoke slowly. "So tell me, what is it that does it for you Y/N? Hm? I mean a girl your age doesn’t decide to stare at a man like me all night just for the hell of it. So what is it? The power? The money? Or is it the age gap so big I could be your father?”

You squeeze your legs together as his sentence finishes, letting out a hushed whimper. Of course you were attracted to older men, that was obvious, but hearing him say it out loud in public whilst being so close to you turned you on even more than you thought previously possible.

He chuckled a little, “So it’s the age then, is it sweetheart? The idea of having a man more.. experienced pleasure you, instead of a man who would leave you to fend for yourself after finishing in less than five minutes. You want someone who can make you cum so hard you’d be begging him to make it stop, don’t you?” Every move Duncan made, every word he spoke was calculated, and it was all in pursuit of teasing you just because he knew he could.

You made a mental note of his nickname for you as you looked up at him. You felt his fingers run across your cheek and then push some stray hairs back behind your ear as you desperately tried to think of something smart to say, anything to say; but he had won. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. You didn’t even care anymore. You were more than ready to give what little of a resolve you still had up to him.

He whispered to you as he moved his spare hand up the small of your back. “Now little one, I have the presidential suite of this hotel under my name tonight. So what do you say we go on up? Since now we're just so well aquatinted."

●●●●●●●●

Having to take part in a meeting with your father and the man double your age that you had fucked for hours the night before was NOT what you had planned for today.

“Mr Shepherd, I apologise that I didn’t make it here on time. I had a pretty hectic morning.” You did your best to keep your chill in your now shocked state, but with everyone watching the two of you it wasn’t easy.

“No don’t worry, I know how DC traffic can be, especially in this weather. As long as you're here now.” A wide smile was planted on his face as he spoke. The same as last night. He never broke eye contact with you, and you found yourself wondering how he could do it so easily.

“Please, sit.” He gestured you over to take a seat as he pulled out the chair next to his own. You thanked him politely and sat down, your mind racing and spiralling out of control at the thought of your father discovering the sinful deeds you and his new boss had taken part in just hours prior.

You felt him tuck you into the table before sitting down next to you. You could hear the voices of the restaurant that surrounded you and the others at the table coming at you. Every noise was muffled, as if your head was suddenly underwater.

“Y/N?” You were quickly brought back to reality when you heard Seth question you.

“From my understating you have the merger documents in your belonging, yes?” He looked at your father for reassurance this was definitely case as he spoke. So with everyone at the table’s eyes on you, you slid the documents over to him.

“Yes! And uhm the specifications for the more politically based content changes are detailed on page 25. I was told that was of high interest today?” You got yourself back on track, trying to stay as professional as possible whilst ignoring Duncan and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“We were briefly discussing the more major changes before you arrived Mr Y/L/N, but I believe you’ve already been made aware of most them?” Duncan addressed your father, kicking the meeting off. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were listening to the conversation, you really were! It was just that you were so wrapped up in Duncan’s voice you couldn’t actually understand what the fuck they were all talking about.

Seeing him so invested in the crucial conversation he was having with your father and the many other associates at the table was just doing something to you.

Observing the way his hands were moving when he spoke, you noticed how he would often clasp them together when he was explaining things, and how he would tilt his head slightly as he listened. His bronzed curls were combed to perfection, resting delicately on the right side of his face and when he licked his bottom lip, it sent a shiver down through your spine all the way to your cunt. You were entirely captivated by him.

Hearing your Father ask for your opinion on the subject being discussed, you shook off the spell Duncan’s attractiveness had casted onto you and responded, giving your perspective on the subject.

Duncan relaxed into his seat a little more as he watched you talking. He knew you had been staring at him, but it was cute, he thought. Almost endearing seeing you get so flustered at just the sight of him. He had seen you squirming around in your seat whilst you watched him and decided the accidental teasing wasn’t enough; he wanted to toy with you more. As much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you’re trying hide what’s happened between us then you might consider making your staring a little less obvious, sweetheart.” He was speaking quietly enough for nobody else to hear and not looking in your direction, pretending to still partake in the tables back-and-forth. Still the fear of your father, who was sat just across the table, overhearing Duncans remarks was petrifying.

You knew you couldn’t let your craving for him and the confusion from not knowing who he was last night effect the meeting, but there he was with that nickname again, stirring your desire even further.

“How are you even here?” You let your frustrations out onto him as you talked back, his cocky attitude getting to you too easily with the stress you were under. “I’m trying so hard not to ruin today and this situation isn’t helping! They’ll fire me if I mess this up and I’ll be fucked! Which surprisingly, I’d prefer not to be!” Your whispering was pretty aggressive, but could you really blame yourself?! This kind of coincidence was rare, so you had every right to be mad at the universe for letting it occur on today of all days.

His ego not faltering for even a second, he chuckled. “Oh you don’t wanna get fucked? Funny, because I remember you saying the exact opposite last night.”

He grazed his hand across your inner thigh, massaging it gently before diving underneath the little black pencil skirt you were wearing to grip onto your flushed skin.

You scoffed at his words and looked up at him, shocked at how bold he was being and expecting some kind of response from him, but he didn’t even look your way. You assumed this was so no attention was brought to the two of you and so you followed his lead, turning away from him just as fast as you had looked.

With the heat of your cunt having grown far too intense to bear, any friction that wasn’t your own thighs pressing up against each other was to be welcomed. So you decided not to stop him. In fact you did the exact opposite, spreading your thighs wider for him, not having the self control or restraint to keep yourself from him any longer.

His hand moved closer to where you needed him most, diving under the crotch of your underwear to swipe his fingers over your slick folds and immediately begin rubbing circles onto your neglected clit.

You stifled a moan, leaning onto the table on front of you to keep yourself steady as he touched you. Finally, he moved his gaze to rest on you, watching you as you struggled to stay silent. He whispered once more, “Always so wet for me, aren't you princess?”

●●●●●●●●

As soon as you entered the suite, Duncan gripped onto your waist, pushing you up against the door and cradling your cheek with his spare hand before smashing his lips into yours.

His tongue slipped past your lips, dancing with yours whilst he moved his hands all over your body, clutching onto your breasts and then moving them down to explore the rest of you.

He lifted your dress up just enough so he could grip your ass. Pulling you closer to him and making you feel his bulge against your hips, you were too short in comparison to him to feel him where you wanted to most.

He spoke to you in kisses, telling you of how ravenous he was for you and that he was going to savour every moment. He moved his lips down, trailing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your breasts.

“This fucking dress” He took ahold of the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your head with urgency as you lifted your arms to better help him strip you. Throwing the dress down onto the floor and hearing it land somewhere behind him, he admired your body and it’s curves.

“The perfect wrapping for such an enticing present.” He finished his sentence. Immediately grabbing at your breasts, sucking and kissing them.

You couldn’t speak, too enthralled with the technique of his tongue swirling around your nipple to do anything but moan in response to him.

You threw your head back against the door, staring up that the beautifully patterned ceiling in pure ecstasy. You felt him drag a callused hand down to the waistband of your Lacy white panties, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach as he traced his fingers over it. His finger tips running across the little white bow that centred the waistband.

He collapsed down to his knees, yanking the delicate lingerie as he fell, leaving it to puddle around your ankles.

He teased your heat, moving from kissing the skin of your thighs to your folds, but not yet reaching the lengths you wanted him to, only adding fuel to the fire in between your legs.

“Please Duncan-” you begged him, desperately needing some kind of release from the binds of lust he had managed to wrap you in over the past 45 minutes.

“Ah ah, don't you remember? You don’t get to call me that.” He spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd.” You corrected yourself, recalling the conversation you had with him prior to coming upstairs.

“Mhmm, now as magnificent as that name sounds coming from you, I know that there’s something else you’d rather call me.” He hummed in disapproval, calmly redirecting your choice of name for him and reassuringly pressing his lips onto your clit.

You let out a stuttered gasp, you did want to call him that, but now you felt nervous due to the build up he had created.

“Com’n, sweetheart. Do you think I don't know why you’re here in the first place? Why else would you be sat all alone in the bar of a hotel you weren’t even staying at? You’re just another slut with daddy issues, sneaking down to an expensive hotel to scavenge for any man good enough to fuck you into submission. Isn’t that right?”

Mildly insulted at his all too accurate observation of you, but enjoying the effect his degrading words have on you none the less, you gave him what he wanted. “Mm yes daddy!” You whimpered out, admitting your ploy to him.

A low rumble emitted from his chest, your words setting off some kind of animal inside him. He dove his face down into your pussy, starting by sucking on your clit gently, flicking his tongue over it and applying more and more pressure as you writhed above him.

His mouth was closed around you now, his grey, speckled stubble scratching your already inflamed skin. You were taken aback by his skills, intwining your fingers through the curls in his hair and tugging on them with every wave of pleasure that hit you.

He snaked his large hand around your thigh, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder while he ate you out. Enjoying the new angle he was utilising, he hummed, sending vibrations through your nerves up to the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Mmh.. fuck daddy, i’m gonna cum!” He didn’t let off, his tongue perhaps fucking into you even faster since you told him how close you were. You locked stares as your orgasm took over your body, your lips forming an o as you screwed your eyebrows together in rapture.

He came back up, letting you taste yourself and he placed his lips on yours again. You eased into the kiss, a relaxed haze having taken over your body in your post-orgasm state. Feeling a slight breeze flow up the side of your form, you realised that Duncan still had all his clothes on whilst you had none. Deciding you needed to change this as soon as possible, you began unbuttoning his suit’s matching black blazer and shirt, rushing to feel his skin on yours.

He helped you, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as you began to unthread his leather belt from the loops of his trousers. “You’re so impatient, little one.” He spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” You smirked, dropping the belt at his feet.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor you reached up, gliding your hands across the expanse of his bear chest, taking notice of how small your hands appeared in comparison to him. He watched you, relishing in the glimmer of entrancement that shone through your eyes as you ingested him.

He lifted you, his strong arms carrying you bridal style towards the king sized bed and throwing you down onto its crisp, satin sheets. Grabbing your ankles, he dragged you down the bed towards him and finished taking his pants off. His cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, smacking against his stomach.

He clambered onto the bed, resting on his knees as he jerked himself in his hand, reluctantly groaning out at the first contact his neglected cock had received all night. His pressing cock had made it unfathomably hard not to just fuck you up against the door when he saw that sweet little way in which your face scrunched up as you came.

You were practically drooling, watching him fuck himself into his fist as his eyes scanned across your naked body. Not being able to wait any longer and wanting to finally feel his cock on your skin, you sat up slightly and reached out to touch him. But before you got the chance, he shoved you back down. leaning over you, he held your wrists down against the pillows with one hand and wrapped his other around your delicate throat.

“So greedy, baby” he stoked his thumb over the skin of your neck as he made his observation, watching you struggle underneath him.

“I just know what I want.” You toyed, your voiced coming out slightly muffled with the pressure of his large hand covering your voice box.

“Such an attitude, too.” His cock brushes over your cunt as he sways his head from side to side in disappointment and disproval. “Now sweetheart, you’re gonna stay exactly where you are and daddy’s gonna fuck you just like this, okay? So he can see that pretty little face of yours.”

You gulp at his words, anticipating the feeling of having him inside you. “Please just fuck me. Please.” You knew you sounded absolutely pathetic, but you didn’t care. Just needing him plummeting in and out of you as soon as possible.

He chuckled at your neediness. Taking his hands back from your wrists and grasping his cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, he let you adjust to his size.

Moaning out, you dug your nails into the bed sheets, watching his head drop down to yours as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

●●●●●●●●

He slipped his ringed finger into you, pushing against your spongy walls whilst you made a desperate attempt to suppress your moans. You bite down onto your nails, your elbow resting on the table as you put all your weight onto it for some kind of crutch.

He began with a slow pace, making sure you would feel every little movement he made. You heard him join into the conversation once again, mentioning something about an article he had seen from the Herald last month which had impressed him. You weren't even sure. You couldn't think for the pulsing beat of your own heart that filled your ears.

“You all right there, Y/N?” Your heavy breathing must have been a dead give away for something being up, being your father was now questioning you.

You felt Duncan stop his movements momentarily, joining the rest of the table in their standstill, staring at you as they awaited a reply, but his little act of sincerity didn't last too long.

“Yeah, uhm-“ you felt him slide a 2nd figure in, making you fake a cough as to stop the cry desperately trying to escape your throat from doing so.

“Yeah, I’m uh, just thirsty.” Hoping this would ward off the worried looks you were receiving, you were shocked when you heard Duncan chime in. “Oh don’t worry, we can get you something.”

He called the waiter over, asking him for a pitcher of lemonade and thanking him as he walked away, back towards the kitchen. You would have preferred some water, you thought, but you were far too focused on what was going on underneath the table to say anything.

“Now, where were we?” Seth began talking once more, bringing the attention back to where it should be. But Duncan? No. His attention stayed on you. Even more focused on fucking his fingers into than before, he sped up and began going even deeper now, curling them upwards until you were twitching.

You looked up at him pleadingly. You were getting too close to cumming for your own liking, so you grabbed onto his thigh and dug your nails into his expensive black dress pants, warning him. He shot you a devious grin, scissoring his fingers inside you and pressing his thumb down to rub sweet circles on your hooded clit, letting you know he didn’t intend on stopping.

He looked behind you suddenly. Following his gaze, you snapped your head to the side, trying to get a good look at what had grabbed his attention so abruptly.

It was the waiter. He had arrived with the pitcher of lemonade in hand and yet Duncan was still plummeting his hand into your pussy with such a speed you began to wonder if someone had actually noticed what was truly going on. I mean the waiter must know.

At this point you had let far too many questionable gasps leave your mouth, your breathing had become even more erratic as you grew closer to your orgasm. He knew you were about to break before he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you, wiping the juices that coated them back and front onto your skirt so he could pick up the glass on front of you, leaving you unsatisfied.

You scrambled to collect your thoughts and breath as he picked up the pitcher, pouring the ice cooled lemonade into your glass.

“Here.” He spoke. You lifted a shaky hand up to take the glass from him when the grasp he had on it ‘slipped’, spilling the contents of it the onto your lap.

“Oh!’ You jumped up, making the sweet, sticky liquid run off your skirt to your thighs, dripping down your legs and eventually onto the floor. The now empty glass falling with it.

“I am so sorry, Miss Y/L/N.” He picked up the glass, sitting it on the table before joining you in standing. Now he was stood, you could clearly see the dark tint of his cock straining against the constrictive fabric that was his dress pants. It sent a pulse of lust through your cunt.

“Duncan!” Hearing Annette voice her annoyance at her son for being so clumsy almost made you laugh. It was quite amusing seeing his mother reprimand him, being he was a grown man in his 40s.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I-I’ll just go clean myself up in the bathroom. I don’t want to distract the meeting anymore than I already have.” You made eye contact with your father as he rubbed his temples.

He was annoyed at the scene you and Duncan had caused. You gave him an apologetic look, feeling bad for stressing him out even more than you already had with being late, but knowing it was technically Duncan’s fault and not yours.

“Please, let me help you clean up.” Duncan pushed his chair in, quickly grabbing some napkins off the table and resting his hand on your back to guide you towards the nearest bathroom, walking as fast as your weak legs would let him.

His hand stayed delicately placed on the small of your back, until you were out of the tables sight, at which point he took hold of your arm, clutching it like a vice as he dragged you through the bathroom door.

He locked the door behind him in preparation for what was to come. He needed to make sure nobody would be walking in on what he was about to do to you.

Looking back towards you, satisfied as ever now he had you alone, he waltzed on over, pinning you up against the counter with force. You could smell him on you again, same cologne from the night before. Dior, you guessed.

“You’re not very good at staying quiet, are you, Sweetheart?” He mused, hoisting you up onto the counter and forcefully cradling your face with both hands as he moved to kiss you deeply. His tongue ravenously re-familiarising itself with your mouth.

“You almost got us caught back there.” He spoke in between kisses. “Your poor, naive father, watching you. He was probably wondering why you kept squirming.” He voiced a dark giggle, moving down to suckle on your neck and push your skirt up your thighs.

“I almost got us caught? No. Y-you almost got us caught when you decided putting a second f-FUCK, finger into me whilst I was talking to him was a good idea!” You choked out, doing your best to fight through the pleasure of his lips finally grazing your skin as you watched him pull your panties down and slot them into his pants pocket.

“Awh poor baby. Did you not want your daddy knowing that you’re a greedy little slut for his new boss? Hm?” He admired the blossoming lavender and cherry bruises now forming on your neck as he teased, marvelling at the idea they could be noticed by your father once you finished.

He quickly opened his fly, pulling his dress pants and boxers down just enough that he could pump his cock in his hand. Gripping onto your hips for purchase, his fingers dug into you so viciously you could feel the marks he had left the night before. You knew after this, there would surely be more.

He thrust himself into you, earning a loud wail to fall from your lips. You arched your spine at the feeling of him pounding into you, making your head fall back against the mirror behind you. His hand shot up to the it as he gathered more speed, his pace growing far faster than you had anticipated.

“Was it too much for you? Taking my fingers in your cunt whilst you were trying oh so hard to concentrate? I almost made you cum on front of everyone.” You moaned out at his grotesque words, pulling your head up to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Answer me.” He pulled your chin up back to look at him, still pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping against one another’s felt even louder in the small, tiled bathroom.

“Yes daddy! It was too much for me - AHH!!” You let yourself go limp against the mirror, giving yourself up to him entirely and wanting nothing more than for him to use you like his personal rag doll.

●●●●●●●●

Your throat was growing hoarser with every squeal you made. Duncan had been fucking you ruthlessly for what felt like hours now, constantly changing his pace from calm to aggressive and back again. His lips were mouthing over your peaked nipples, tongue slathering trails of saliva across your skin and teeth scrapping over dozens of tiny goosebumps.

“Such a filthy, fucking whore for me.” Squeezing down on your neck with one hand he uses his other to slap you. His ringed hand coming down across your fleshy cheek with a loud crack.

You gasped out, shocked at this move and feeling reinvigorated by the suddenness of it. His abuse only made you more attracted to him, causing your cunt to puddle its juices around his cock.

Slowing his thrusts down to an almost complete halt, he grabbed your jaw, yanking your mouth open just enough that when he dripped his spit down you could catch it. You moaned at the filth of his actions, tasting the bourbon he had drank earlier at the bar.

Following the thick thread of salvia that connected the two of you to each other, he brought his face back down to yours, bringing your sloppy lips together. Never giving you the chance to close your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Your lips part, foreheads leaning on each other with eyes locked as you scream and moan at his brutal fucking. “Such a good girl.” He praised you.

“Thank you daddy!!” You cry out, feeling tears brimming in your eyes at the deepness of his cock. You knew he was going to be good when he first pushed you up again that door, but this was insane. You had never felt his turned on before. Loving being completely at his mercy, but receiving none.

He pulled out suddenly, wrapping his hands around your stomach and flipping you over to your front. You got the just of what he wanted and clambered onto your hands and knees for him. He pushed his cock back into your folds, hips ricocheting off your ass immediately.

He pulled at your hair, lifting you up to his chest as he gruffed and groaned. He was much larger than you, making it easy for him to pull your head back enough that he could see the expression on your lust enthralled face.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He demands, spanking your ass cheek and twisting your hair around in his hand. His other hand moved to your gaping mouth, pushing two fingers inside so you taste the metallic bite of his silver band.

You gag as he fucks your mouth, mumbling around his fingers in a desperate attempt at begging him to allow you to cum. You were getting so close now. You guys had been going for so long and your impending release wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“Fuckk, don’t worry sweetheart. Daddy’s close too.” He took his fingers out of your mouth, bringing them down to your clit and swiping at it furiously. You could feel your own spit on his fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Ohh Daddy’s gonna come so deep inside you, little one.. would you like that?” His breathes were uneven. Thrusts uncontrolled and sloppy.

