#like I'm glad she is at least in the game but the bar is in fucking hell with atlus

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[ddruxyart]

((totally okay you respond out in the open))

BUT YOU ARE SO RIGHT THAT THE QUOTE APPLIES TO HAMUKO SO WELL like already the plot is so unfair that she has to protect the whole world but then you think about how atlus treats her and completely forgot about her for the remake and ahhhhhhhhh i get so sad i miss our girl so much she deserves everything ;o;

ourhghghghg FR and dont get me started on the fucking remake. Sorry I'm gonna enter my hater mode for a second here.

It genuinely makes me so fucking mad. the whole argument for a P3 remake should not be a visual update. < Which thats what it feels likem to me. We have three versions of Persona 3, each with its own Pros and Cons but more importantly each version of the game has content that the others are missing. People constantly argue about which version to play and instead of finally creating a definitive version, with the answer, with femc, with all of the bells and whistles that both protagonists deserve Atlus decided to essentially do a vanilla P3² again. For fucking WHAT?? just so that Atlus can do another re-release in a year called P3 Reload in Moonlight or w/e?? It makes me SOOO mad. Bc I obviously want a version where Hamuko has her own cutscenes 3D Models & 2D Animated and if they do add her in later or as a dlc then I would reward/endorse Atlus BS tactics. < Bc I would be tempted, I would be lying to myself If I said I wouldn't.

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

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[lwolfcat429]

Adopted Dad! Husk + young demon Cat reader

Husk found her in an alleyway, (before pilot) and out of the **kindness** his heart (more so knowing what's like being in hell at first and being scared) he took her in, not officially adopting her but just kinda keep her, she was around ages 15-16 in pilot+First season.

" ---tel? What the fuck is this?....You!! "

When Husk first arrived at the hotel, she was there with him napping as he gambled, also grewing scared and confused when teleported to the hotel. Gripping the table, ears lower and fur raising, Husk's wings Shielding her. Alastor knows of her and stood there smiling at the two

" Ah, Husker, y/n, my good friends! Glad you could make it! " Alastor said as everyone watched, reader standing there confused

vaggie pointing at the teenage cat demon "is that a child? "

" Don't you "Husker" me, you son of a bitch! I was about to win the whole damn pot! " husk said to Alastor, Alastor explained the situation with the hotel and husker growled, hissing at Alastor" You thought it'd be some kind of big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere?! You think I'm some kind of fucking clown?! "

Alastor smirked wider " Maybe " the reader holds in a laugh, husk looks at her with sharp slit pupils, she shakes her head waving and mumbling a sorry. Alastor tells husker he can ran a bar and a have a few drinks. Also just as long as reader isn't touching or drinking said alcohol drinks. Husker hissed again " what do you take me for? Of course I'm not giving her drinks!! I don't let her touch the stuff! she just ain't old enough!!" you stood by rolling your eyes, like any teenager "--- and What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?! " Alastor glares at Husker menacingly " ...Well, you can! " Husker said, taking said booze fearful of Alastor.

Everyone was introduced to the reader, who (is kinda like loona) wants to be left alone and stays on her phone. Alastor kinda tries to teach her something about tech rooting her brain, she doesn't listen to anyone besides husk who kinda grumbles at her to at least talk or try to engage in conversation when people speak to her.

Husk's favorite moments with the reader are when she wants to help but he doesn't want her to touch booze yet, since it's so additive and he doesn't want her to ruin her life. So he goes to the second beast and tells her to cook something and serve it, which she's good at. Husk has given her a "job" (more like his little helper) since he found her, which has been her cooking food

Charlie watches Husk and Reader bond. While cooking, (husker watches so she doesn't hurt herself) the reader sprays husk with water to piss him off. Which he replied with pouring some flour on her. Alastor also watched, finding the scenario "cute" but also entertaining. Vaggie made sure husk and reader cleaned the mess, while angel stood up telling husk the reader was kicking his ass at a childish game. Nifty just joined in to clean making sure they were doing it properly

When Husk met Valentino, the reader was also there to support Angel. Telling him Valentino sucked and Angel was bad ass in standing up to him. Husk told Angel to keep fighting Valentino. Angel in a way turned into a second dad when it came to the reader, one time as a joke, the reader made angel food cake and told the Angel it was for him. A hole in the middle of the cake with icing making it look like an ass hole. Husk nearly choked on his beer as Angel was dying laughing at the joke.

Everyone else found it less amusing.

Angel helps the reader cook and makes sure her room is clean, despite his own room being kinda dirty. Angel and Husk are getting teen reader out of her shell but being protective when it comes to boys, and girls depending on their attitude.