“Yes!! Fuck, fuck, FUCK Daddy I’m cumming!!” Your cunt pulsated around his shaft, squeezing his own orgasm out of him even sooner than he expected as you screamed. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears, them having run down your cheekbones and into your agape mouth.

His cum flooded your walls, filling you up with his hips pressed against yours as he enveloped you in an embrace from behind. He uttered out a shudder against your temple, his breathe feeling hot and damp on your skin.

He set you back down on the bed and pulled his softening shaft out of you, moving his large hands back to your hips as your own gave out and fell underneath you, pressing your face into the sheets. You eventually rolled over to lay on your back, wanting to let your aftershocks roll through your quivering limbs more comfortably.

He fell down onto the duvet next to you, propping himself up on his side slightly and pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss on your swollen lips. “You alright? I didn't hurt too bad now, did I?” He stroked your face, words alluring as ever now your resting bare bodies were tangled up together in a complete stand still.

“Nothing that I didn't enjoy, no.” You joked, lightly drawing intricate shapes on his arm with your fingertips, still harnessing the blemishing sting his ring had left under your cheekbone. “I’d say we're pretty well aquatinted now; wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

●●●●●●●

You could feel cool drips of perspiration slipping down your heated skin from your forehead to your collar bones and all you could do was hope they hadn't taken any of the concealer you had applied earlier this morning with them. You had needed to cover the bruise Duncan’s ring had so easily left on your cheek the night before, since you really didn't want your father or anyone else from work seeing it.

Duncan’s cock was curving in all the right places as he hammered into you. His pace and brutality showing you stars. He seemed even more confident than he did yesterday. Having had experience with you, he knew that you could take his most heinous savagery with delight and didn’t hold off one bit.

His huffs and groans were tantalising, growing louder and more uncontrolled as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand squeaked as it fell down the steamed mirror he leant on, leaving the glass behind you and finding its way to your jaw. He brought your face to his own and kissed you, loudly moaning into your open mouth.

You giggled through your mewls. “Mmm.. I thought I was the loud one, daddy.” You were amused that he had been teasing you so adamantly about the volume of your pleasure, when he was now the one making all the noise.

He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you before slamming his hips into you with a thrust so strong it made you practically scream out. “Oh, my apologises, sweetheart.” He smirked as he picked up his pace once more.

You wrapped your hands in his perfectly styled hair. You no longer cared who knew what was really happening in here, the thought didn’t even cross your mind. All you cared for was chasing your high. You rutted your hips on his and took his length entirely, feeling dangerously close to cumming.

“Fuckkk baby, daddy’s gonna cum okay?. Cum with me princess. Fall apart on my cock.” His unfocused thrusts had you coming undone in seconds. You held onto him tight, digging your nails into his shoulders and pulling at his curls as you cried out in ecstasy.

He shot his seed into you, feeling all his pent up frustrations from earlier at the table leave him as he pushed himself deep into your abused cunt. He didn’t even attempt to stifle his moans, too invested in finally receiving his release to realise just how loud he was being.

He rested his forehead on yours, your sweaty skin pressed against each other as you both attempted to catch your breathes after such a quick, ruthless fuck. You started laughing, finding it utterly ridiculous that you had spent the majority of a meeting you had been terrified for, getting fucked by your new boss (and the man you had fucked the night before) in a restaurant bathroom.

He joined in laughing, clearly finding humour within this strange situation too. Interrupting your laugh, he pushed his lips into yours, kissing you as if your lips were some kind of prize. You felt his cock slip from your cunt, his seed immediately spilling from it as you were left with a sudden, empty sensation.

He made quick work of zipping his pants back up and fastening his belt. You tugged your skirt back down to your thighs, being reminded of how Duncan had snatched your panties and stashed them in his pants pocket. You guessed you wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon, which you were okay with, you just hoped nobody saw his remnants leaving you left the bathroom.

You flattened out your skirt and felt the wet sticky lemonade that still coated it. You had completely forgotten to clean it. “Fuck, my skirt's still sticky! Why would you order lemonade?” You whined; still mad he hadn’t just ordered some water.

Awaiting a reply, you turned to check your make up in the mirror. Luckily it was pretty light today, so it still looked good other than the bruise on your cheek now being slightly more obvious than before. What really concerned you was your neck. It was covered in every shade of purple and red you were aware existed. If your father and coworkers didn’t know what was going on from how weird you were being at the table before, or how long it had taken the two of you to finish in the bathroom, or the noises that were emitting from it, they would definitely know after seeing all the claims he had left on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that spilt water would have been a good enough excuse to get you all alone in here.” He chuckled to himself, leaning over to rest his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around your waist as he joked over his mischievousness.

“But we should probably head back out there. I’m sure your father’s going to apprentice the beautiful mosaic I’ve painted across your neck” he kissed the bruises he spoke of as he watched you through the mirror.

You scoffed at him, gifting yourself one last look before completely giving up on finding a way you could make your face and neck appear more presentable for heading back to the table.

Duncan opened the bathroom door, nodding his head towards the hallway and waiting for you to hurry up and join him.

The two of you started walking back, your legs struggling to take your weight with how weak they had become. Your heels clicked along the floor, making you far more aware of how soon you would be sitting back down with everyone from work. Like a clock counting down to all the judgmental stares you would surly be receiving.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor as you took your seat at the table. Seths voice trailed off upon seeing the two of you sit down, leaving you both in the middle of an uncomfortable silence that felt near suffocating.

“What took so long!” You could hear the anger and perhaps embarrassment in Annettes voice as she whispered to Duncan. She looked towards you, glaring and scowling before retiring her vision back to him. She was probably hoping that what she assumed to have occurred hadn’t, but from the marks clearly decorating your neck, she would have known it to be true.

“Oh, we just couldn’t get the lemonade out of her skirt.” He tut as he spoke to his mother, smiling and playing off any obvious suspicions. “I’m sorry, really.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, dripping with a sincerity you knew to be false.

“So what was it we were discussing?” he speaks louder now, addressing the rest of the table.

“Uhh actually, I think we have a deal.” Seth replied, looking over at him and then the rest of the table. You heard your father mutter something in agreement, but it was meek. Quiet. He must have felt the awkward tension too. It was ripe in the air, like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You didn't even want to look at him, knowing If anyone there felt most uncomfortable, it was him.

Saying their goodbyes and finishing up with any last details, everyone stood to shake hands and bid their farewells. You felt your fathers scowl as he came and stood beside you, but you didn't dare look at him. You were too ashamed to face him whilst still with your coworkers.

Duncan walked over to your father, looking more satisfied than ever with his eyes still focused on you as he thanked him for meeting and shook his hand firmly.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Y/L/N.” He let go of your fathers hand only to take a hold of yours. He grasped it delicately, a touch more gentle than he had ever shown you previously. Assuming he was trying you shake it, you were more than surprised when he raised it to his lips, kissing your rosey knuckles; still red from the tight grip you had, had on his hair earlier.

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Y/N.” He graced you with once last signature smirk as he walked away, leaving you with your father who was waiting for an explanation and apology for your disgusting and foolish behaviour.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst way to spend lunch.

Tags: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @ntxoza @angelicmichael @jimmason @michaellangdonstanaccount @blakescoven @7-wonders @ghostangels @fernfiction @brattylovee @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @instincts-baby

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x female reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #house of cards fic #older!duncan #older!duncan shepherd #older!duncan x reader #boss!duncan #boss!duncan shepherd #boss!duncan shepherd x reader #daddy duncan #cody fern #cody fern fic #my writing

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sunrisefairy · 4 years ago

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Last chances

Pairing: George Weasley x reader Warning: Alcohol, swearing, angst (but worth it i promise) Summary: Y/N is getting married. To someone that isn’t George.

A/N: this was written for @inglourious-imagines 1K writing challenge (i just realised i didnt tell you before hand what prompts i was gonna do so i hope thats okay) based off the prompts ‘you need to leave’ and ‘d-did you just k-kiss me?’

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa send me an ask if you would like to be added

———————————————————————————————————

George felt all the air being sucked out of his lungs as he read over the golden cursive words printed onto the crisp white paper. He could feel Fred’s pitiful stare burning holes into the side of his head, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the paper in his grasp. George’s brain was overflowing with thoughts, but his head was empty at the same time, as if every time he reached out his thoughts were dissolving into liquid and slipping through his fingers.

By the time George managed to make eye contact with Fred, his eyes were red and burning with tears, the only thought he could wrap his fingers around was the one which was destroying him the most, “she’s getting married?”

~~~

The sun was beating down harshly making the sand feel like tiny grains of lava, but George didn’t care. It was the middle of summer and the Weasley family had invited the Y/L/N’s to the beach. John and Nancy Y/L/N had been very good friends with Molly and Arthur Weasley for many years having met during high school. But soon after graduation John and Nancy got married and decided to travel the world which they had done for a few years before having their daughter Y/N. They moved around a lot while Y/N was a baby, still wanting to explore and see what the world had to offer. But now, Y/N was 7 and they decided it would do her and themselves some good to settle down somewhere, plant some roots so to speak. Which is how they ended back in the small town John and Nancy grew up in, the one where the Weasleys were still living.

Giving that it was summer, and the weather was reaching high temperatures the Weasley family decided to spend the day at the beach so the children could kill some energy and excitedly invited their old friends, John and Nancy to catch up.

George was particularly thrilled not only because he loved days at the beach playing with his siblings and making sandcastles just to pretend he was a giant and stomp on them, but he couldn’t wait to meet Y/N. His parents had told him and Fred that Y/N was their age and although Fred wasn’t very interested in playing with a girl and would much rather prank Ron, George had a good feeling about Y/N.

George had just finished constructing a sandcastle he named ‘Castle Weasley’ and was about to jump on it when his mum calls for him. He drags his bare feet through the hot sand over to his parents who are chatting with 2 people he doesn’t recognise.

“Fred, George this is John and Nancy, and this is their little girl Y/N.” Molly gestures to the timid girl hiding behind her mum’s leg.

Reluctantly Y/N moves from her previous hiding spot and stares doe eyes up at the twins in front of her. George’s mouth is dry and his palms are clammy, but he doesn’t think it’s from the blistering heat. George Weasley is staring at the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

~~~

It’s been 3 weeks since Y/N’s wedding invitation arrived in the mail and George had shoved it under a pile of bills he was also planning to ignore. Although he doesn’t need to see the invitations to remember the words which were written on the paper ‘kindly join us for the wedding of Y/N L/N and William Chapman. Saturday the seventeenth of April at 11 o’clock.’

It was the 10th of April today, just 7 days till Y/N’s wedding. George felt bile rising in the back of his throat every time he thinks about Y/N marrying someone which wasn’t himself. George has had a crush on the girl ever since he first met her that day on the beach. Back then he only ever saw it as a silly little crush which he hoped he’d eventually get over. But years went on and his crush only grew and grew until it was suffocating. When they reached high school, George planned to tell Y/N about his feelings but chickened out each time, scared of ruining their friendship.

To be honest George always felt (maybe he just hoped) that him and Y/N were meant for each other and sooner or later they’d be together. He held tightly onto this when Y/N started dating William. George was optimistic that William and Y/N’s relationship wasn’t serious and eventually they’d break up and George could finally confess his feelings. All of that went down the drain the second George open up that stupid envelope.

“I ran into Y/N today. At the store,” Fred says carefully trying to gage his brother’s reaction to her name. George just offers a grunt in response, eye staring blankly at the tv in front of him. “she asked about you, wants to know if you’re going to the wedding since she hasn’t heard anything from you.”

George doesn’t reply. Fred just sighs, ”c’mon mate. You’re really not going to go? It’s Y/N we’re talking about here. She’s your best mate.”

George racks his ringers through his already messy hair, squeezing his eyes closed. “That’s exactly why I can’t go. It’s Y/N. How can I sit there and watch Y/N marry some other guy and pretend I’m okay with it?” George feels tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, it’s a wonder he has any tears left to cry.

Fred moves closer to George on the couch, wrapping his arm around his twin who chokes out a sob, “I know buddy, I know it fucking hurts.”

~~~

Since graduating high school George and Y/N made it tradition to catch up once a week if not more so they wouldn’t lose touch. But their newfound busy lives with university and work meant they hadn’t seen each other for a month. They finally found a day that they were both free and decided to meet up for coffee. George had paid for Y/N’s latte while she found them a table by the window. He set their drinks down admiring how beautiful Y/N looked, she was practically glowing.

“So, Y/N what’s new with you? I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” George takes a long sip of his coffee.

George knows Y/N must have some important news for him, judging solely off the smile that she’s failing to conceal. “Well, if you must know. I met someone.”

The colour drains from George’s face and he coughs trying to regain his composure. “Like a boy?”

“Yes a boy silly, his name is William and I met him at the library. It was actually really funny I was turning down one of the aisles and he” George drowns out Y/N’s voice, he can hear his heart thumping in his chest, threatening to jump out.

George knows, he knows it’s his own fault for not telling Y/N how he feels sooner. He knows he doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself, but it doesn’t make this hurt any less. Sweet, kind Y/N, who had gently cradled George’s heart unknowingly since they were 7, has squeezed it between her slender fingers like a stress ball.

“George?” Y/N words break him from his trance.

“That sounds amazing Y/N, I’m really happy for you.”

~~~

It’s Monday and Y/N has been trying to contact George for days with no luck. She ran into Fred last Saturday who said George has just been super busy with work, she didn’t believe it one bit, she needed to find out why George has been ignoring her.

She pushes the store door open and the bell above chimes announcing her arrival.

“Sorry we’re closed for the day!” a voice travels through the store before it’s owner exits the storeroom to see who the culprit is, who clearly cannot read the ‘closed’ sign hanging on the door.

George’s eyes land on Y/N who is standing by the front door unmoving and twiddling with her fingers, playing with an engagement ring that seems out of place on her left hand. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N steps closer, not noticing the way George takes a small step back, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

George doesn’t speak, he’s certain that his voice would be unsteady if he did. Y/N hates the silence, so speaks again, “I’m getting married you know, on Saturday.”

George sucks in a breath, turning his back to fix one of the displays. “Yeah, congratulations,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t know if you got the invitation or not, kind of expected you to call.” Y/N shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, moving so she is standing beside George who is avoiding her gaze. “What’s the matter Georgie?”

George shakes his head, “kind of fast isn’t it? Why the rush to get married to that twat?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, ever since George met William, he made it very clear he didn’t like the bloke. “George stop it. He proposed and I said yes. We figured why wait to start our lives together, y’know? So on Saturday I thought that-“

“-I’m not going.” George’s words felt like a hot knife to Y/N’s chest. When George finally mets her gaze he continues, “I’m not going to the wedding Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because! Because William is a prick and doesn’t deserve you. I can’t sit there and watch you marry some idiot.” George knows his voice is getting louder and that his hands are flailing around but he doesn’t care. “He’s an absolute tosser! You deserve better than William.” You deserve me.

“William has done nothing but love me, George.” The thought of George not being there at her wedding breaks her heart. George was her best friend; how could she not have her best friend at the wedding. “Are you really not going to be there for me?” Y/N’s voice is quiet and timid.

It shatters George to see her so upset and the next words almost kill him.

“No, I won’t be there.”

~~~

Click.

“Okay mum that’s enough photos now!” Y/N giggles trying to hide her face behind her hands.

“Just one more please! George put your arm around her this time.” Nancy says holding the camera up to her face.

George wraps his arm around Y/N waist pulling her closer to him very aware of the way Y/N leans into his side. It’s the night on the school dance and somehow he had gathered enough courage to ask Y/N to go with him, she agreed of course and now they were standing out the front of Y/N’s house in front of the rose bushes while Y/N and George’s parents took photos.

“Okay now one with the four of you together,” Molly says pushing Fred and his date over to the rose bush. The four of them stood together smiling at all the flashing cameras which almost blinded them.

Molly wipes a tear that slips down her cheek, she always got emotional during things like this, “I cannot believe my little babies are growing up. 16 and going to a school dance with their gorgeous dates.”

“Right mum that’s enough, we’re gonna be late,” George groans although he didn’t mind having his arm around Y/N’s middle.

Molly nods agreeing, “right fine! Don’t want to keep you from your dance, have fun!”

Arthur drops the 4 of them off at the school hall reminding them he’d be back at 12 to pick them up.

All 4 of them spend most of the night dancing together and laughing at Fred’s questionable dance moves. Soon the upbeat song comes to an end and a much slowly one started playing. Immediately Fred extends a hand to his date, “m’lady. Care to dance?”

George turns his body to face Y/N who is gazing up at his tall frame, he gulps “Y/N do you wanna dance with me?”

The smile that spreads across her face could light up the room, “yes please.”

For the remainder of the night George and Y/N sway slowly to the music, Y/N moves closer to George until her head is resting against his chest and his arms find their place on her hips.

Y/N can hear George humming to the music above her and she smiles giving his shoulders a small squeeze, then whispers so quietly she’s worried George doesn’t hear her. “I hope we are always best friends Georgie.”

“I promise we will be love.”

~~~

Friday night and George hasn’t spoken to Y/N since she visited the shop. He’s ignored her phone calls and text messages; she came into the shop again on Wednesday, but George locked himself in the backroom telling Fred he had to do stocktake.

George could feel himself falling apart, Y/N was upset with him, Fred was annoyed at his childish behaviour. George felt himself fall deeper and deeper as his heartache and sorrow grew stronger every time he remembered Y/N’s engagement. The only thing which seems to numb his feelings was the alcohol.

At this point George wasn’t sure how much he had had to drink, but the buzz running through his system was better than the bitterness he was feeling before. It had just hit 11:30pm at night and he had finished the last of the tequila from the bottle. With no alcohol to distract his brain his eyes drift over the numerous photo frames he has hanging on the living room wall. His eyes stop at one photo in particular, it’s of him and Y/N from the day at the beach when they were 7. Despite it being the first time the two had met, they looked like they’d known each other since birth. Y/N had been very shy when she was introduced to the twins, but George quickly made her feel comfortable and the day was spent with lots of laughter and smiles. In the photo George and Y/N are stood side by side on the sand, grinning up at the camera. They had just made a huge sandcastle village and were very proud to show off their creation. George’s eyes wander down the photograph to their hands which are tightly intertwined. He bites his lip before stumbling out the front door.

~~~

“Do you ever think about getting married Georgie?” Y/N questions, she’s lying beside George outside on the grass, staring up at the clouds moving above them. They did this a lot, gazing at the sky trying to find the funniest shapes in the clouds.

George is only 12 but he knows exactly who he wants to marry, not that he will admit that.

“No, not really.” George tries not to freak out when he feels Y/N’s hand intertwine with his own, “do you?”

Y/N nods, “yep, I want to marry someone who is funny and will let me eat ice cream for dinner.” She giggles and it makes George’s heart soar, it the 5 years of knowing Y/N it had quickly become George’s favourite sound.

He turns his head to face Y/N, she’s still looking up at the sky, there’s a faint smile on her lips.

“I’m funny.” George isn’t sure what he’s insinuating.

Y/N turns to face him, “you are. Would you let me eat ice cream for dinner?” he nods eagerly.

Y/N purses her lips before smiling, “well then Georgie, maybe I’ll marry you.”

George can only hope that’s true.

~~~

George’s fist hammers against the wooden door. It knows it late and there’s a chance William will answer instead of Y/N but in this moment he doesn’t care. “C’mon Y/N open up! It’s me George.”

The door swings open and Y/N is standing on the other side in a fluffy dressing gown wrapped snuggly around her body rubbing her eyes. “George what the hell are you doing here?” There’s a trace of annoying on her voice, mostly because he’d woken her up but also because she’s been trying to talk to him all week and he decides to show up at her house at midnight the night before her wedding.

“I-um,” George stammers, his words getting stuck in this throat. He has spent practically his whole life wanting to tell Y/N he loves her but never being able to find the words, this time was no exception. So, in George’s alcohol fuelled mind he decides if he can’t use words then actions are the next best thing.

Y/N is staring blanking at the redhead on her porch, eager to know the reason why he’s standing in front of her after ignoring her all week. George timidly steps closer towards Y/N before resting his hands on her cheeks and pressing their lips together roughly.

Y/N is stood frozen on the spot until her hands reach up to rest on George’s chest. She can taste the strong alcohol on Georges mouth, and she’s pulled back to reality and pushing him away. “D-did you just k-kiss me?”

George nods.

Y/N is filled with anger and it starts to bubble up inside of her. “What the fuck George? You’ve been ignoring me all week not answering my calls or texts and-and then you just come here drunk and do that? You can’t come here the night before my wedding and kiss me. It’s not fair!”

George’s shoulders slump, “I’m sorry, I just had to say- that I…” he pauses again, his eyes scanning over Y/N’s face hoping somehow she’s learnt how to mind read.

“What? You had to say what George?” Y/N is aware that she’s yelling but she can’t bring herself to care.

“That I love you.”

Y/N doesn’t speak her brain is running a hundred miles a minute. The silence is unpleasant and unbearable, George looking into Y/N’s eyes trying to read her expression.

“You need to leave,” Y/N utters, her face unmoving.

It’s like George’s feet are glued to the ground, he’s brain is screaming at him to move but he can’t.

“You need to leave George.” Y/N’s voice is firmer this time, “I’m getting married tomorrow and you need to leave right now.”

~~~

George Weasley is an idiot. No, he’s more than an idiot, George Weasley is a dickhead, plain and simple.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he got home, he kept replaying the night over and over. Every time he closed his eyes, he was met with Y/N staring back at him. Except she’s staring with so much disgust it makes George feel sick, he can still hear Y/N’s voice telling him to leave. George Weasley not only managed to lose the life of his life in one night but also his best friend. He feels like a dickhead.

George glances over at the clock next to his bed. 10:30 am. Y/N is getting married in 30 minutes. His chest pains, he thinks he might throw up.

George staggers out of bed and towards the kitchen, he needs water. His journey is interrupted by a harsh knock from the front door. He sighs, he knew Fred would come around to try and convince him to go to the wedding. George figures he couldn’t go to the wedding even if he wanted to, sure that his invitation was no longer valid after last night.

“Fred, seriously I’m not going,” George flings open the door and he almost passes out.

Y/N was standing there looking like an angel, he thinks maybe he died from alcohol poisoning and was actually in heaven. Y/N’s hair was laying loosely across her shoulders, she was wearing a breathtaking white gown which hugged her body perfectly.

George mouth is gaping open his voice coming out breathless and in a whisper, “what-what are you doing here?” He’s half expecting Y/N to slap him across the face for his antics last night.

“I couldn’t do it,” Y/N also whispers, as if this is a secret conversation, only meant for the two of them.

“Why?” George squeaks.

“Because I love you.”

Y/N steps closer and drapes her arms around George’s neck pulling him closer so their foreheads are resting against each other.

As soon as she woke up this morning Y/N felt ill. It wasn’t until she was standing in her wedding dress by the church did she realise why she felt sick. It was because the man that was waiting for her inside the church wasn’t George. Her mum sensed her daughters doubts and offered a comforting hand on her shoulder, “darling, you tell me right now if you want out. I’ll get a car, I’ll sort out this whole thing, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Without thinking Y/N had responded, “I want out mum.” That lead to Y/N zooming away in her dad’s car straight for George’s place.

Y/N gazes into George’s warm and gentle eyes, she felt home, “I love you even though you’re an idiot who waited to tell me you loved me till the night before my wedding to someone else.”

George chuckles, “yeah I guess I am but I’m your idiot.”

#inglourious1kwritingchallenge #George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley Angst #George Weasley fluff #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley one shot #George weasley fanfiction #Writing challenge

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starshine583 · 4 years ago

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New Girl on the Block (10)

(New update coming in and things are getting heated!!! I wonder how our lovely little group’s gonna handle it??)

Ch.1 / Ch.9 / Ch. 11

Chapter 10: Adrenaline Rush

Possible Schools:

Rosemary High

Skyline Academy

Angelwood Institute

Liberty High

Summerfield Academy

Clearwater Institute

A sigh passed through Adrien’s lips as he crossed out the last name on his list, matching it with the other failed attempts. He just didn’t understand. Why was it so hard to find Marinette’s school? All he needed to do was search for high schools in the area and ask the students at each school whether she attended or not. It seemed simple enough at the time, but now another week and a half has gone by, and he’s no closer to finding her than he was two weeks ago when he asked for her school name as Chat Noir.

Adrien set his pencil down and rubbed a hand over his face. He could have sworn she said ‘Rosemary’ last time they talked, but that blonde guy insisted that there weren’t any new students there. Maybe he just hadn’t met her yet? No, that didn’t make any sense. School had already started by then. Adrien assumed the guy would notice if he suddenly had a new classmate.

Ugh. If only he could visit her again.. Between patrol with his lady, akuma attacks, homework, and photoshoots, going out as Chat Noir to see Marinette was nearly impossible. He really needed to have a talk with Nathalie about getting more free time.

“Alya, Marinette is killing me!”

Adrien glanced up from his paper- That’s right, he’s supposed to be working on his own school right now -just in time to see Lila wiping fake tears from her eyes as she walked into the classroom. Although they still had a good five or ten minutes before class started, she was the only who wasn’t currently seated at her desk, and judging by her greeting, Adrien was going to assume that she entered last on purpose.

“What!” Alya gasped, standing up from her desk to meet Lila halfway. “What did she do now?”

Lila sniffed and accepted the comforting hug that Alya offered. “She’s been sending me awful messages all week! Telling me she hates me and insulting me and that I should’ve just stayed in Italy where I belonged.”

Adrien shifted in his seat to hear the conversation better, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Another scheme to slander Marinette’s good name.. Why did Lila still feel the need to lie about her? The ravenette was gone, completely transferred to another school, too far to even breath about Lila’s fabrications. There was no reason to turn their classmates further against her. (if that was even possible at this point)

“She told you what?!” Alya blanched, pulling back to grab Lila’s shoulders. “I can’t believe her! wasn’t sabotaging the forms you needed to be class president enough? Why can’t she leave you alone!”

Adrien resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Now that lie had a reason to it. He knew first hand how thick those stacks of forms can be since he’s helped Marinette carry them a few times, and Lila was obviously too lazy or too unqualified (or both) to sift through all of that mess by herself. What Adrien didn’t understand about the lie, though, was why she had to drag Marinette into it. Again. Why not lie about feeling unwell? Or simply ask for time to adjust to the role that had practically been dumped onto her? Any of those excuses would not only have been easier to say, as they didn’t involve anyone but herself, but they probably would have been accepted just as wholly. So why? It was as though Marinette became a crutch for Lila, which he supposed made sense. Building onto a widely accepted lie would be much simpler than creating a million small lies, but it certainly came with a risk. For example, if Adrien were to, say, kick that crutch right out from under her, she would probably flounder around on the floor with no way to get back up again.

This left Adrien with another important question: How was he going to do it? So far, his friends have been sticking to her like glue and taking in her words like they were given directly from the Bible. On top of that, Alya seems to have become Lila’s official guard dog. How was he supposed to work around that? Adrien couldn’t confront the brunette publicly, because Marinette was proof that that never ended well, and confronting Lila privately didn’t help either, because she would only blow him off again. No, he needed to focus on outing her to his classmates directly, but he also needed to be subtle about it. Which meant..

Which meant he’d have to beat her at her own game.

“That’s crazy!” Adrien piped up, plastering on a surprised and disgusted expression. “Can I see the texts?”

Lila and Alya turned to him, both equally shocked by his comment. He normally kept to himself during conversations about Marinette.

“Oh..” Lila blinked, gathering her thoughts. “I mean, of course! It’s just that.. they’re quite personal, you know.. She said some things that were close to home..”

“We completely understand.” Alya assured.

“Completely,” Adrien agreed, “which is why I want to see how bad it is. Those texts can be considered harassment if you don’t feel safe.”

Alya frowned at him, but a spark arose in Lila’s eyes, one that was no doubt fueled by the thought of getting Marinette into trouble with the law. Adrien would never understand the hatred that Lila harbored for the ravenette, but he definitely knew how to use it to his advantage.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble!” The brunette said with feigned concern. “But.. if you think it will help..”

She made a show of tentatively pulling out her phone and handing it to Adrien. He wasted no time snatching it from her hands and pulling up the texting app. If she was giving him the phone, she most likely had a series of fake texts to back up her story. (and they would be fake. Marinette was too nice to outwardly insult or bully others. Besides, she wouldn’t have the time even if she wanted to, what with her new school, homework, and fashion designs that she needed to tend to.)

Sure enough, he found messages upon messages of insults under the contact name “Marinette”. Things like “You’re only a model because of Gabriel’s pity and charity programs”, “You made our school’s reputation so pathetic that I had to leave”, and “They’ll find out soon that you’re too stupid to be a decent class rep.” were only the tip of the iceberg. Adrien noted the fact that there weren’t any comments about Lila’s looks specifically- she probably couldn’t think of any insults like that herself, since she was obviously so fashionable -but other than, the texts appeared to be authentic.

That is, except for the phone number.

Adrien slid further into his desk and pulled out his own phone to unlock it. A swift comparison between the two contacts proved not only that they had different phone numbers for Marinette, but that the phone number used for the harassing texts was actually the phone number that Adrien had for Lila. She must have texted herself, then deleted the doubles to make it look like a regular conversation between two people. Adrien had to hand it to her, it was a clever set-up.

But not clever enough.

“Wow, this is awful.” Adrien declared, ensuring that both girls along with a few of their other classmates could hear him. “I’m going to text Marinette about this right now. Do you mind if I copy the number from your phone to text her, though? Some of my contacts got deleted a while back.”

Lila’s eyes widened, and panic briefly flickered across her features.

“O-Oh, um- you really don’t have to do that-” She tried to say as she reached for her phone.

Adrien pulled it back up with a smile. “Oh, but I want to! We can’t let Marinette get away with things like this.”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Alya eagerly agreed. “Let him talk to her. That should really pack a punch for Marinette.”

Although the comment was a bit odd, Adrien nodded along, because as long as Alya was on his side, this plan should work perfectly.

“I’m typing in the number to call right now.” He announced, quickly punching in each digit. His only regret in that moment was that he couldn’t see Lila’s expression as he got closer to ‘accidentally’ outing her. However, the sheer panic in her voice was still enough to make his smile widen to a grin.

“No, you can’t!” She nearly shrieked, lunging over Adrien for her phone. If the class’ eyes weren’t on them before, they definitely were now.

“Don’t worry, Lila.” Adrien said innocently as he pressed ‘call’ on the number. “I won’t tell her that you gave me her number.”

As expected, Lila’s phone immediately began to ring. He watched as the blood drained from her features, and she scrambled to turn off the device before it could finish the first ring. It was a decent move, in his opinion, but that didn’t stop the class from staring at her with a mix of surprise, suspicion, and curiosity.

“What was that?” Alya asked, leaning forward to help Lila get off of Adrien, “Was your phone ringing?”

“No, no! It was- uhm -” Lila let out a nervous, little laugh. It’d been so long since she had to fight for her lies to stick that she must have forgotten how to lie on the spot. What a shame.

“That was just a small sound my phone makes when it turns off.” She blurted out. “I must have forgotten to charge it last night.”

Adrien pressed “end” on his call- because obviously he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Lila’s phone off -and glanced around the classroom to gauge their reactions. Those closest to the conversation were warily watching the scene unfold with furrowed eyebrows, doubt clear on their expressions. The farther ones, however, nodded along with what Lila was saying. They probably hadn’t heard most of the conversation beforehand and therefore had no reason to question her.

“Oh,” Alya said, accepting the bullcrap answer as always, “that’s not good. Do you want to use my charger in case you need your phone later?”

Lila offered a sweet smile, stray bits of her confidence floating back to her due to Alya’s reassurance. “Ah, I’m fine. I wouldn’t want to trouble you or anythi-”

A soft rumbling shook the ground, causing the Italian girl to trail off. Adrien turned to the window, his breath catching in his throat as his thumb instinctively brushed over his ring. Was now really the best time?

In the distance, a cloud of dust was rising into the air. He’d seen enough- and done enough -to know that only the mass destruction of buildings could create such a cloud, and the mayor hadn’t informed them of any pre-planned constructions.

“Yes!” Alya cheered, leaping down the classroom steps. Leave it to her to be the only one excited about another akuma attack. “Finally! It feels like we haven’t had an akuma in weeks!”

“Alya, wait!” Nino called after her. He always hated her little escapades.

“Don’t worry,” Adrien said as he stood up, “I’ll take care of her.”

Right after I take care of the akuma.

~~~~~~~~

The little hands of Felix’s black wrist watch ticked away well past 12:30, reminding him of his frustrating failure to set a timer for their lunch period. How could he have forgotten? The notion had to be ingrained into his muscle memory by now. Get up, go to school, burn through the first few classes, set a timer to not waste time, and go to lunch. How did it slip his mind?

“I can’t believe I didn’t ask this sooner,” Allegra remarked as they exited the café, “but what happened to your guys’ faces? I’m pretty sure they weren’t that red before.”

Felix glanced towards Claude and Marinette, the excuse to his forgetfulness finally returning. He’d been in the middle of setting the alarm when he saw their tomato-colored faces in front of the Chemistry lab. The sight must have been enough to throw away all thoughts of setting his alarm as he asked what happened. Nevertheless, Felix still had time to copy down some notes before his next class, and that would suit him just fine for today.

“Oh, man, how have I not told you yet?” Claude snorted. “It was hilarious!”

Marinette let out a light, yet playful scoff next to him. “Define ‘hilarious’.”

The group shared a small chuckle, and Claude jumped into the story of how they- well, how he spilled their chemicals in class. It surely couldn’t have been as interesting as the brunette let on, but Claude always loved to be dramatic. He made voices for Marinette’s comments- which she jokingly took offence towards due to the unrealistically high pitch -and flailed his arms about while explaining how he poured the chemicals into a bag and mixed them. Claude even made a point to throw out his arms while mimicking the sound of an explosion when he got to the part of the story where the chemicals overflowed.

One of those arms happened to smack Felix in the shoulder, which easily brought a glare out of the blonde. If Claude was this energetic now, there was no telling how bad he was going to be during Allegra’s sleepover. In fact, the whole group was probably going to go overboard. Something about sleepovers tended to bring out the most outgoing side of a person, which was why Felix loathed them. He had to sit there and listen to everyone snort and laugh and be loud the entire evening without the comfort that he might be able to leave within an hour or two. It was torture, simply put.

And yet, he decided to go. All for the ludicrous thought that he might be able to ask Marinette more questions about her relations to Agreste and her old school once- or if -the night provided them a moment of privacy. The motivation itself was outright foolish if he were honest with himself. Even if he did acquire a “decent moment” to bring up the subject, she would most likely be uncomfortable talking about it, and dragging a person through the past that they’re deliberately trying to run from isn’t pleasant for anyone involved. That’s why he’s refrained from asking about it again so far.

Felix needed to find some other way to sedate his curiosity towards her. He did.. But how else was he going to find out why an aspiring fashion designer would run from the supposed affections of a top designer’s son? Felix guessed that it might be something like sexual harassment or another, equally disgusting treachery, but then what about the chest of gifts? Where her affections for the model had been clear? What type of fallout must one have with another person to risk their entire dream career just to escape them?

Felix shook his head slightly to push the thoughts out of his mind. He wasn’t going to barrage Marinette with question after question just to stop his mind from constantly turning when it probably wouldn’t stop anyway. Marinette was Marinette. A classmate of his that was kind, clumsy yet capable, overly-generous, determined, weirdly strong for someone of her stature, and a mystery in more ways than one when it came to the life she lived. That was going to have to be enough for him.

“You should have seen it, Allegra.” Claude said with a grin, pulling Felix back to the present. He’d somewhat forgotten that the brunette was even talking.

“It was like the whole bag of Phenol Red just went-”

A large crash erupted to the left of them, followed by a strong gust of wind that pushed them all off of their feet. Felix hit the pavement with a grunt, and Marinette landed on top of him a second later, sucking the rest of the air from his lungs. Screams pierced the air, disorienting him further- why were they screaming? What made the crash? How did it create enough wind to knock them over? -but Marinette sat up immediately. She turned to the source of the crash, tense and ready, as though she already knew what they were dealing with, and Felix couldn’t be more confused. Why did she look like she was about to fight something? (And why did he feel like she would win?)

“Do not be afraid!” A voice yelled over the crowds, drawing Felix’s gaze to a woman standing a few yards away from them. She was dressed in dark and light blues, save for her white elbow-length cloak and her white skirt that appeared to be split into several different pieces of cloth. “I’ve come to help! Not just you, but the world!”

Felix’s eyes widened, an entirely new form of terror taking hold of his body. This wasn’t.. This couldn’t be an akuma, right? She looked different than the ones he’d seen on the news, more human. If it weren’t for her white and dark blue mask and the large fan in her hands that seemed to be controlling the wind, he would have thought that she was a normal civilian merely passing by.

“Our planets have been spoiled by the bigger companies for too long!” The woman continued, even though people ran as she spoke. “It’s time we take matters into our own hands!”

His mind screamed at him to run, to hide, to move, but he couldn’t. His entire being was cemented to the spot in fear of what might happen next. What if this akuma was dangerous? What if her powers possessed people like that Pharaoh themed villain? Or completely killed them like Stoneheart or TimeTagger? Were they going to be her first victims? What if it-

A harsh tug interrupted his reeling thoughts, and suddenly, Felix was back on his feet and running. Running behind Marinette who was pulling them to safety.

“Hurry up, we don’t have much time!” She quietly called over her shoulder. “Let’s hide behind the wooden fence while she’s distracted.”

Felix had enough sense to look ahead of them, where a small, wooden fence that held the cafe’s menu was placed. It wasn’t hard to notice under normal circumstances, but how did Marinette think of hiding there while the akuma was right behind them? How was she not paralyzed by the very idea of being caught?

“I’m going to destroy some stores around here, but only to get the heroes’ attention!” The akuma explained as the group scrambled passed the fence and pressed their backs against the wood. “Once I have the miraculous, I will restore everything to its rightful place, I promise!”

Felix tried to slow his rapid, shallow breaths as he sank further against the fence. She was going to destroy buildings? How many? Were they going to get hit with the debris? Where were the heroes that he’d heard so much about? Shouldn’t they be doing something about all of this?

“What do we do?” Claude whispered, panic clear in his tone as well. None of them had ever seen an akuma attack before. Well, none of them except Allan, but he’d been watching through a store window a safe distance away.

“Should we call the police?” Allegra nearly squeaked, tentatively reaching for her bag to pull out her phone. “They help with stuff like this too, right?”

“No need.” Marinette said. She was on the left side of Felix now, staying close to the edge of the fence and carefully peeking around it. “The police have akuma alerts on their phones to tell them when attacks happen. They're already on their way, I’m sure.”

Felix stared down at her with furrowed eyebrows, completely baffled by the lack of panic in her demeanor. This was the same girl who stumbled and stuttered to ask him for a pencil during class! Yet here she was, taking charge and giving orders and speaking perfectly. It was like she was a completely different person! How was that even possible?

“Alright,” The ravenette spoke, turning back to them with a deathly serious gaze, “I’m going to run out and get her attention. While I’m doing that, you guys need to run as far away from here as you can and find a good basement to hide in until this is over.”