The reader suffers with nightmares, during her life, her parents were abusive so in a fight she killed both of them, and they also killed her during said fight. So sometimes everyone can hear the reader crying or screaming. Husk is the only one who walks to comfort her. Telling everyone to give her space, he'll handle it. But Angel walks in. The reader is under her bed, husk trying to get her out and comfort her. Angels lay on the ground telling her stories, singing songs and telling her how bad ass she is for fighting back against her parents, like how she comforted him when he stood up to Valentino, this sorta helps. Reader comes out, allowing Angel and husk to hug her. Husk makes her hot chocolate to help her sleep and Angel cuddles her, rubbing her fur and singing her good night.

Charlie proceeded to hug and praise husk and Angel for taking care of the reader so well.

Scenario;

The reader got an invite to a party by cherry bomb, the cool aunt who also helps get her out of her shell, reader Mets some people. But husk, Angel and surprisingly Alastor, the strict uncle, was not pleased by this. So they went to find her. Only to see a wolf demon, holding down the reader, she's scared and tearing up. You could hear angel yelling "my baby" as he ran to her. Husk, and angel Jump on the wolf. Alastor, gently helping reader up, telling her this was why she shouldn't go to parties. He teleports her to the hotel where vaggie, Charlie and nifty comfort her.

The wolf demon was found dead, dismembered and basically Unrecognizable that same night

[somewhere-at-the-burrow]

I'm really curious about what job options are in the wizard world!! In the movies & books they show so little, like aren't there other professions besides working at the ministry, owning a shop, or being a teacher?

I was so so curious about this as well before I shifted.. so I am glad to answer!

thank you so much for the ask <33

something unique about the wizarding world is how common it is for the average wizard/witch to work a main job and a side job (usually creative). Arthur used to work two jobs, one at the Ministry and one at an antique artifacts office in Diagon Alley, but he doesn't go there as often to spend more time with the family!

because the wizarding population is so slim, many people are not afraid to show their skills and try different things, as we rely on each other in our secret little world! for example, many of my friends have wizarding parents who have written a book, sometimes about commonplace things or about research topics or art, even!

I definitely wasn't expecting this, but the wizarding world loves to share information through magazines, books, plays, etc. they have bookstores that are always releasing new books, and there are many popular magazines that have whole teams of people who work on them every day! so being a writer is definitely very common in my DR

there is also a rise in radio hosts and commentators, and there are many shows you can tune in to on certain days of the week. there are also many wizards / witches who go to quidditch games worldwide and their job is to commentate and keep radio stations informed on the games. when I went to the League cup, there was constant chatter of radio hosts broadcasting to worldwide quidditch channels!

on a different note, many people choose to go down the research / conservation scientist route, and this is usually paired with authoring a book or documenting with the Ministry. Cedric's mom (Kelley) goes on many trips to Scandinavia and those regions to document magical plants and their properties, and she comes back and writes artistic books under the pen name Kellory.

many witches/wizards will collaborate with magical governments worldwide to better help wildlife in different locations and preserve the wizarding culture around them! this also comes with people who work with animals / beasts, and there are breeders, tamers, and caretakers. these jobs need lots of training and experience, but they are so vital to the care of magical creatures.

working at inns, bars, and restaurants is also very common, and for some people that is their only job. take Rosmerta in the Three Broomsticks for example... she works and lives there, and these roles are incredibly important in small wizarding towns like Hogsmeade. this also comes with cooks, and when the barmaids and the bakers come together, absolutely ICONIC restaurants are born and food really ties us all together so it is PERFECT!

there are also traditional jobs like being a broom-maker. this is kind of a dying art with mass produced racing brooms becoming the norm, but many wealthier families will pay for customized brooms and sometimes the artists hold teaching workshops. I went to one at the beginning of summer, and I made my own broom from maple and apple branches with my dad. the broom-maker and his team did help us with enchanting it, though, but it didn't cost as much as I thought it would and I am so glad I got that experience!! wand-maker is also a very similar job! I love folk arts <3

I forgot about actors, musicians, and singers too! there are so many littler bands in the wizarding world, and it is pretty easy to gain an audience (at least for a short amount of time). a lot of popular musicians will also go on to write books too, so double whammy!

AND ALSO HEALERS—— any type, people are obsessed with wanting to become a healer in my DR! St. Mungo's is the most popular workplace, but there are also private healers who go to wealthy households and healers who work around quidditch games! it always requires schooling after hogwarts, but it is a very common route!

honorable mentions include herbologist, farmer (who tends to magical plants and sells them), greenhouse owner (similar to farmer, except more "pretty" plants), professional quidditch player / substitute player, magical photographer, traveling saleswizard, magical translators, and being a psychic medium!

I hope this helped!! if you have any more questions about any of these jobs in depth, I can try and answer to the best of my ability!

all I do in my DR is study the world around me... I am just so fascinated by it! i love rambling about these little things :,)

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 9

I know I keep saying this but I think I'm starting to wrap it up. By my current calculations I have about 3 more chapters to write (as always I have several chapters backlogged). That could go up of course, but that's the way it appears to be going at the moment.