“What?” The group practically gasped in unison. She wanted to face the akuma alone?!

“Marinette, you’re not going anywhere!” Allegra insisted. “It’s not safe out there!”

“It’s less safe if we stay here.” She replied, moving to step out into the open.

Felix grabbed her wrist to yank her back. What was happening right now?

“Are you insane?” He hissed unintentionally. “You can’t go out there! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Yeah, she’s not after us.” Allan agreed. “Only the buildings. Let’s just all run out of here together.”

Marinette glanced back at the group. “But there are still people in those buildings. I need to lure her to an empty street or at least stall until the heroes get here. If I don’t, people are definitely going to get hurt or worse.”

Felix’s grip on Marinette’s wrist tightened. He hadn’t thought about the crowds of people who were running inside for cover, but even so, what would she be able to do alone? The akuma was a powerful being, and they were merely civilians in the crossfire. What’s stopping it from crushing Marinette beneath its boot at the slightest whim? Who’s to say the akuma would even listen to Marinette if she did get its attention?

“We’re not letting you sacrifice yourself for an extra second of time.” He told her. “Like you said, the police are on their way, which means the heroes will be here soon too. Let them handle it.”

A strange mix of urgency and frustration flickered across her features, and she tugged against his grip. “Felix, please, we don’t have time to argue-”

“I think I’ll start with this darling café.” The akuma crooned. “That should get some attention.”

The café walls crumbling apart was Felix’s only warning before the gust of wind made it to their little hide-out. It splintered the wood within seconds, and the group went flying, once again, into the pavement.

Felix groaned as he pushed himself to his knees. How many times were they going to get thrown around? At least Marinette didn’t land on him this time.

Marinette.

The realization that Marinette was no longer with him washed over Felix like a bucket of ice cold water, and his gaze snapped upwards. He started to yell for her, but it was too late. Marinette was already on her feet, somehow recovering faster than all of them, and running towards the akuma head on. He could only watch in abject horror as she called out to it.

“Hey, airhead!” She yelled. “Do you really think this is the smartest plan?”

The akuma rounded on Marinette in an instant, and Felix sucked in a breath. No, no, no, no, what was she doing?

“My name is ‘Whirlwind’, thank you very much,” The woman snapped, “and I think it’s a brilliant plan. Do you think you can do something better?”

“Of course.” Marinette replied, crossing her arms. “If you’re already destroying buildings, why not go and destroy the big companies that you’re after in the first place? It’d be much more productive, don’t you think?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. Didn’t she say that she wanted to avoid public places?

Whirlwind hummed. “Well, yes, but with all of the major hotels and tourist spots, it’s hard to tell which buildings to destroy, and I don’t have time to look.”

“I’ll show you where they are.” Marinette offered. “Think about it, destroying a big, company building is sure to attract more attention than taking down a little café, right?”

Whirlwind narrowed her eyes as she thought it over, and a part of Felix desperately hoped that she would decline Marinette’s suggestion. A bigger part of him prayed that the police or the heroes or somebody showed up to stop this before Marinette went too far.

“Alright.” Whirlwind smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. It’s nice to see someone else interested in saving the environment.”

With a flick of her fan, Whirlwind gathered a gust of wind around Marinette, causing the ravenette to rise into the air. She then gave herself a gust of wind, which caused her white skirt to start spinning around her. If Felix wasn’t going pale with dread over what might happen to his classmate, he would have found the unique fashion choice to be humorous, as it almost reminded him of a box fan.

Allegra let out a horrified shriek, one that rattled Felix to his bones. This was really happening. Marinette was really being carried off by some maniac in a costume. What were they going to do? What could they do? Gosh, where were the heroes?

Felix grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet. He couldn’t just stand there and watch her be kidnapped or he’d never be able to look her in the eyes afterwards.

That’s right, he told himself. The heroes were going to win, and she was going to be just fine.

Those thoughts didn’t stop him from sprinting after the akuma, though, even as the trio called after him to stop, even as the akuma rose higher into the air, out of his reach. Marinette couldn’t do this by herself, and although Felix’s presence probably wouldn’t make much of a difference either, he’d be darned if he didn’t try to help.

“Don’t worry,” He huffed, comforting himself more than her as he darted through alleyways to keep up with them, “I’m right behind you.”

Tag list: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx

#felinette #Rosemary AU #Quantic Kids #Marinette #Felix Culpa #New Girl on the Block

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supercorp-hosie · 4 years ago

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My thoughts for Legacies 316: (here we go again😂)

(I’m combining after thoughts with live thoughts)

1) The soundtracks for this episode are amazing, they fit very well even for Finsie that I heard that a lot of people were complaining on Reddit.

2) I finally get my team Sowanby! I just feel so much from them! They kind of make a great team, but please, do not go on another heist again. You both sucks at that! The holes are, the museum don’t have a fucking alarm for Leonardo DaVinci’s work? Are you kidding me? And Landon beating the shit out of the guard but not putting him out first is so dumb. The worst is Cleo calling Landon’s name so loud, I can’t😂😂😂😂😂😂 you don’t want people to be on your back when you have the Malivore threat going on guys! And ha! You guys are on the headline! That’s why I really feel like these supernaturals are so outdated and solidified from modern technology, even in 2030! Are you going to tell me everything technology will still be the same like now?? Come on, there’ll be cameras watching everywhere. Like they can see Cleo using magic! I need my Trimini (or bridge) coven and Hope starting to integrate the supernatural world with the modern world. About Trimini and Hope future career, click here.

3) the line about “many who shaped it are never acknowledged” I stand! After that, about the key card my random thoughts were about Landon being the one that stole the key card😂 just out of the blue and I’m proven wrong though.

4) Landon bonding with Cleo!!!! They thought the same way, and “I can promise that anyone that have to get to you, they have to get to me” is so strong! But the scene after, is the moment I started really doubting Landon, the look is too alarming. But there are still Sowanby scenes😭😭😭 and the melted heart mud... I mean I genuinely believed that the spell didn’t work because Landon is also mud himself. But in hindsight it is horrific, like the serial killer is just standing next to you but and the signs are right in front of you.

5) Malivore mud being artistically friendly! I can’t haha! Oh and when Holarke walked on Sowanby inspiring moment🤣🤣🤣I can’t, they act like both of them are cheating on one another it’s hilarious. Thank you for acknowledging each other Holarke and Sowanby🤣. By now, I should have known that’s MaliLandon. It’s humiliating because Holarke and Sowanby got me so happy that I didn’t see the clues lmao! Because there’s this line: “Following the footstep of the Renaissance greatest man? ” but this thing, Cleo only did it with Leonardo, with whom she slept with......

6) And damn, after that, I felt like a FOOL, CLOWN, WHATEVER after that! All I have for team Sowanby is fake 🙃🙃🙃🤡🤡🤡 Anyway we still have to admit that the promise still stand true right, cuz it’s literal.🤣🤣🤣 MaliLandon fulfills his promise by eating Cleo. TYPICAL.

7) Holarke! Clarke is still handsome as ever😍. We can see his presence is clearly affecting Josie and making Hope giving him information. Can we talk about how cute is he sleeping soundly here?

8) Lizzie being the only unaffected queen here. AND IT’S FINALLY LIZZIE’S TURN FOR “AD SONNUM” I can totally see her pleasantness in doing that to somebody after being on the receiving end🤣🤣🤣 Josie and Hope had done it before so now we actually see her doing it. I somehow feel completed.

9) The look Hope and Josie shared. Hosie!

10) Josie is going to be the death of me! I like her look. And how the camera moving upward gosh! And I’m totally digressing here, what is a razzleberry? And what is a slush? I have no idea what they are, I just feel like tasting what she tasting now. Lizzie’s line, crashing and splashing😂 Am I colour blind? Cuz I really can’t tell whether Hope is wearing dark blue or dark green 😅 if it’s green, then the traffic lights colour are back again lol. If blue, then Hosie matching clothes! Did Finsie ever have matching colours? I’m just wondering.

11) Hosie scene! They talked about how seeing Clarke traumatised Josie~~ damn and Josie says traumatised is her permanent resting state. I mean even on her birthday she was buried alive lmao. And Hope wants to help Josie stop the traumas by sacrificing herself to defeat Malivore, like by literally dying. Which she didn’t want because she didn’t want to live forever.

12) Holarke scene again! I love all those banters and their dynamics😂😂 how Hope is the only one that trusts Clarke now. The mimic spell! It’s their thing😍😍. Oh it totally surprised me that Clarke isn’t mud man anymore. I’m really happy for him, because he finally break himself out of the abuse! It seems like triad is totally gone?? But I still kind of think that there may be something more? And Clarke’s reaction to Hope opening the artefact! 🤣🤣🤣 and the way that Clarke sensed the familiarity with Cleo! Yea boy, she’s the inspiration to the creation of you.

13) Clarke keeps calling Hope and Landon kids🤣 how’s the feeling of getting kid!Hope kicking your ass and saving you😂😂😂 oh she’s totally your equal. Frenemies at best! YES! I love Holarke bonding. And the fact that Clarke being Hope inspiration to believe in friendship and her family now can help her to defeat Malivore, I Stan! Don’t lose sight of the corner! Josie! Lizzie! Clarke! Yes you have them! I’m glad that Clarke didn’t die, I’ll be so mad because the writer would be bringing him back for nothing. Oh the incendia is painful, affecting me more than the fake looking MaliLandon eating Cleo. The height difference again🤣 with Holarke this time.

14) I love Maleb clothes, not really shipping them just short form for their bromance😂 but I do enjoy if there suggests shipping cuz it’s fun! Love that them being supportive of each other, superheroing, and the hero name🤣🤣they’re clueless too. Poor Kaleb and Cleo. I really need his backstory 😫

15) about hero names, I’m still having playback of “blursome and essential” in my mind. MG is looking at the mask longer than Kaleb, I feel like he’s missing Ethan, like a lot. Another thing is, since we see the effect of someone else being compelled so clearly, but we never seen Ethan’s compelling effects. Or it’s a budget matter? They must be kidding right? So maybe Ethan is really faking it? So that leads us to Lethan....

16) if my suspicion is true, then damn, Ethan is using Lizzie to get into SBS? I’m worried for Lizzie’s wellbeing. Also the look on Josie when Ethan drives near tight after she said like some eligible will fall out of the sky🤣🤣🤣 the timing is impeccable lmao. For real, Lizzie wanting Ethan to be Hope’s rebound after her kiss with him in the trio imagination, is ....so the trio is now sharing guys now? Jandon is still there in the history! It’ll be like a very messing love multi-triangle😌😌😌

17) the way Lizzie talked about how Hope is perfect the whole way and judging by the day when they arrived at SBS? That’s very long! Lmao, Lizzie are you sure you’re not in love with Hope? Hizzie rights! (I don’t even know when I started to ship Hizzie, it’s a mystery🤣) I think I can only talk like that about my love. Why don’t you make you and your sister Hope’s rebound? I’ll be happy with what I get🤣

18) The decision to bring Ethan on a tour, is so bad. What if ethan ended up enrolling SBS and Alaric can’t deny the application? Did she ever think of that?? And Josie and Mg is going to face the consequences in the near future🤣 dreadful! From there I already felt the cliche sweetness that when you’re trying to be a wingwoman and ended up “selling” yourself out🤣🤣 fuck CW for cutting the scenes of Lizzie’s epic facial expression when she was slapped with her own words😂😂😂anyway, it’s no way she can refuse the ask out after 315 where Lizzie still thinks that she can’t be the chosen one when Hope is there, but someone actually chooses her even after all the Hope is perfect speech. As much as I mourn for Methan and Mizzie, I’m happy that she got someone to tell her that. But I think they’re destined to backfire😅

19) so does the Mizzie “will they won’t they?” officially end here? I’m confused. Btw it’s really a way to mention Sebastian’s death being relocated permanently 🤣 oh wait...she knew that that prison world is destroyed forever right????? Someone save me.

20) okay I have to go back before Ethan picked the twins up: while Lizzie is actually worrying about themselves being stranded, Josie is just more concerned about Hope? Hosie! Poor Josie, she never sees that she is Hope soft spot and can totally make Hope happy too. Look at your dumb joke at 103, Hope’s laugh is magnificent too. It’s because of you. And yes I’m with Josie, I just ship Hope with herself and her axe right now, don’t put her with anyone for at least 5 more episode please.

21) The one that doesn’t dissolve into goo! Now is Clarke! And the both of you my dear twins. Btw, the dna thing, where Clarke confirms that dna is still toxic... so it applies to Landon too right? And it’s now just more overwhelmingly apparent that handon sex is without protection. Yea so much for epic love. And this is about the possibility where (hopefully) it’s not MaliLandon when the sex scene happened.

22) Finsie time! I got to say, it’s really improving. Their scene is beautiful, finally. That feeling that they’re nice together is now going on continuous for me. I’m happy for them! They are now stepping up on Hosie, not derogatory, I’m just seeing some parallels from hosie here. The disclose of Ethan broken arm, where Hosie has done, before that there’s Clarke’s traumatising Josie thing with Hosie. Next, the focus on the hand holding, I’m thinking of 207 and others. The “me being here with you”, with hosie 308 “then I’ll be here with you”. The whole thing is very comforting for Josie. The hug is good too. We can see that they finally have some nice scene and the bgm is good for them.

23) I have no idea what is magical agronomy, so I look it up. Again, that shows how Josie love plants, like someone in Reddit said they observed that Josie’s side of room has several plants. And in 307, the herbs, that she remembers. I think it can help a lot if Hope is starting a magical technology company. Josie’s interest in that can come in handy. They’ll make a great team. About TRIMINI INDUSTRIES tap here.

24) we are still missing Jed here. Justice for Jed. We need Jed real first name. Did anyone notice when the super squad faces MaliLandon there’s no werewolf present? They’re really downplaying that huh? But maybe I can be satisfied that they are not making Finch being there but not Jed.

25) We need to address this thing about Handon. It’s like one and a half time that Hope couldn’t recognise that Landon is not Landon right? We still have to give credits to her memories shared with Cleo actually make Cleo kind of recognise the difference? So half a time. I agree with Josie’s words that Landon makes Hope happy. I mean, yes, most of the time they failed in working but there’s still sweet scenes between them. So that’s actually what makes Handon tolerable. They are what makes me only do facepalm rather than skipping them. So yes of course Hope has happy moments with Landon. Just that it doesn’t mean that they’re good together.

26) it’s always Landon’s bros that first find out Landon wasn’t Landon😂 this time is Clarke. It’s Clarke that tell Hope, “Landon will never leave you”. That’s the inconsistency of the writers, not counting MaliLandon’s time, it’s still two times. And there’s time that some will argue that Landon’s feet literally walk away from Hope. So...that’s not true, do not stuff that in our throat anymore. “I always thought you two are destined to be together” is this the writer way of saying they’re not doing Handon anymore or otherwise? Cuz “thought” is past tense and “are” is present tense. I’m tired. It’s normal that Hope still wants Landon to be happy and still love him. But after the breakup, when she still doesn’t know that it’s MaliLandon, the “still dying to get Landon again” is obsession. Girl, it’s derogatory to your self-esteem. “If a mud man like me can beat his fate, maybe you kids can too” yea that’s Handon going on.

27) we shouldn’t need to be told that Handon is epic love multiple times. We should be able to feel them, see them ourselves. Why did I start approving Finsie now, because instead of them being only all talking and no showing, now we see them working well (until now). I have been widely accepting to any other legacies ships and why I never ship Handon? So really these multiple telling us that how good is Landon to Hope, is not working. I’ve never been so frustrated.

28) Let’s appreciate the Handon parallel with 101. It’s interesting that how Landon is inside the cage and Hope is outside the cage again. The meaning of the cage has deep meaning here. Handon first kiss is in the cage, that kind of mean that their love is trapped there. Like how their relationship being so troublesome and bound by these fateful encounters. The lights are quite similar, handon always has this blue lighting for them, which sometimes it’s kind of weird. The first time it is Hope decorating the ceiling with stars for Landon. It’s sweet, but also implying that what Handon has is the false beauty of them and not keeping the cage symbolism in mind. In other way of interpreting it, this is the writer foreshadowing their endgame. Cuz they’re trapped there, no way in no way out.

29) I think I’m not the only one bothered by the mostly lack of real Landon appearance in s3. As we can see how MaliLandon words sits so right about, Landon not belonging to SBS if it weren’t Hope. Then he leaves with Cleo, that’s a thing for Sowanby too, they still don’t have roots with the school, and it’s a great bonding between them, friendship or not. It’s the bond between them that matter. In 314 315, we always see that the students were totally fine without Landon. Like the three trios paralleling? It’s sad that Landon is like bouncing here and there in SBS but never really belong. And now the writers kind of ripped his personal development. So now he has neither his pheonix powers nor fighting skills, great? And even Hope’s growth too. We are seeing her moving to a good direction and the writers have to drag her back in the hell hole. Hope needs to not always looking at Landon for her happiness, it’s not good for the both of them. Like MG said, be your own person.

30) THEORIES regarding Landon: a) It’s MaliLandon all the way? I hope not, it’s reminding me of Lost Girl that one of the characters slept with the father personating the person she loves, and got pregnant. Tell you what was more alarming? When the episode ended, I was recommended to move on to Lost Girl on CW seed. It’s disgusting! Why do you want to help make me hate Handon? I don’t even hate them initially! I’m like struggling to be logical and lean on the positive side here. Why I can’t move on from this possibility: first, I’ve always headcannon that Malivore has partial control over Landon. Like how Landon actually wasn’t lying in 102 103? That’s Malivore. And Handon, as genius as always, doesn’t talk about it. Second, the way that Landon dissolved, he was human back then, but he turns into goo? how does it even work? If he is human, toxic to dna will make him die, not become goo, right? Even if that wasn’t a problem, it can also be MaliLandon trying his luck. Third, Malivore purpose is to make the perfect legacy, he will totally give it a try to make tribrid-Malivore babies. Fourth, during the inspiration from Cleo, MaliLandon has Landon’s memories, enhancing the theories that Malivore has partial control over Landon, so even if it wasn’t MaliLandon, it’s still partial-MaliLandon. Fifth, after the inspiration, MaliLandon said that he doesn’t need Hope to tackle his problem or for his purposes, which means he initially wanted Hope, thinking getting to Hope can help with his purposes. It’s really not a far-fetched.

31) THEORIES regarding Landon: b) it’s real Landon during sex, but Malivore got him in the prison world. While having Landon’s personal growth ripped and Handon still dragging out are not pleasant at all, this is still a more pleasant theory for me. At least Landon did start fighting for himself after sometime, and while the sex is still partial-MaliLandon, at least it’s not MaliLandon. (I’m always using at least for Handon 🙃) maybe we can still have Landon fighting skills? Cuz I was happy for him about this though. But I just don’t think so. The evidence for this theory is, my feeling about Landon in 306 is that it kind of fits Landon personality, but he did start his violence there. Another thing is the letter. There’s care in “to whom it may concern”. However, that can be just me being simp. And there’s also possibilities that the partial control from Malivore is cultivating Landon’s behaviour starting there and slowly taking control. Because making a deal with the devil always has its consequences. It’s either that or Landon was taken after the letter.

32) regarding the picture above, i just want to point out about another interesting point about the structure of the scene, if you scroll back and see sowanby picture with the door and another bonding talk, you can se that there’s always pillar and frames that’s framing or trapping them together. Like Handon. I mean that’s totally MaliLandon, so this pointing out is not mean to be romantic. It’s just a thought about how devastating that Cleo is stuck in something her whole life, especially the picture structure that implies that she’s stuck with MaliLandon again.

33) overall I’m thinking this is a good and disgusting episode. With all the unexpected twist, it’s really good, there’s actually layers in showing us that Landon is not Landon every time. Then those bonding. The soundtrack, the scenes. Disgusting, is about the theory, and how we are all tangled back to Handon again after we finally have some fresh air. Not to mention the always surprisingly convenient that Landon always has an excuse when we see Landon did something bad to Hope. Like he can never be making big mistake while only having little questionable doings that can’t possible tarnish him being the perfect person in the show. The first time he lies, Malivore controlled him. During the pageant competition, he is justified to walk away when he totally chose the wrong timing to ask that question, leaving Hope alone breaking in front of such important event. 207, monsters are coming for him, he’s protecting people by leaving. Musical episode, he needs to cross boundaries because it’s bound to be, without further reasoning it with Hope, when Hope specifically was very respectful of him in 111 about his songs. And now, this. That’s not him, we can’t blame him. He will never be blame for something big because the writers is biased. Very biased in making that Landon is better than anyone else in the show, so he’s the perfect guy for Hope. Like no one can compare with him. He’s almost perfect. Perfect than Hope.

34) Reflect on what Hope did in 308, MG is kind of right, she shouldn’t have touched it without fully prepared. Because it totally let Malivore running out free instead of him being an originally contained problem. It’s for the good view in whole. Heroes make hard decisions. There’s still the hair thing cut from Hope and Golem!Landon.

These pictures is my work, while it’s easy to get it yourself, and not that I’m professional in doing this. But I still did screenshot them one by one and did some editing. So please like or label the sources when you save or use it. ♥️

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slasherbastard · 4 years ago

Note

“I deserve to rot.” “It never mattered anyway.” And “You’re supposed to be yelling at me! And… and hitting me! Why aren’t you doing that?!” (Platonic) With a happy ending for a young-teen slasher reader? Billy and Stu plz 👉👈 love your storys

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of violence, Word count: 2950 Notes: Sorry this took forever to write also it’s the longest prompt i’ve written

You sat down beside Billy on Sidney's bed and tried to hand him a glass of water which he refused, you sighed and set the cup down. You were never close with Sidney Prescott despite her being in your "friend group" but you wanted to be there for your best friend Billy since his girlfriend was just murdered by a lunatic in a cheap Halloween costume. The two of you had been hiding in his ex-girlfriend's room since the two of you arrived at the wake, Billy spent almost the entire time silent while you sat beside him just trying to keep him company while he grieved.

You knew that he blamed himself for Sidney's death and you didn't know if being here would be good for him but he wanted to be here, to see her room one last time. You watched as he stood up and walked over to her desk and fumbled with something on it before muttering something you nearly didn't hear. "I deserve to rot."

Your expression softened as you looked up at him. "Billy, no you don't-"

"Yes I do." He raised his voice and turned to face you. "I'm the reason she died, I- I could've saved her." He stopped once he realised what he'd just said and covered his mouth as his eyes glossed over with tears and you quickly stood up and pulled him in for a hug, he cried into your shoulder as you rubbed his back and said nothing, just letting him let out his emotions before the door opened and Stu walked in.

"I thought I'd find you guys in here." Stu spoke quietly, he came over and sat on Billy's right side. "How're you holding up?"

"Well, my girlfriend is dead, and you couldn't have arrived any later." He scratched his eye and stepped away from you, looking at the two of you. "We should get going, I just want to get this over with." Billy grabbed his coat that was hanging over the chair at the desk and didn't wait for the two of you as he walked out to his car. Stu looked at you.

"What is it?" Stu asked, sitting down on the bed.

"He still blames himself for her death, you know?"

"Yeah, Sid really meant a lot to him but he'll be fine."

"I don't know, Stu. I'm just worried that he's going to do something regrettable."

Stu shook his head, you swore he tried to hide a smile. "He'll be fine, trust me."

You just nodded in response and the two of you exited the house, finding Billy leaning against his car smoking. When he saw you he chucked his cigarette on the floor and stomped on it before getting into the car. The ride to the church was silent except for the sound of the radio playing quietly and Stu humming along in the backseat, the car slowed to a stop outside the church next to multiple news vans and other cars. People dressed in black filed into the church, Billy didn’t move. “Billy? We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

“No I do it’s just that-” He ran a hand through his hair. “- I have to, I was her boyfriend. Uh, just, I’ll catch up with you guys, I’m just going to talk to daddy dearest.” He pointed at Mr. Loomis who was not so subtly eying the car, you and Stu stepped out of the car and began walking up to the church.

You turned your head to see Billy stepping out of the car and walking over to talk with his father before you and Stu entered the church and found a free row at the back and sat down, throwing your coat down in the space beside you for Billy. “I’ve never been to a funeral before.”

Stu looked at you. “Really? Well don't get too excited, someone just died." you rolled your eyes and scanned the room in the hopes you'd find someone who looked familiar but instead you just saw a bunch of your high school peers who you knew Sid never talked to, Stu caught onto this. "Yeah, I think about 10 people here actually knew Sid, the rest are just fans."

"Fans?"

"Yeah, a lot of these people are just here so they can say 'hey, I went to Sidney Prescott's funeral', and then there's mostly people who idolise the guy who killed her because they think he's a hunk underneath that costume. There are people out there who actually think the killer's hot. I mean, how messed up is that?" Stu laughed and a few seconds later Billy slid into the seat beside you and thanked you.

"What did your father want?"

"Oh he asked me if I had prepared that eulogy for the funeral. . .which I didn't." Billy ran a hand through his hair and looked around as Mr. Loomis walked in, making eye contact with him for a few seconds before finding his own seat. You turned to Billy and gently touched his arm, he looked down at you and you went to talk but the sound of feedback filled the room. You looked forward and saw a woman apologising and holding a microphone.

She introduced herself as Sidney's aunt and Neil's sister, she was the first of many people to give their speeches about Sidney. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a family member finished their eulogy about Sidney and stood in front of the podium. "Now I would like Billy Loomis - Sidney's boyfriend - to come up, Billy?" Billy stood up and awkwardly walked up to the front of the hall and got behind the podium, pulling out a folded piece of paper and unfolding it and looking at the crowd of people.

"Sidney. Sidney, Sidney, Sidney, where do I start with you?" Billy sighed. "Alright, I have to admit that this is just a blank piece of paper." Billy held the paper up and flipped both sides to the audience sitting below him as if he was a magician, an awkward silence filled the room. Billy awkwardly coughed and stuffed the paper into one of the pockets on his suit and apologised before continuing. "Sidney would've laughed. She was truly something, you know she didn't deserve this. I just wish I could go back to that night and save her. It just- it repeats in my head over and over and it haunts me. All I can see is her face and her voice- oh, her voice. I'd give so much just to hear her voice one more time or hold her. I just miss her so much." Billy bit his lip as his eyes began to water, he recomposed himself and continued his speech. "Sidney was such a beautiful person. I remember this one time when we were together. We were watching this horror movie together and there's this part where one of the characters gets possessed and he's just being thrown around the room, but she pauses it and turns to me and she starts talking about how she wants a future with me." Billy paused as scattered sobs filled the audience. "She didn't deserve any of this and I mean this with all due respect but whoever kill you, Sids, I'm going to fucking-"

“Okay that’s enough, Mr. Loomis.” The person who announced him pulled him away from the podium and Billy joined you and Stu again in the back of the church as one of Sidney’s relatives stood up to give her speech. Billy sat down looking surprisingly calm despite his short outburst, some people were still turning back to offer judging and amusing glances at him.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He looked forward for a few seconds then looked at you, speaking in a hushed voice. "Hey, wanna ditch this? Grab Stu and meet me outside." He didn't wait for a response before getting up and leaving. Stu looked really confused and was about to ask about what happened but you shut him up by grabbing his arm and pulling him up, practically dragging him out of the building.

You both caught up to Billy as he was getting into his car and you noticed that he was acting completely different from how his was this morning let alone just a few minutes ago, it was as if he'd forgotten what'd happened or maybe he didn't care. You and Stu got in and Billy turned the radio up as loud as he could and barely let you put on your seatbelt before driving.

To be honest you were worried and a bit too scared to ask him what was going on. You would've asked Stu but he was back to his old goofy self and encouraging Billy's reckless behaviour so you decided to keep quiet and let Billy take you guys to wherever pleased him. Eventually you guys just ended up at a 7/11 - you were expecting a cliff or maybe a ditch but you were glad that you were alive. The three of you got out and Billy threw his arms around yours and Stu's shoulders as the three of you walked in and got a few questioning looks from the other customers.

Stu broke apart from your little group and began hunting down snacks in the snack aisle while you and Billy went straight to the slushie machines. "Hey, Billy? What was all that before?"

"What'cha mean? Oh, Cola or Raspberry?"

"Raspberry. I mean, you were devastated and now we're here." he began filling up two plastic cups and waited until they were full before handing them both to you.

"Eh, it never mattered anyway. Hey, go hand this to Stu and make sure he's not being an idiot." you took them and went to find Stu who from over the shelves, looked like he was one wrong move away from dropping all the crap he was holding. Still you were very confused about Billy's reaction but you assumed he was just having a mood swing to cope with Sidney's death. You glanced back at him before walking into the snack aisle and laughing at how stupid Stu looked.

"A little help here?"

"Sorry, my hands are full." You held up the two slushies and Stu ended up dropping everything on the floor. "Jeez, let me put these on the counter then I'll come help you." You shook your head while biting back a smile and found the front counter and set the drinks down as Billy passed you holding another cup. "Stu's in trouble." You laughed as you followed him to see Stu trying to pick up all the stuff he dropped plus a few extra chocolate bars from the shelf.

"At least you didn't drop the soda. Fuck, the soda." Billy dumped all the stuff he was holding and went to grab a 24 pack of coca cola cans, Stu giving him an 'are you joking' look and rolling his eyes as he picked up the rest of the snacks.

You helped them clean up the mess and ended up only buying 3 bags of chips and 12 candy bars instead of 20 bags of chips and 17 candy bars like Stu had originally planned, paid for them all and left. You got into the car and threw all the bags of snacks into the back for Stu to 'guard' and took a sip of your drink as Stu and Billy stood outside and talked.

A few minutes later they both got into the car. "Y/N, do you want to stay over tonight"

"Yeah, sure." You nodded and noticed Billy and Stu grinning at each other through the rear view mirror, not thinking much of it as Billy started the car and pulled out of the gas station.

"Thanks for staying here tonight."

"Yeah it's good." You said as you caught a pillow Billy threw at you and dropped it on top of the spread out blankets on the couch. "Are you sure your dad's cool with me staying over?"

"Yeah, he's working late tonight anyways."

Stu dumped all the snacks on the coffee table and ran into the kitchen to grabbed 3 cans of cola and fell onto your makeshift bed. "Okay so what are we watching first? We got Day of the Dead, Re-animator, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, or The Funhouse." Billy threw you another pillow which you immediately whacked Stu with, causing him to fall off the couch, you dropped down onto the couch and grabbed a bag of chips but Stu grabbed it before you could open them. "These are for the movie marathon." He stuck a finger up at you to wave in your face but you just kicked in and grabbed the chips off him again and opened the bag.

Billy rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the movies off the table and stuck it into the tv and sat beside you as the movie loaded on screen while Stu pulled himself off the floor and grabbed one of the coca cola cans and popped it open, taking a sip.

About two movies into the marathon the three of you ended up passing out but you were the first to wake up. Checking the time it was only 10:31PM and you really needed to use the bathroom so you got up and jumped over Stu's body and walked upstairs and found the bathroom and did your business. You came out of the bathroom and was about to go back downstairs when you noticed that Billy's bedroom door was opened and your curiosity got the better of you as you peaked downstairs and saw that the two guys were still asleep and creeped into the bedroom.

Billy's room was exactly what you'd expected it to be, some band posters on the wall above his bed and a messy room. You don't know what you wanted to see, maybe a naughty magazine loosely hidden under his bed, maybe a bottle of alcohol. You shrugged and went to leave his room when you noticed something behind his door and opened it to see a small pile of black material.

You opened the door and stuck your head out again before closing it and picking up the material which you were certain was just a shirt he forgot to throw in with the rest of his dirty laundry, but instead a knife fell out. It made a semi-loud noise as it hit the hard wood floor and you covered your mouth and hoped that it didn't wake up Billy or Stu - Billy especially. You went to pick up the knife but then you felt something else hidden in the fabric and turned it over to see a white mask, this is a Father Death costume, the same one used in the Woodsboro murders.

This could mean one of two things, Billy was another one of those losers who terrorises random people for fun, or he actually killed Sidney, and you really hoped he was just a loser. You quickly dropped the costume on top of the knife and kicked it into the corner where you found it and exited the bedroom and you were about to go back downstairs but then you realised that you needed answers so you grabbed the costume and knife and hid it behind your back with one hand and headed downstairs.

Billy and Stu were still asleep. "Wake up." You half-yelled, Stu managed to wake up while Billy stayed still, lightly snoring. Stu rubbed his eyes and looked at you before realising that something was wrong. He tried to get up but you held your free hand up and he began hitting Billy's chest, waking him up after a few hits.

"What is time it?" The two of them were still trying to wake up when you bit your lip and held up the mess of black fabric and the knife and their faces both dropped and turned pale at the same time. You dropped the contents onto the floor and without skipping a beat you walked for the front door. You didn't get far before Billy grabbed you and forced you to look at him. "Y/N, I swear it's not what it looks like."

"You killed her." You said quietly, Billy let go of you but you didn't really react. He expected anything from screaming to attacking but you just stood there, confusing him.

"I don't understand, you’re supposed to be yelling at me! And… and hitting me! Why aren’t you doing that?”

"Well, I'm just trying to make this easy for you. If you want to kill me, then do it."

Now Stu had stood up and was watching the two of you, Billy bit the inside of his cheek. "We're not going to kill you, Y/N." He took a step closer to you and you took a step back. "Y/N, please. We have no reason to hurt you, think about that. I only killed Sid of her mother." He took another step towards you but this time you didn't move.

You didn't know what you wanted or if you could trust either of them. Billy got closer and gently pulled you in for a hug, slowly wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand in your hair and rubbing your back. "I don't know why but I trust you." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear and his grip on you slightly tightened - not in a claustrophobic way, but more comforting as you felt yourself melt into him. "Just don't kill me."

#slasher #writing #horror #scream #ghostface #billy loomis #stu macher #billy x stu x reader #angst

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imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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polandspringz · 4 years ago

Text

I made the decision to watch all of the Case Files of Jeweler Richard in a day and I am ABSOLUTELY LOSING MY FUCKING MIND

(Technically I’ve watched up to episode 11 so I have 1 more episode left but am leaving it until tomorrow because it’s 1 AM right now- but I digress)

Spoilers for up to episode 10 of the anime, and apologies because I don’t know how to do read more on mobile so LONG POST:

Okay so FIRST OFF- On the cover this show isn’t explicit in that it has LGBTQ themes- it’s not labeled as such or with BL or Shounen Ai, the usual genre titles we see in anime. However, when I first tried to watch it a few months ago, within the opening minute I just knew (I just forgot to continue after that first minute until today). A lot of times with anime you can just tell things based on the art style or the dialogue, and if it doesn’t end up having those themes, then you get a situation like Balance: Unlimited where all of Twitter was tweeting “wait, it isn’t a BL???”

That being said, this series DOES have LGBTQ themes, one of the early side characters talks about how she doesn’t want to go through with her marriage because she realized she’s a lesbian or bisexual and is still in love with her old roommate. Another character expresses thoughts about romance and marriage in ways that I’m sure people who are asexual or a romantic can identify with. And this isn’t just with the side characters, oh no. The entire show is centered around the relationship of Richard and Seigi, and oh my god is it wild in how it is presented.

If you go on the wiki for this show, as my sister and I did, you’ll see a sentence along the lines of “Richard and Seigi frequently compliment each other’s beauty and say how much they like one another, to the point that everyone around them believes them to be in a relationship. However it’s unclear if their words are romantic or not.” And then if you go to their relationship page on the wiki, it just says Seigi is Richard’s boyfriend. So what’s the truth? (TLDR: the wiki is right. They’re definitely in love.)

Well the thing that had me rolling is that Seigi says he likes rich. A lot. Specifically throws around the “daisuki” line almost every episode. He says Richard is like a jewel, calls him beautiful and pretty. Richard picks him up in the rain after being dumped. They go alone to fancy restaurants for dinner almost every night. They flirt. It feels almost undeniable that what they’re saying is romantic, and that any kiss confirmation is unnecessary. There is a major plot line during all this though of Seigi trying to ask out his female college classmate however, and the result makes it sort of feel like Richard and Seigi are together but they’re in this open relationship with no labels so Richard just wants Seigi to have no regrets. The plot with the classmate really doesn’t do anything to their relationship. Richard and Seigi still are being as wild as ever.

And the reason I refer to this as being “wild” is partially because while watching my sister and I were riffing on the dialogue a little. For an anime, the show is very progressive in it’s ideas, Richard in episode 1 or 2 straight up calling Seigi out for something he said about a foreign customer and making him promise to not discriminate or judge anyone for their race, religion, sexual orientation, appearance, etc. (My sister literally joked “DONT BE RACIST” and then her jaw dropped when Richard said just that). There’s a multitude of moments in the first half of the show where Richard basically is just glaring at Seigi or telling him off later with a deadpanned expression for being xenophobic or just blunt about things that end up being rude to customers, and it’s because of how surprising it is that the show NEVER misses a moment to be like “YEAH ACTUALLY DON’T BE RUDE” that makes it hilarious. It feels almost unreal when everything you make a joke about happens two seconds afterwards.

Circling back to Richard and Seigi relationship though, early on I called on the idea that the show was going to have the trope of “he’s rich and from Europe so he’s illegitimate or something and he’s going to have to go back and Seigi will run after him in this big airport scene” and I basically got all that. Except that Richard and Seigi don’t meet up again until they’ve both been in England for a while and then we learn that Richard’s family are terrible people because a clause in their dead great grandfather’s inheritance made it so only Richard can inherit this 300 million pound Diamond but ONLY if he married a traditional English housewife. This clause is said to be VERY VERY strict in that it HAS to be an English housewife to the LETTER. And she must be TRADITIONAL. Of course, Richard is refusing to do this. So you’re watching them mess around in England for a bit, I got another cliche/trope I wanted when Seigi fell sick and Richard had to care for him in the hotel room, before the characters suddenly get a phone call and Richard’s cousin goes:

“Hey Seigi! Guess what? Turns out you qualify for the marriage clause! Despite being Asian, the will and the law consider a homosexual civil partnership equivalent to a heterosexual marriage, so you can be with Richard and then he get’s the Diamond! So I’ll see you at the safe where the Diamond will be at!”

(I’m paraphrasing the words obviously but the part about civil partnership was what I specifically remember being said, but forgive me for any errors, as my jaw was on the floor when the show threw that curveball at me).

In case you’re confused, I’m not saying this is bad at all. I’m just saying when watching this show, it feels UNBELIEVABLY HILARIOUS the way these things literally get thrown at the audience. Stuff you would never expect in an anime just punch you in the face repeatedly and I was so shocked from this “viable marriage candidate” twist that I did SENSE was coming (but thought of it more of as a joke, BECAUSE HOW THE HECK DID HE FIT THE CLAUSE OF A TRADITIONAL ENGLISH HOUSEWIFE) I had to pause the episode and rush to spit out the water I just drank before I choked. And if this wasn’t enough to kill me, we learn later on, that the reason this whole crazy clause happened in this dead man’s will was because he wanted to get back at the rest of Richard’s family because the man’s son was marrying a woman from Sri Lanka and LITERALLY SAID “THE WHITE SUPERMACISTS” WOULD HARASS HER so all of this chaos was to give the fortune to their side of the family and piss off the racists. I just cannot believe I’m hearing and seeing all this in a Japanese anime. There was even discussion of how Japan’s traditional gender roles restrict women, and it’s just like HOW IS THIS SHOW SO PROGRESSIVE??? It literally feels like I’m watching a paradox and it’s sad because it shouldn’t but it’s hilarious and enjoyable all the same.

Once again, and sort of a TLDR, The Case Files of Jeweler Richard is an incredible show. It’s an unintentionally hilarious ride that isn’t baiting because it feels like it’s definitely presenting Richard and Seigi’s relationship as romantic coded without needing a kiss or anything. It’s strangely progressive and open minded for Japanese media, seems meta at times, and has left me stunned in ten out of twelves episodes thus far that I’m so sad I didn’t watch it week to week to see the reactions of the fans live. I highly recommend this series if you’re looking for something to just get you to laugh or just a fun story involving two male leads with great chemistry.

Now, here’s a representation of me watching this show:

#the case files of jeweler richard #Poland’s thoughts

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novellenight · 3 years ago

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Hii I have couple of questions for you so hope you don't mind! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ♡

1) What gojohime moment made you think "lol hello a new ship"?

2) Is Gojo aware of how his behavior affects others?

3) How do you think Utahime's cursed technique works? It's related to singing but still, how do you think it works?

4) When they go out together (Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, Yuki, Gojo, Nanami, Kusakabe and Kiyotaka) what are they likely to do at karaoke night?

5) Gojo sees Utahime grumpy most of the time so when he saw her happy and enthusiastic ab baseball game what was his reaction?

6) There's audio drama where Gojo goes to maid cafe which is probably 18+ rated bc Yuji got embarrassed when he read the sign. Now imagine Utahime finding him leaving at the doors. Her reaction?

7) Do you think Utahime ever helped 'babysitting' Megumi and Tsumiki but the kids don't remember? This day gojohime parenting dynamic evolved. How are they functioning as a 'family'?

8) Geto, Shoko, Gojo and Utahime play party games. Of course Geto is the one who knows Gojo the most since they're best friends but how is Utahime doing when it comes to knowing him and vice versa? Bc if they notice things about each other that no one else does they'd probably get teased for it. 😂

9) Was Gojo ever jealous of Kusakabe and Utahime being friendly?

10) Your opinion- does Gojo sleep around or is he secretly a virgin? 🙈

11) If there's a reason for both of them getting angry at each other (yea even Gojo which is hard to imagine) what would it be?

12) Gojo thought beforehand "We never know what might be listening around Utahime, after all. I don't want to think about one of the students being the traitor. This is such a pain." and Utahime cares a lot ab her students, she sounded like such a mom in ep21 haha "For now, let's be glad our students are safe." 🥰 But yea, turns out Mechamaru was the traitor. She must have felt rly bad yk. So what do you think? Did Gojo comfort her in a way?

13) Your theory- how did Utahime get her scar?

14) Do Shoko and Utahime talk ab boys at sleepovers? 👀

15) Yk, it would be rly hypocritical if Gojo slept around while Utahime became let's say 'closer' to Kusakabe for instance and Gojo became jealous bc he doesn't have any right to meddle in other people's business. What would he do to prove that he's better? Would he give up on something? Would he be able to change for her?

1) When I saw a manga panel of them and an artist’s drawing of Gojo touching Uta’s scar. I still remember it vividly until today, and now look where I am. :)

2.) According to Gege, no. But according to me, he knows but does not awknowledged it. Gojo afterall grew up for himself as the strongest, so it might be hard for him to empathize in some stuff like Yuji does. 3.) I imagine she can summon contracted shaman spirits when she preforms miko ceremonies with her singing. There’s a lot of theory in this, but I would like to think she’s good in sealing techniques. She uses performs ceremonies to trap curses and finish them off with her voice. It’s a mixture of Toge’s CT and shaman ceremonies for exorcism. 4.) The ones who drinks tries to get themselve drunk because of Gojo. Gojo would probably do that with a parfait in hand. Lucky paintbrush. 5.) He’s in love and tries to keep that goofy smile of his but fails. 6.) Utahime would probably pretend that she doesn’t know him. She’s mature, so maybe she’ll not judge him, its his life. But it doesn’t stop fanfictions of her getting slightly hurt and jealous, heheheh. 7.) Utahime is mom, Gojo is brat 1, and the kids are angels. As much as Gojo tries to become a ‘father’ he ends up as the real baby. Tsumiki is close to both of them and finds Gojo funny, while Megumi favors Utahime more. I love this family trope. 8.) Utahime would wing everything about Gojo being annoying. However, she’ll also be suprised from time to time with new information of Gojo. It shows that he’s also still human despite his ‘god-like facade’ and she appreciates that. He’s still a jerk tho. 9.) Why do you think Kusakabe was in the Tokyo School in the first place? It’s because Gojo refuses to let him come near Utahime. So Gojo is stuck with the swordsman and annoys him daily to keep an eye on him. XD 10.) According to some Gege said he’s a manwhore. But there are also diferrent ways how to interpret the translations. For me, he can be both either way. BUT I KNOW UTAHIME WILL BE HIS LAST AND INFINTY. 11.) Gojo not being able to protect Utahime. While Utahime believes she doesn’t need his help. 12.) Maybe he did. It’s normal in their line of work to be betrayed, and I think Utahime already steeled her heart and Gojo’s aware of it. She’s a sorcerer for a long time now, and it means, she’s also crazy in some way. Her menatlity is just that strong. Cue the Train Scene of her being professional. 13.) When she was going to be promoted as a grade one sorcerer. 14.) Interesting... They’d talk about men but ends up complaining about Gojo (just Uta while Shoko half-listens and remembers Geto). 15.) Is this going to be a fic? Lol, Gojo in some way is hyprocital. Everyone is. He can change if he wants to, starting by make amends and trying to act as just “Satoru Gojo”, not with all those strongest speech of his. Once Utahime would notice this (she does already) and the rest, you can say he’s changed for the better. BUT IMAGINE THE DRAMA IN A FIC ABOUT THIS. HAHAHAHAH Thank you for asking, I loved answering this hehehe. I hope you got the answers you want to hear. <3

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years ago

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 14 - Unexpected Meeting

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who will they run into?, 3.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention, emotional trauma

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

“Man, I need a break,” Reggie was saying as he strolled with Alex down an unfamiliar street in the early evening, stretching his arms. “I mean, being in the studio all the time has been good, but on top of everything else it’s just so much!”

Unsure where they were headed, Alex walked a few paces ahead on the sidewalk, casually navigating for both of them. He squinted as he looked at Reggie.

“Reggie, you dropped, like, all of your classes once we signed on.”

“Nope!” his friend exclaimed, tilting his head in a proud manner. “I just needed two electives to graduate. It’s okay, though, man. Not everyone finishes their math requirements as a freshman.” Reggie patted Alex’s shoulder, as if it were any sort of consolation.

“No, good for you Reg,” Alex said. His parents had paid for all this private tutoring and even gotten him to take some college credits early. Of course, his only serious plan after high school had been the band so it was all wasted effort, but then all of their attempts with him amounted to that. He was learning to feel less guilty over it. It wasn’t his fault they never cared about what he wanted.

“How long do you think Luke and Bobby are gonna be workshopping their parts together?” Reggie asked.

“Long enough. Where are we going, exactly?”

“Oh, I was just kind of keeping an eye out for anywhere interesting.”

Alex blinked. “I thought we were headed somewhere specific.”

“I’ve only been to this side of L.A. like, once, so I don’t think I’d make a good tour guide,” Reggie stated.

And just like that, Alex’s mind thrust itself back into remembering Willie. He was getting better at not crumbling completely in the moment, but it still felt like his heart was temporarily dunked into a dark ocean of misery. It would remain waterlogged and heavy inside his chest for a while.

“Alex?” Reggie was saying, looking at him with concern. “You okay?”

Snapping his thoughts back to the present, Alex sighed as he looked back at Reggie.

“I’ll be fine.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket and pressed his arms against his sides. Shoulders hunched, he continued through the crowd. Focusing on walking would hopefully help it wear off. He made every step purposeful, trying to get the weight in his heart to fall through his feet. Reggie’s hand on his shoulder made him turn.

“It’s still rough, isn’t it?” he asked gently. “If I said something - ”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex tried to assure him. “Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. Besides, I can’t make you and everyone else walk on eggshells.”

“Maybe not, but we’re in this with you. It may have been different for us, but we all met Willie. I’d never seen you warm up to anyone that fast. Even after a few months, it’s still fresh; don’t force yourself to be better for us.”

Pausing on the sidewalk, Alex looked up at Reggie. He tried to smile as gratitude edged its way in, relieving most of the heaviness in his chest.

“I appreciate that, Reg.”

“Of course, man.”

“So,” Alex took a deep breath to let everything else wash away as they kept wandering. “You made it sound like you had a lot going on. Is everything at home okay?”

Reggie shrugged. “Eh...no change there. My mom went to stay with her sister after the last fight, so my dad’s been trying his best to take care of everything, but he’s too upset to handle it well. My little sister has just been sleeping over with friends anyway, and I can handle myself, so - ” he shrugged again, “ - you know, I do what I can.”

Alex nodded. He had nothing really to comment, and Reggie knew he was always there to support him. This wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it still wasn’t right. Neither of them spent much time at their own homes, so wandering through the city like this kept them occupied when they weren’t with the rest of the band. Looking up at the store signs around them, he saw a record store about a block ahead.

“Hey, why don’t we check that out?” he suggested.

“Yeah!” Reggie said, dropping any ounce of gloom from the previous subject and skipping along to catch up with Alex.

A small bell rang as they came through the door, and they immediately began filtering through shelves of records and CDs. Peeking toward the back of the store, Alex could see a counter that offered a menu of food and drinks, some tables, as well as the smallest stage in the world. This seemed like a neat little place.

“Oh,” Reggie started after a while. “I got us a gig playing at my cousin’s wedding.”

“A wedding?” Alex said skeptically, turning from the Pansy Division vinyl he was checking out. “When we’re trying to finish a record and go on tour?”

“It’s Conrad, okay, he’s family! And he said we could make the setlist.”

Alex shrugged, considering that was fair.

“...with his approval.”

At that addition, Alex could only sigh and shake his head.

“And then maybe, you could, I don’t know, finally ask Bobby to be your date?”

Reggie put down the Mötley Crüe album he’d been examining and looked up at him in shock. Alex realized he’d possibly been too blunt. But immediately Reggie began to cover it up, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?” he said, his denial completely transparent. “Was that a...was that supposed to be a joke or something?”

Giving him a look of pity, Alex put his hands on his hips.

“You’re really gonna try to pull the wool over the eyes of your gay friend?”

Caught, Reggie looked back at him in defeat and bowed his head.

“I’m gonna guess you noticed a while ago?”

Nodding, Alex tried to soften his demeanor.

“There’s been something up with you two for months. How come you haven’t tried to talk to him about it?”

Reggie knit his brow and began fiddling with his fingers.

“Well, I’m a little confused by it, to be honest. Cuz, I mean...I like girls, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“But I like Bobby, too.”

“Okay.”

His friend looked up at him, expecting more of a reaction. Alex leaned against the shelf and folded his arms.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you? Because you’re talking to the king of wrong feelings.”

“Well, sometimes I feel like that, but not really. It’s something else,” Reggie said.

“Like what?”

“Well...we’ve been friends for years. It just sort of crept up on me and I don’t know what to do. What if he rejects it? He’s one of my best friends.”

Thinking for a moment, Alex looked down at his feet. He didn’t blame Reggie for being worried. He’d had a mini crush on Bobby for a couple weeks back in ninth grade and had the same dilemma. It was easier for him to get over, though, simply because it had faded quickly.

“Well, I wish I could say if it’s meant to be it’ll happen, but sometimes…”

Sometimes it dies in a fire before there’s any chance of knowing.

He shook his head to get rid of the awful thought and ignored Reggie’s look of concern.

“But if I know Bobby, I don’t think it’s going to harm anything. I think you should go for it, Reg. I truly, honestly, will back you up on that.”

A smile spread wide across Reggie’s face.

“Thanks, man!”

Without fretting over it for another second, he turned back to the shelf of CDs he’d been perusing, and Alex did the same. There was a crazy good selection, and Alex wished he could get his hands on a record player. Playing CDs on a boombox worked for some things, but there was a level of charm in playing something on a vinyl record that appealed to him even more. He made a note to get a small notebook to carry in his fanny pack, hoping to return to this store and make a wishlist of sorts to work toward.

“Do I see Alex and Reggie of Sunset Curve?” A familiar voice said from behind.

Both of them turned to find Flynn standing in the aisle, braids tied up into a high ponytail and eyebrow arched in her usual smart fashion.

“Hey Flynn!” Reggie exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. Alex went in for one afterward, happily surprised.

“Hey guys!” she said, grinning.

“What are you up to?” Alex asked.

“Gonna be performing in a bit,” she said excitedly. “Just a warm up before the main group comes on. I’ve been working on some of my own stuff; I think you guys would love it! Got time to stick around?”

“Sweet!” Reggie raised a fist for her to bump. “I’m down. Alex, wanna stay?”

“Yeah, sounds great!”

He had yet to see what Flynn was capable of. If he were to judge only on knowing she’d been in a duo with Julie, he expected it to be good.

“Also, you should try the burritos here,” Flynn told them. “They are to die for!”

The endless click-rollll-click-click-click of his board filled his ears as Willie moved through the street, feeling the wind pass over him in the way that made freedom feel like he could clutch it in his hands. He’d actually spent today not worrying about Alex. It felt good not to dwell on what little past he had access to. Of course, he still had repetitive dreams about the few memories that had come back, but the backwards one with Caleb in it hadn’t come back ever since he’d gotten to LA. Moving forward felt...nice.

He had spent the morning sketching at the beach, getting all sorts of practice in. The beautiful waves, seagulls, the different activities all around him. Somehow a group of young college kids had gotten him to join their volleyball tournament. Willie wasn’t sure if he’d ever played it before, but once he caught onto the game, he’d gotten surprisingly good. It felt nice to roll up the hem of his jeans and dig his toes into the warm sand while playing with a group of strangers. They’d nicknamed him Mowgli, whatever that meant. He liked the sound of it though.

Heading off to work after cleaning himself up, he realized he could spend all his free time that way. Peacefully sketching, meeting fun people, and enjoying his surroundings. Was that all it took to be happy? Willie chuckled at the thought of how much Caleb had stressed over rising to the top of his business game, never appearing to be satisfied with any of it. Leaving Vegas remained the best decision he’d ever made. Of course, he wasn’t always proud about his method of burning down the shed, but it had been one of those...heat of the moment things.

Willie skated up to the back entrance and shook his hair out after lifting off his helmet. Just a few short hours of making food, some chill entertainment, and he could peace out for the night. He headed inside the store and right into the small kitchen. Thankfully, the store didn’t fit too many patrons and it was never hard to keep up with orders, and Kyle had a system so he never had to leave the kitchen. This basically meant he could jam to the live music during the lulls between orders with no interruption.

Kyle entered the kitchen just as Willie was tying on his apron.

“Hey, dude, thanks for coming. We actually got two acts coming in, so it should be a full crowd. Katelyn can be the MC for the first bit, but do you mind taking over for the second half?”

A twinge of excitement came over Willie and he lit up. He’d never gotten to try being an MC before.

“Don’t mind at all!” he said.

“Alright, man!” Kyle exclaimed. “First two orders up: swamp style nachos and a bog burrito.”

“Got it.”

“We’re up for a big night with these performances,” the girl hosting hyped up the crowd. “Let’s give it up for our artist of the night: Flynn Taylor!”

Reggie cupped his hands over his mouth as he hollered along with everyone else’s applause. Alex clapped with a mouthful of nachos. Flynn stepped onto the stage behind a set of deejay turntables, smirking as she began flipping switches and turning knobs.

“Thanks for coming out here everyone,” she said into the mic. More applause and whistles echoed through the room. “We’re gonna make a lot of noise tonight, so let me hear you get pumped!”

As she began playing a beat, Alex bobbed along, immediately interested. He didn’t know a thing about mixing, so he was highly impressed with the different sounds she was using. Then Flynn picked up the mic and began rapping and the whole room cheered.

“...I’m a princess, I don’t need a prince, boy I’m priceless...I’m here to shut it down like a night shift…”

“Man,” Reggie leaned over to Alex. “She’s so good! I say we book her to open for us ASAP as possible.”

Alex merely snorted and chuckled at Reggie’s misuse of the acronym. He actually enjoyed the idea of having Flynn rapping to open for their rock shows. Gigs where all the bands sounded the same got a little flavorless sometimes.

“Also,” Reggie said as he took a huge bite into his burrito. “This is the best burrito I’ve ever had.”

“Lemme try some, you can try my nachos,” Alex said.

All Reggie could say was Mm! as he passed the burrito over.

The final beats of the first performer echoed in the kitchen where Willie had been dancing, waving various kitchen tools around. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the whole set, and wondered what sounded so familiar about the girl who was rapping. Before he could spend more time thinking about it, Kyle came in.

“Okay, you ready?” he asked.

“I just keep people busy and then announce the next group, right?” Willie guessed.

“Yeah, man, you’ve got this!”

“What’s the next group called?”

“Downslide. And they brought some merch, so it’s a good idea to mention that to the crowd as well.”

“Okay,” Willie nodded, slipping out of his apron. “Maybe I could put their t-shirt on or something, you know, sell the look?”

Kyle looked impressed. “Yeah! I’ll go see what they’ve got.”

He left the kitchen and hardly a minute later returned with a jacket.

“They said you could wear it for the night. Not gonna lie, I wish I could wear this, it’s a sweet jacket.”

Willie slipped it on, and turned around. He didn’t often wear jackets, but whatever it was made of was pretty soft.

“Guess I’m ready,” he said, giving Kyle a hand slide and fist bump before leaving the kitchen. He stepped up behind the microphone and looked out at the crowd, and further back, the empty store.

At that moment, he heard the bell of the store door ring and two guys walked outside. Through the window, a familiar leather jacket passed. Then, he saw a head of blonde hair follow, turning to look both ways to cross the street, and his heart grew to fill all the empty space in his chest. It was unmistakable. It had to be.

“Alex...” he breathed quietly into the microphone. Adrenaline immediately went out to his extremities. The crowd before him looked bewildered as they waited for him to announce the next group.

Glancing offstage, he saw Kyle give him a strange look. Willie shook his head, unclear what message he was sending but ultimately knowing he couldn’t stay at his current spot. Before he could think anything else, his legs were bounding out the door. It felt like every ounce of blood in his veins knew. The search was over.

Reggie and Alex had just reached the opposite corner. He wasn’t going to miss his chance.

“Alex!” he cried, running to meet them.

He immediately thrust his arms around a surprised Alex, gripping him tightly, burying his face into his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Alex!” he said, panting. “It’s so good to see you.”

He didn’t feel the hug didn’t reciprocate, and instead Alex grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away. The darkness of the street seemed to envelop him.

“What are you - ?” Alex started, staring back at Willie like he’d just been assaulted. Then shock wiped over his whole face. Then confusion. And then a pain came over all of it that made Willie’s concern grow.

“What - what is it?” he asked, all the excitement gone.

Alex wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he raised a hand to hold the side of his head.

“No, this isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, shrinking backward and shutting his eyes. “This can’t be real.”

Willie glanced over at Reggie, who also stared like he was seeing the impossible. He could see Alex shaking and heard a rattled breath, and felt tension grow thick in the air. Quickly, he went to take Alex’s face in his hands.

“Alex, hey, look, it’s me,” he soothed. He fought to get a look directly into his eyes. “It’s me, Willie.”

Finally, the green ocean gazed back at him, turbulent and restless. What once had been a grounding rhythm of waves had turned into a maelstrom of despair. Even worse were the tears welling up right before him. Willie watched the storm rage for a few seconds, seeking for a moment of calm.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, lowering his hands. Alex looked so wounded it frightened him.

“How are you alive?” Alex begged to know.

Blinking, Willie sat back, astounded at those words. While he agreed it was a miracle he was still alive, he couldn’t fathom why Alex would ask such a question. He chuckled merely out of discomfort.

“I’m here.” Willie glanced at Reggie, looking for an explanation. “Flesh and bone. Why? What happened?”

Alex looked at him incredulously, jaw hanging open. He looked so tightly wound and so scattered all at once.

“Caleb told me you were dead.”

Willie blanched inwardly at the mention of Caleb, but even more so at the rest of that sentence he’d been utterly unprepared to hear.

“He...he - ” he stammered for a moment. “When would you have even talked to him?”

Sharing a look with Reggie, Alex took a deep breath. Then he looked back at Willie hesitantly.

“We see him all the time. We work for him now.”

It was Willie’s turn to drop his jaw.

“We’ve been signed to his record label for a few months now,” Reggie pitched in.

Directing his gaze to the ground, Willie puzzled for a minute.

“Why would I be dead?” he asked, looking back up at Alex.

For a minute Alex simply gazed at him wordlessly.

“I don’t know,” he said. There was a pause as both of them finally looked at each other, fully aware that this was real. And then Alex threw his arms around Willie to return the hug. Willie had to raise himself up on his toes to avoid falling over, and he tightened his grip to remain steady. He felt joy spread through his whole torso and breathed a sigh of relief as hands tangled into his hair. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m so happy to see you.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #sunset curve #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #flynn taylor #caleb covington #viva las vegas #unexpected meeting #fiddlepickdouglas

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damienthepious · 3 years ago

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grumpy lizard grumpy lizard grumpy lizard

Knight of the Swamp (chapter 7)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ao3] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep, Sir Damien & The Keep, Rilla & The Keep

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, (for rilla&damien), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, (for R&D and Arum), Dueling, Fealty Dynamics, Pre-Canon AND Alt-Canon at the same time!! fun!!!, Mira is not Queen yet, Power Imbalance, (in the arum/damien dynamic at least. rilla ain't having it)

Summary: Perhaps the King should have known better than to force Sir Damien to choose between his heart and his oaths.

Chapter Summary: Sir Damien takes his new oaths, so to speak.

Chapter Notes: I realized recently that i should maybe mention that the uhhhhhhhhh power dynamics in this one are going to get WEIRD and perhaps troubling, depending on how sensitive you are to that sort of thing? I think that i went into this thinking that would be obvious just from the premise, but maybe it bears mentioning. Arum's not a fucken creep tho, so like, no lines will be crossed. There will, however, be some Overt Pining from across those wack power dynamics. i don't even know what i'm saying anymore, i'm just very nervouse about reactions in the general sense, so. Maybe i should just shut up! anyway. Happy lizard kissin, despite the lack of ACTUAL lizard kisses. This one is going to be as goddamn slow burn as Scattered was, i can FEEL it.

Damien does, in fact, spend a few of his hours that evening in meditation, as Lord Arum suggested.

It is customary, before such a dedication, and-

There is a great deal that Damien needs think about, even despite his assurance to his forever-flower that he is committed to this decision.

It is purely madness. Madness. He must be mad, surely, because this cannot be the path of-

Days ago, only days, he was Sir Damien the Pious, and even if he left his old knighthood abandoned on the floor of Rilla's hut along with Sir Ector, even if his understanding of monsterkind has failed to endure in the face of the Keep and its Lord, even then-

Can he truly do this?

Can Damien kneel at the feet of a monster, reclaiming his burden of knighthood in almost obstinate opposition to his Citadel- his oh-so-recent past? Can he truly do this, and call himself still devoted to his Saint as well?

Is he only fooling himself, to imagine Saint Damien's presence here? Is it some monstrous trick, some sinister temptation laid before him, an inversion of reality to match the inversion of his nights and days in his flight from the Citadel with Rilla? Could it be that this Keep, this monster and its Lord are simply the mechanism of some enormous pitcher plant, drawing him in with manipulation and sweet scents and hope, only to slowly, patiently corrupt and devour his body, his mind, his soul?

... Lord Arum's reluctance, however, gives him pause. The monster seemed- belligerent, stubborn in the face of his- Keep. Bratty, as Rilla would say. Quite a foolish trap, wouldn't it be, if the mechanism of capture encouraged them - repeatedly - to escape? And the Keep-

The structure around him: he has seen a number of chambers within, now, though judging by Lord Arum's words he cannot have seen even a quarter of the space. It is like a castle, a palace, elegant and beautiful and thrumming with life and light, both from precisely placed skylights to let in the sun and from woven bowers of glowing flora (bioluminescent, Rilla says, with no small degree of delight) and even this small space that Lord Arum and his Keep suggested for his meditation (Rilla pretends not to bounce with excitement when he suggests that she explore the greenhouse further while Damien ponders his fate) seems to hum with energy, tiny motes of fluff (cattail seed, perhaps?) drifting through the hazy, humid air around him, wavering lightly with his every breath. And the Keep itself, the consciousness- Damien can nearly feel it.

No.

Not nearly.

Damien can feel it, this monster, this Keep. He can feel its presence, muted but pervasive. It is like sunlight on his skin, but cooler. It is like rich soil submersing him, but less heavy. It is like music- music just below the periphery of his consciousness, tickling his eardrums. It is distracting. It is comforting. It is unlike anything Damien has ever felt before-

Barring the presence of his Saint.

(blasphemy, likening a monster to a Saint, terrifying to suppose the power of this creature comparable to one of the three holiest presences in all of creation, if Damien's father could hear his thoughts now, if he knew-)

(he never will, no matter Damien's imaginings)

It is not precisely the same. No, the two sensations are distinct, Damien can feel them both, the Keep a persistent, subtle hum, and Saint Damien a breath which ebbs and flows, cyclic comfort which draws his own breaths slower.

Damien does not think that one could imitate the other. Damien does not think that one would imitate the other. Damien does not think, despite every single word of his education, that the two powers exist in discordance with each other.

Can the Keep hear him, as he muses, as his words flow around him in a churning cloud, his breath rippling the cottony seedheads into new swirling patterns even as he contemplates aloud its very nature?

Lord Arum promised him privacy, before the ceremony, and Damien cannot help but believe him, foolish as that may be.

(he can feel the Keep itself- would he feel the difference, between true attention and its mere presence?)

His thoughts circle, circle, and do not conclude. Caught in a mire, he thinks wryly. The swamp within him echoing the swamp without, lingering in eddies, catching detritus from his old life and turning it in circles.

He may muse for as long as he wishes about the philosophy of his choices, about his fate and his fall, but-

The rudder of Damien's life tore from his hands the moment Rilla came under threat from the very crown to which Damien swore himself, before, and his wager with Lord Arum has not allowed his hand upon the tiller again. This is merely... desperate scrabbling panic from the broken wreckage of his ship, grasping for anything solid so he and his love will not drown. He begged Saint Damien, as he has before, and as before-

Saint Damien brought his lips to the surface.

Perhaps the Keep is the stillness he requires, for the moment, to allow him to breathe between the rapids.

(madness-)

( listen- your heart )

The Keep thrums around him, the seed-puff motes no longer still in the air, bobbing in waves around him, whether simply in reaction to his steady breath or in some sympathy more magical, he does not know.

Damien breathes, and watches them float, dappling the amber sunlight with dusty white.

He will trust Saint Damien. He will trust his heart.

He will trust the Keep, and he will serve its Lord.

Lord Arum leads the both of them to a particular portion of his greenhouse, when the time comes. An imposing throne, grown and woven and thorny and ancient, stands sharp on a raised dais - a stump the width of Rilla's hut, Damien realizes - and Lord Arum stalks up towards it, his tail lashing irritably. The throne itself shifts, vines along the top of the seat unbraiding and lifting out a circlet of flowers- a crown, which the throne (the Keep?) lowers carefully onto Lord Arum's head, complimenting his bold colors and accentuating the curve of his horns, shifting his countenance even more regal, despite his peevish expression.

He looks down his snout at the both of them from his stiff position beside the throne as it settles again, vines stilling as if they never moved at all. Damien swallows roughly, steadied by Rilla's presence, her elbow knocking against his own.

"Will anyone else be... attending the ceremony?" Damien asks, his voice carefully quiet to match the muted, gentle feeling of the glade surrounding the dais. "Besides Rilla, and yourself, and- and the Keep?"

"Surely not," the monster snorts, his tail lashing. "For any number of reasons. Best not to allow any to interfere. Once the commitment is made, there will be far less risk to all of us. If you are... entirely certain, that is."

"I am," Damien says, despite himself. "I am quite determined, Lord Arum."

"Very well," the monster sighs, and then he aims his gaze towards Rilla. "And you have no desire to dissuade him from this notion, little doctor? You have no qualms about allowing your... companion to put his neck on the line for your sake?"

"You try convincing him not to be self-sacrificing," Rilla drawls, rolling her eyes, but before Damien can sink into self-consciousness she leans closer, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. "I'll make promises too, if you want me to, but I'm never going to be a knight. How about this- if you don't hurt us, I won't hurt you. If you help us, I'll help you. Simple."

Lord Arum sniffs, then looks away from their clasped hands. "If you say so. Fine, fine. Let us get on with it, then. Approach, oh he who would... oh, you know."

The monster sighs, deep and dramatic as he flicks his wrist in the air, and Damien feels himself pout as he squeezes Rilla's hand one more time.

"It'll be fine," she whispers, leaning to kiss his cheek once, sweet and lovely. "I love you. I'll be two steps behind you. Don't let frill-and-bluster there intimidate you, okay?"

Damien laughs helplessly, lovingly, and then he nods as releases her hand. "I love you as well, dearest flower," he murmurs, and then he steels himself and steps up onto the dais with Lord Arum.

"You- you will be serious, now, I hope," Damien says as he straightens on the platform, fighting to keep his voice neutral and not wounded. "This is... this is my life, Lord Arum. This is both of our lives, and I should hope you would treat it with-"

"I am serious, honeysuckle," Arum hisses, sighing again. "I am also unenthusiastic. I feel the contrast is important, as my Keep will not stop trilling delight."

The Keep sings at that, twin-toned innocence failing to hide a giddy vibrato, and Damien cannot help the smile that curves his mouth.

"Well," he murmurs, "I am honored that at least one of you is pleased by my presence."

The Keep lilts a warm phrase, and then it grows a set of vines behind him, gently lifting his bow away and holding it out for Lord Arum to take. Damien stifles his discomfort, swallowing as he watches Arum wrap his narrow fingers around the grip, deliberate and careful. Lord Arum growls, two of his other hands fiddling absently with his cape.

"Yes, yes, he is gallant, now hush. The quicker we get through this the better. Kneel, my would-be knight."

Damien-

Stubbornly pretends not to feel his cheeks heat at even such a reluctant compliment paired with that instruction, and then he nods, and obeys. The dais springs up gentle moss beneath his knees before they make contact with the wood, and gratefulness swells in Damien's chest at the care implicit in the gesture as he ducks his head.

The monster sighs yet a third time above him, and Damien glances up before he can think better of it.

Arum stands tall and regal, all elegant curves and vicious points, the vivid violet of his cape echoed in the delicate flowers of his crown, as well as those eyes- sparkling and faceted and complex with emotion, almost- almost human, despite the impossible color, and it washes over Damien like a wave, the reality of his position in this moment, the reality of this choice, this dedication.

It must show on his face. Arum's eyes narrow and harden, just slightly, and he folds two arms behind his back as he glares down at Damien.

"Tell me, human," Arum says, his voice sharp and snapping. "To what do you wish to dedicate your service?"

"Lord Arum," Damien answers automatically. "He who rules the Swamp of Titan's Blooms."

The monster frowns, his brow furrowing deeply as Damien gazes up at him. "A satisfactory answer… but not a complete one. To what," he says again, "do you wish to swear yourself, Damien?"

Damien pauses, and opens his mouth, and he is unsure for a moment, what the monster means, and then-

A touch, at his wrists, at his shoulders, soft flittering tendrils of vines, and Damien- Damien knows. He knows precisely what he is meant to say. A gentle prompting at the back of his mind, and a breath gusts from his lips.

Magic, he thinks, both panic and wonder swelling in one lance of feeling. The touch of the Keep retreats, but Damien can feel growth left behind, moss and minuscule sprouts tickling up from his collar, his sleeves. More comforting than it should be, perhaps.

Arum watches his face, mostly patient beneath a furrow of irritation, and Damien-

Inhales, and exhales, and lifts his chin towards the monster.

"I wish to serve... to serve the Keep, and every spark of its life within its swamp and its protection."

Arum stills, something unfathomable sparking in his violet eyes, and then the faintest hint of a smile hovers at the corners of his thin mouth. "Hm. Very good," he murmurs. "Rise, then."

Damien blinks, unsettled, and hesitates on his knees. "That- that's all? But- but there were no oaths, only-"

"There has never been a Knight of the Swamp before," Arum mutters, irritated again. "The ceremony will be as I wish it to be, and I wish it to be short. And simple. Less wasted breath, and less room for error. You will protect us, and we will in turn protect you. A symbiosis. If you ever betray us- if you ever willingly, knowingly bring us harm, this pact will be broken, and so true is the reverse. Now rise. Rise, Sir Damien, and take back your bow."

Sir Damien obeys, subtle fronds rising from the moss beneath his knees in assistance, and when he lifts out his hand-

When he wraps his palm around the wood, pale thin runners sprout from the green at the edge of his sleeve, growing around the grip of his bow, curling into living accents that bloom almost immediately, delicate sprays of fragrant yellow flowers above and below his hand.

He looks up at Lord Arum, then, and the monster's eyes fix upon him, much more gentle than he expects.

"Well, honeysuckle," he says slowly. "Let us hope that neither of us live to regret this."

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#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #the keep #knight of the swamp #please feedme comments? perhamps?

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

Sugar and Coffee [10]

Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

➜ Words: 5.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You love baking.

It’s what got you through the years of high school, through your grandparent’s passing and when home wasn’t the refuge you wanted it to be. For a long time, baking was the only real interest you had. And for great reasons too. It was magic and every time you stepped into the kitchen, you felt like a magician, pouring ingredients in, mixing to get an instant product. It’s chemistry with a sweet result. Something you can share with others. And that passion has only deepened over time. You love baking desserts, pastries, cakes, tarts, everything. Even things with chocolate, no matter how hard it is to master them. But fuck. Lemon meringue pie is an absolute bitch. “The pie filing is a bit watery.” The teacher places her tasting fork down. “Not too bad, but lots of room for improvement, you two. Watch that starch.” You and Jungkook sigh. This was your second attempt too. You swear this dessert is a nightmare in disguise and here to ruin your career. Taehyung notices the gloomy atmosphere bogging you and Jungkook down. He slides up to your counter after the teacher goes to judge the next pair that have finished. “Can I get a taste?” “Knock yourself out.” The boy beside you pushes the sad pie over to him. Taehyung eats, tasting it thoughtfully on his palate, and hums. “The crust is a bit soggy, huh?” “I don’t get what we did wrong,” you mutter. At least this was just practice and not a time-constricted examination. But so much for picking Jungkook as your partner. You thought he was the most competent baker in this class and thus the most worthy to bake with you. But maybe you gave him too much credit. “Well, there could be a number of things you did wrong. Maybe you boiled your cornstarch for too long or at too high of a temperature. When did you add in the lemon? The acidity might’ve destroyed your cornstarch’s ability to stay thick,” Taehyung points out, suddenly an expert on pies. “Also did you make sure the lemon filing was hot before you spread the meringue? That might be your issue as to why the filing is a watery mess. Try again, guys. Maybe you’ll succeed next time.” “What the fuck.” Jungkook has his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits. Like you, he’s baffled. He doesn’t even process it and is unable to think of a comeback to Taehyung’s condescending tone. Taehyung is an idiot. Usually. Since when did he know better than the two best people in class? “Want a taste of ours?” A huskier voice sounds behind Taehyung. The brunette moves aside and you find Yoongi at the counter beside yours, a smirk plastered on his face. He sets down his lemon meringue pie. It looks similar to yours. “Sure.” You wonder what their pie’s issue is. But as you dig into the slice they cut and put it on your tongue, there’s an explosion of flavour. Their crust is buttery and crispy, meringue fluffy on your tongue and soft. The filling is sweet yet balanced with a citrus sharpness to the flavour. You almost cream your pants as you swallow. Your mouth is watering for another lick, but you have too much dignity and pride to do so. Unfortunately, Jungkook can’t hide his expression as well as you can. “Good, right?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi are wearing shit eating grins, obviously relishing in your reactions. “The teacher said it was the best she’s tasted in a long time. Asked us if we cheated and bought it at a bakery.” “This’ll probably be our last attempt.” Yoongi hums, crossing his arms. “Probably don’t need to try again. She said she’d give it an A anyway, and you can’t really get any better than that.” You take a deep breath and grab Jungkook by the shoulder to drag him back to the counter with as much dignity as you have left. // The scent of lemon is stuck to your skin permanently. Even with a change of clothes and your apron stuffed in your locker, you can still smell the damn thing when you’re miles away from the kitchen. “Can you smell that or am I going crazy?” “No.” Jungkook already knows what you’re talking about. “I can smell it too.” “God.” You bang on the door and Jimin opens it. “Hey, Chim.” “Hey, guys.” The two of you step inside where the others have already gotten started, playing Super Smash on the TV with Yoongi and Taehyung battling against one another. It’s not an unusual sight, but what makes you stop in your tracks is that— “Aeri?” Your friend is seated on the couch with Hoseok’s arm looped around her casually. “Hey.” She greets you with a shy smile. You nod, rather impressed at this new development. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” “I didn’t either,” she admits and Hoseok grins at you. You throw your bag down while Jungkook flops beside Yoongi, taking a controller to join in. “Gonna play?” Jimin asks, about to hand you a controller too but you shake your head. “Nah. Not yet. I’m starving.” You pat your stomach and walk to the kitchen, ready to raid the fridge of whatever it has. “Don’t eat the meringue pie!” Yoongi shouts after you. “Fuck you,” you spit without looking back. “I wouldn’t even if you paid me to.” Now that’s one huge lie. But you still have your pride to hold onto. “Let me join you.” Aeri gets up and scrambles from Hoseok’s arm much to his dismay. You hum, peeking into the fridge and purposely overlooking the beautiful, godly pie in the middle. Min Yoongi must’ve placed it there to mock you on purpose. That fucker would. But you aren’t swayed and you grab the jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam as well as the stale bread. You place the ingredients on the counter to slap a sandwich together. In the meanwhile, Aeri lingers on the other side of the island. “How was your day?” she asks. “Good,” you answer and don’t beat around the bush— “So you’re dating Jung?” She coughs, sputters, caught off guard by your question. “Well…..I-I don’t know.” You loll your head to the side, giving her a look, and the blush on her cheeks deepen in hue. “Maybe? I don’t know…..it’s...kind of my first time….” “Being in a relationship? Yeah, I get it.” You smile reminiscently. Even if you’ve lost a comrade to the curse called love, you can’t feel bitter about it. You know what it’s like — the excitement, butterflies, nervousness, how every touch got your heart racing into what you thought would put you into cardiac arrest. The innocence of a first love can never be repeated. “Do you like him?” “Y-Yeah. I think so.” Aeri struggles to explain how she feels and makes wild gestures without realizing. “Every time I see him and every time he’s gone….I...I….” “You miss him.” The girl in the sweater nods and tugs on her sleeves self-consciously. “Sometimes I get really anxious that I’m doing something wrong and other times I’m so happy.” “Yeah, that’s how it goes. Love’s a crazy thing, huh?” You spread the peanut butter on one side of the bread. “Fucks with your brain real bad.” “It does,” Aeri agrees sheepishly. “And I don’t like being out of control with my feelings, but I think….it’s worth it.” “I’m jealous.” The words come out before you can stop it, but then you reel back and you laugh it off, slapping both halves of your sandwich together. “Not really. I’m kidding. Anyway, take it slow and you’ll be fine. Hoseok’s a good guy. You have nothing to worry about.” “Yeah, I know.” She grins, rocking back from her heel to her toes, beaming with joy. “And if he ever hurts you, tell me.” You slam the butter knife you have in hand onto the counter and it makes her jolt in surprise. “I’ll kill him.” Giggles bubble out of Aeri's throat. They diminish as you finish making your sandwich, tossing your tools into the sink. But she doesn’t easily let go of the slight envy you had accidentally expressed. “You’re doing okay, right, Y/N?” “Things couldn’t be better,” you assure with a grin. Except that’s a lie too. The both of you arrive back to the living room and your ears perk, catching wind of a husky voice, “—pie is good enough to win the competition, guaranteed, so that’s why we signed up.” If there was one thing in your life that could be better, it would be Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung’s humbleness or rather, lack thereof. “Are you still talking about your pie, Yoongi?” You scoff, flopping down to the couch, and eyeing him with a cocked brow. Aeri slides back beside Hoseok in the meanwhile and the dark-haired man is visibly happy to have her return to his side, arm coming to drape the back of the couch again. “You have no other accomplishments to rave about?” “At least I have one.” “It wasn’t even that good,” you tell the rest of them just for the record. But Yoongi audibly scoffs. “Really? Because it looked like Kook here was about to start crying.” “Jungkook always looks like he’s about to cry when he’s put on the spot.” Your kitchen partner turns his head away from the screen towards you. “Excuse me?” “Just admit it,” Taehyung eggs you on to further irritate you. “Our lemon meringue pie was the best thing you’ve ever tasted and that we’re going to crush the other teams.” “After we pick up that five hundred dollar prize, I might as well retire.” Yoongi stretches out his muscles with a small smirk. “I finally found the product I can sell for the rest of my life.” “Gordon Ramsay would probably put it on his menu to serve,” Taehyung says to his partner who shrugs nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” You whirl your head to the other people in the room to see if they’re hearing this like you are. Both Jimin and Aeri are sheepish and shrug at you, not knowing what to say. Hoseok grins, enjoying the back and forth. But you know that look on Jungkook’s face, the expression he exchanges with you. The two of you are pissed off at their cockiness. Hoseok notices and decides to throw gasoline into the fire. “Was it really that good?” “You can try it if you want. It’s still in the fridge.” The corner of Yoongi’s lips curl. “But it’s better than Y/N and Jungkook’s, that’s for sure.” “A lot better than theirs,” Taehyung says in a matter of fact way. “Theirs was sad, the filing and crust soggy. The meringue was weeping too. What a shame.” “Can’t blame them,” Yoongi adds as he leans back into the couch, spreading his thighs like he owns the damn place. Which he does. But that’s not the point. “Lemon meringue is hard to make. Only the best. Excellent. Competent. Most talented can bake it.” “That’s right,” Taehyung agrees. A muscle in your cheek twitches. Your jaw clamps. That’s enough for you to snap. “Jungkook and I are competing too.” Your partner looks away from the game and quirks a brow. “We are?” “Yeah.” Your eyes flicker from him back to the grinning duo. “So we’ll see who the best really is.” // It hindsight, it was a bad, bad decision made on impulse. The baking competition was taking place on a Sunday at school with four teams already signed up, including Taehyung and Yoongi. The competition itself isn’t too shabby, especially considering that the five hundred dollar prize is a great incentive. The problem is you and Jungkook haven’t prepared anything whatsoever. And it’s a problem that explains why most students don’t do bake-offs — sometimes it’s more effort than it’s worth. The pair of you haven’t decided anything. You both haven’t practiced. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jungkook asks, standing in front of the bulletin board with all the details of said competition happening within the next few days. “Come on, Jeon!” You try to ignore your own doubts by firing him up, plopping a hand on his shoulder. “We have our pride and our dignity on the line.” “I’ve never had too much dignity to begin with,” he mutters. “Are you really going to let Yoongi and Taehyung tell you that they’re more competent than you?” Jeon Jungkook scoffs, his competitiveness being poked at. “Yoongi can’t pipe for shit and the only thing Taehyung can bake is bread.” “Exactly.” He nods and together, the two of you sign your names on the sheet, bracing for whatever is to come.

The day of the competition arrives sooner than expected. You’ve gathered at an open kitchen with all your friends watching on the risers at the sidelines, and two of those most annoying idiots are at the counter beside you. There are ninety minutes on the clock and three teachers you know seated at the front with bright smiles. Mrs. Pham is nodding her head, Mr. Chu looking around while Miss. Kang coming forward with a microphone. Something that should be a friendly contest has you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Yoongi oozing an intense competitiveness that has the other three teams scared. “Alright folks, when the timer begins, you can begin and get whatever ingredients you need from the pantry. Remember, you will be judged on taste, presentation and creativity equally! Try your hardest and have good sportsmanship!” ��Ready?” You lean in to whisper to Jungkook, eyes meeting his and he nods sternly. “Is everyone ready?” Miss Kang lifts her arm and on three counts, grins. “Go!” The timer begins and Jungkook books it to the pantry with Taehyung is hot on his tail. In the meanwhile, you preheat the oven to four hundred degrees fahrenheit and grease two baking sheets that are already at your counter. Jungkook ends up coming back sweaty but with a basket of things you need and doesn’t seem to be missing anything. “Nice.” “Course, I have it all up here.” He mischievously taps his temple, making you lightly scoff. “Hand me the—” Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook slides the butter across the countertop and you catch it. “I got you.” The boy in the white apron winks, making you roll your eyes. You combine one cup of butter and two cups of water in a large saucepan, putting it over medium heat. At the same time, Jungkook works in sync with you and gets two cups of flour prepared with a half teaspoon of salt. Right when the butter finishes melting, you remove it from the heat and whisk in the flour and salt. He puts the egg carton beside you and begins to chop the semi-sweet chocolate he had gotten from the pantry. Beside you, Yoongi and Taehyung have fallen into a rhythm as well. They shout calmly at one another, as calm as shouting can be. You know they’re not to be underestimated, but it’s comforting to know that you don’t need to win — you just need to beat Yoongi and Taehyung. Miss. Kang approaches the pair of them. “What are you two doing here? Ooh, Yoongi, looks like you’re making pie crust and Taehyung you’re making working on some filing?” “It’s lemon meringue pie,” Taehyung says with a grin, flickering his eyes up. The teacher is genuinely impressed. “A classic, but one with great difficulty to master. I’m excited to taste it. Are you nervous at all?” “Not really,” he responds. “Our pie is the best.” “I am loving that confidence, you two. Keep it up!” She continues around and as you’re working, you hear the team behind you are making rhubarb cherry pie. Another team is working on mocha truffle cheesecake and the last, a duo diagonal to you, is baking blueberry bread pudding. It seems like everyone has a solid plan, but you don’t dwell or pay too much mind. You focus on beating the eggs into the mixture one at a time until the batter is smooth. “What a lovely sight to see, Jungkook and Y/N!” Miss. Kang is ecstatic to see the two of you working together. Especially when she was the one who paired you both to the internship happening in two months while being completely aware of the bitter feud that was going on back then. “And what are you two making today on this beautiful afternoon?” “We’re making croquembouche,” Jungkook says with a smile as he finishes chopping his chocolate. His announcement seems to get the attention of the other contestants, Yoongi and Taehyung whipping up their heads to look as well. The teacher is taken aback. “And you’re making that in an hour and a half?” “That’s the plan.” Jungkook grins with that bunny smile of his, channeling that Jeon charm of that almost has you rolling your eyes yet again. “It will be very impressive if you two can pull it off. Well, good luck!” Miss. Kang walks another round before waltzing back to where Mrs. Pham and Mr. Chu are waiting. She must murmur something to them because their eyes suddenly widen and they look over at your station. Jungkook works on spooning the choux dough into twenty four small rounds on each baking sheet and once it’s in the oven, the timer sets for half an hour. “It’s in.” “Good.” Quickly, you wash the raspberries and leave them to dry before preparing the caramel mixture. You pour the sugar into a saucepan and then add two thirds cup of water, allowing sugar to boil and you move to prepare the ice water. Jungkook, on the other hand, heats the one cup of heavy whipping cream until it shimmers and pours chocolate over it. He stirs until it’s all melted and lets it sit to return to room temperature after sprinkling in coarse sea salt. Once the choux is golden brown, it’s out of the oven and both you and Jungkook work side by side to pipe the ganache into the choux. “Twenty minutes left everyone!” Mrs. Pham announces. “I’ll grab the caramel,” Jungkook says and you nod, going to get the serving plate. The both of you work fast. You dip the choux into the caramel and leave it on the tray for Jungkook to begin assembly. But in the midst of working, he notices your hands beginning to shake. “Hey, Y/N.” He calls you softly and your eyes flicker up. “It’s going to be okay. We’re doing well.” You nod. It’s calming to have his reassurance and you finish dipping all forty eight in while Jungkook forms them into a cone shape, towering up to your eyes. You bring over the caramel, the consistency that of syrup, and you lightly drizzle around the choux pastry puffs. The thin threads of caramel wrap around the dessert, gold and glistening in the light. Jungkook’s brows furrow, placing the raspberries between them in the last few remaining seconds. “Here.” You help him. “Ten….nine….eight….seven….six….” Mr. Chu is counting down, watching the timer go off. Then it rings. “Alright folks, step away from your plates, please!” It looks like all the teams have finished on time, and the scent of baking surrounds your senses — breads, chocolates, and cooked sugar. The air is sweet. You look over and Yoongi and Taehyung are grinning. Their perfect lemon meringue pie is on their counter, exactly replicated from last time. But your eyes move back at your own dish, and you find pride blooming in your chest. The french dessert stands tall, choux pastry puffs piled into a cone shape and bound with threads of caramel wrapped around it. On the sidelines, Jimin, Aeri and Hoseok are cheering, and while you’re not sure if it’s for the other team or your own, you like to think both of you deserve it. “I think we did pretty well, if I do say so myself.” Jungkook gives you a cheeky smile, getting you to high five him. You giggle after your hands slap together. “I think so too. Ours has the best presentation that’s for sure. It’s only about taste now.” “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Well...I don’t know about your pastry, but my ganache filling is…” He does a chef’s kiss, gathering his fingertips together to kiss against them and then opening up his hand. You scoff. “Please, Jeon. If there’s any issue, it’s going to be the caramel or the ganache. My pastry is perfect. I would know. My specialty is going to be in pastries.” Jungkook grins, expression all too playful. “Okay, we’ll see then.” The three judges go around, giving a taste to all the dishes and giving compliments. As expected, their eyes bulge at Yoongi and Taehyung’s pie, and Taehyung seems to charm them too. All of them laugh, openly wondering if they somehow cheated and slipped in a pie from a gourmet bakery. “Very fluffy and crisp. Absolutely delicious.” Mr. Chu bobs his head in approval. “I’m not much of a pie person myself, but very well done.” “Thank you.” Yoongi offers a modest smile. They move on, having nice things to say about everyone with few criticisms. And when they come over to you two, they’re smiling and all the contestants pay close attention. “Now to the dessert of the hour.” “It’s incredible that the pair of you managed to make croquembouche in an hour and a half. It can take some up to four hours, so I’m very impressed over your ambition,” Miss. Kang admits, “There was a point I thought you weren’t going to make it. But you worked hard and finished it off, so well done.” “A very tedious and painstaking dessert to make,” Mrs. Pham notes. “But you both work well together if you can pull off something like this under such strict time conditions.” “Exceptional teamwork,” Mr. Chu agrees. They each take a choux from the top onto their plates with raspberries, and a bit of caramel. When they bite into the pastry, they quirk their brows in surprise. “It isn’t pastry cream?” Miss. Kang chews thoughtfully. “It’s salted ganache.” “Jungkook works well with chocolate and I work well with pastries so we decided to combine both our skills and put a twist to the usual croquembouche,” you explain. “Very creative!” “The salted ganache is also bittersweet and the choux is very crisp,” Mr. Chu says as he swallows. “Typically the choux has to be chilled in the fridge, but in spite of skipping that step, I cannot taste the difference. The raspberry is a good touch as well and not just for presentation.” Mrs. Pham nods at him. “It’s crunchy and has a good bitter note to lessen the sweetness of the caramel. It’s perfect.” “Well done, you two!” Miss. Kang grabs for another. Once they finish up, they take a step back. “We’ll take ten minutes to decide the final results!” After the announcement is made, they return to their places at the front as Yoongi and Taehyung slink over. “I’ll admit…” Yoongi ganders at your tower of pastries. “This is pretty damn extra.” “We take challenges seriously,” you chime with a grin and he smirks. “Can I have one?” Taehyung asks, fingers itching, eyes glimmering. “They made it sound so good.” “Sure.” But you stop him before he can grab one. “On one condition. I get a slice of your pie.” “Deal.” “So you admit it.” Yoongi cocks his brow, smiling. “Our pie is delicious.” “I never said it tasted bad.” You mischievously shrug. “I want a slice too,” Jungkook says as he leans over. “Or two.” Yoongi takes a choux off of your tower and grins. “Fine by me.” While Taehyung moans about how good your croquembouche tastes, the other contestants come swarming over, curious and wanting one as well. Jimin shouts from the sidelines to save him one and Jungkook hands them out. In the meanwhile, you go over with Yoongi to claim a slice of the meringue pie and get Jungkook’s before it’s all gone too. “Think you’re gonna win?” Yoongi shrugs, surprisingly not as arrogant as before. “Maybe. We’ll see.” You lightly scoff at him. “Where did that confidence go?” But the dark-haired man merely shrugs. He cuts you a piece and you don’t hesitate to dig in. Yoongi smiles when he sees you openly enjoying the pie without restraint and then his eyes travel across the room to where Jungkook is still happily handing out the pastries. “So this is what the dream team can cook up, huh?” “Dream team?” You frown. “Yeah. You and Kook,” he says it like it’s obvious. “You two are the ultimate pair. What? You’ve never heard people say that before?” “People? Who?” His shoulders bounce nonchalantly. “Classmates. Teachers. I’ve heard it a few times and it’s true. You make up for what the other person lacks and you work well together. It was easier to deal with when the two of you still hated one another, but now that the top two kids can work with each other, it sucks for the rest of us.” You burst out laughing. “You just have a lot to catch up on, Min. Don’t fall behind on me and Jeon.” “Kind of hard not to when you’re both maniacs.” Jungkook comes barrelling over for his piece of pie before you can eat it. You also try other contestants’ desserts before the judges return, making you all scramble back to your stations. “The results are in!” Miss Kang announces with a bright smile. “Everyone did exceptionally well today and it was difficult to come to a decision, but there’s a team in here today that was just exceptional and demonstrated that it’s possible to push the limits on taste, creativity, and presentation!” You look over to Jungkook and he grabs your hand, bracing for it. “Please give a round of applause to our winners—” Suddenly you’re being picked up. Jungkook has his arms wrapped around you and lifts you off your feet, swinging you around. After a second, he sets you down onto your feet again, but you’re bewildered. There are claps from the few in the audience, the contestants and teachers applauding and all staring at you and Jungkook. Aeri, Hoseok, and Jimin are on the stands cheering loudly. Yoongi is smiling while nodding in approval. Taehyung is grinning. And Jungkook places his palms to your cheeks. Your mouth forms into fish lips, face squished together, and he makes you look at him. Your dazed eyes meet his. “We won!” “We….won?” You blink. His doe eyes are glimmering like there are stars captured in his dark irises. Jungkook’s pretty — you never really thought about that before. “We. won. We won?!” You can’t believe it. But after some words of congratulations, it sinks in. “We won, you freaking idiot!” You jump on your feet and hug Jungkook again. He smells like chocolate and sugar, his apron dirty against yours, but you don’t particularly care. Not in this moment. “You’re not such an idiot, after all!” Jungkook laughs, boyish features scrunched up. You smile at him. Maybe Yoongi’s right. No. You know he is — you and Jungkook are the ultimate duo. Like two socks that make a pair, like two magnets that attach, like dumb and dumber. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, Jungkook!” Baekhyun approaches him in between their class break, and they fist bump each other. “I heard you won that competition with Y/N. Congrats, man.” “Thanks.” “How’s it going by the way? Haven’t seen you in a while.” The two of them are not necessarily close, but they became friends in last semester’s sanitation and safety class where they both died of boredom together. “As great as it can be with exam season coming up.” “Yeah, it’s tough.” Baekhyun sympathizes with a sigh. “Business communications is destroying me. Like I need to get at least a ninety on the finals to pass the course.” Jungkook sharply inhales. “That’s rough, dude.” “But hey, after this then it’s just our internships. That’s the only thing getting me through it. That and my girlfriend. Oh yeah, you were going to do wedding cakes, right? How do you feel about it?” “I’m still not sure,” Jungkook admits and then without thinking much, says, “The only thing getting me through it is being able to hang with Y/N.” He hasn't seen you since the competition which was two days ago, but it’s still a long time. Especially when he’s used to you plopping down beside him during breakfast, lunch or dinner — when he’s used to you banging your fist on his dorm room — when he gets texts with you whining about period cramps — when you come from nowhere and pester him till the end of the world. Jungkook’s still buzzing over the victory, but it’s been tough days one after another. The only thing that gets him through it is finally being able to see you and spend some time with you. These days Jungkook prefers being with you anyway as opposed to hanging out with Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok. They’re noisy and always worsen his headache. Sure you like to purposely egg him on and tease him, but your company is still peaceful and worthwhile. Most of the time. “So you two are finally dating?” “What? No. No, we aren’t.” Jungkook laughs it off. It’s an odd idea that still sends shivers down his spine. “Oh, okay, my bad.” Baekhyun smiles. “It’s just that I see you both hanging around together a lot and I’ve heard you talk about her a lot too.” “Yeah, we’re friends.” “So you’d be okay with it if she dated someone else?” he suddenly asks. “Uh…” Jungkook’s caught off guard, mouth opening before closing like a fish out of water. “I guess?” “You guess?” He pauses. Jungkook flashes him an odd look and Baekhyun laughs loudly, lifting his hands and backing off. “Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude or be annoying. It just reminded me of before my girlfriend and I got together.” “It was kind of hard to tell where the line of friendship and romance was and then one day I realized that friends don’t really miss each other in the way that partners do. Like when you miss them when it’s only been a short period of time, like a day or two. But anyway,” Baekhyun sing-songs, “I shouldn’t stick my nose into anywhere it belongs. I know I tend to do that and Jessica always yells at me for being rude. Oh shoot. I should get going now before I’m late. See you around?” “Y-Yeah….See you.” Baekhyun smiles and walks away, not knowing the bomb he just dropped. Jungkook’s brows furrow and he begins to dangerously wonder. He wonders if he’s supposed to miss you like this when it’s only been two full days. If he’s supposed to come to you every time something goes wrong. If he’s supposed to think of you every time there’s good news. If he’s supposed to think of you this much. Friends aren’t supposed to think about each other like this.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jungkook as a dumb dumb baker #and oc who is even more of a dumb dumb baker #which is a great irony considering theyre the best bakers lol #gOD the fluff is gonna be amped up so much y'all in the next few chapters #you're gonna be stuffed with the uwu and pass out

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