In this chapter we have the first of their three "dates" and Eddie and Steve get personal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Heads up for sexy times, I would tell you where, but it's intermixed with a lot of conversation. Sorry.

****

Steve had never been nervous before a roleplay before. Not even his very first one. Of course that had been the homemaker one, and he thrived on them originally.

He had worn the dress as requested, but changed up the accessories. He went for simple pearl earrings and necklace. Nothing on his wrists, they would only cause problems later.

He leaned up against the bar, nursing his drink as he scanned the crowd. The thing about rolyplays was that you didn’t know exactly when the client would show up, just a ballpark figure.

Robin was on hand this time to scare off any assholes who thought that an escort was fair game whether or not they were on the clock or not.

She had already headed off three of these douchebags already and was in the process of heading off a fourth when another one breezed past her to head straight for Steve.

She was about dump ice down this alpha’s dress if she didn’t get out of her way so she could get her omega, when the woman saw the fifth alpha trying to chat Steve up.

She threw her arms in the air and stormed off, cursing Robin in at least three different languages.

Robin turned her attention to Steve, but smiled at the scene instead. Eddie Munson had arrived and Steve and he were eviscerating the asshole alpha for horning in on their date.

So she moved to sit in a nearby booth to watch them.

****

Eddie bristled when he arrived to see that Robin was having a hard time fending off alphas trying to get to Steve.

God, Steve.

Eddie had thought the man was beautiful in the glamour of his own home, but here, under the soft lights of the hotel bar, he looked like a goddess and Eddie was down to worship.

He strolled right up and slipped his arm around Steve’s waist. “Hello, darlin’. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Steve’s omega immediately preened at the attention. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

The other alpha was a forty year old man who looked like he had more money than sense.

Eddie looked him up and down. “Shoo.”

The man sneered. “You really think that someone like you could handle an omega like that? Don’t make me laugh.”

Steve rolled his eyes, tugging on his earring. “Well considering he paid for the privilege and you didn’t, I’d fuck off before I call security.”

The man pulled himself up to full height and was scenting rage, but before he could even make a move, Xander was towering behind the guy and Robin put her hand one his chest.

Steve had signaled her when he tugged on his left earring and both his handler and driver were there for there intercept before things got really ugly.

As Xander and hotel security hauled him out, he started screaming cuss words and calling Steve all sorts of names.

Eddie winced. “Not how I wanted to start our date, sweetheart.”

Steve rubbed his nose along Eddie’s scent gland. “I don’t know, I found it hot the way you swooped in for the rescue.”

Eddie smirked. “Did you now?”

Steve bit his lip and looked down to glance up at him through his eyelashes. “Of course you did, baby. I’m such a lucky omega.”

Eddie’s alpha growled low and deep and it forced its way out of his throat. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself, Stevie.” His hand slid to press on Steve’s lower back and pulled the omega flush against his chest. “What’s your pleasure?” He nodded to the glass still in Steve’s hand.

Steve dragged his hips side to side, rubbing their clothed cocks together, but before Eddie could do anything than moan, Steve stepped away from the alpha and asked for a bottle of their best whiskey to share.

Eddie sat down on the barstool next to him and they talked. With each passing moment as the alcohol hit his system, Steve was getting warmer. He could feel the heat between his legs. He crossed them to try and tame the desire that was pulsating through his very core.

Eddie licked his lips and his mouth went dry. He downed the rest of his glass and threw money on the bar top.

“Keep the change,” he growled, not even glancing to see how much he had dropped, but judging from Steve’s impressed expression it was probably a lot.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and they were off running for the elevators. Eddie pressed the up button and then pulled Steve close to kiss him deeply.

The elevator bell dinged and Steve pushed him away to dash into the open doors. Eddie gave chase and swung Steve around, bring him back to his orbit, barely hitting the right floor as he drank in Steve’s kisses.

Again the elevator bell dinged and the doors swung open again and they ran out, hand in hand.

Steve giggled as Eddie struggled to get the key card out of his pants and finally let them into the hotel suite.

Eddie got his hands under the slits in the dress, feeling up Steve’s thighs. “God, baby. I could eat you all up.”

Steve smiled but pushed back. He took a couple steps back, putting more distance between them. Once he was far enough back that Eddie would get the full effect, Steve reached up and undid the clasp on his dress.

And as described the dress flowed like a waterfall to ground.

Eddie gaped as he stood there in his just thong and shoes. “Fuck. That was even sexier than it was in my head.”

He got close enough to extend his hand to help Steve step away from the folds of the dress pooling at his ankles and right into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie kissed him like he was drowning and Steve was his salvation.

Steve was dizzy with want. There were a few alphas in his past that he had had crushes on or even developed feelings for, but they were nothing compared to the sheer want of being with Eddie.

“Yes, alpha,” he murmured. “Take what you want.”

Eddie let out a low growl that came from his chest and Steve’s omega fucking chirped back. But before the embarrassment could over take Steve for having broken through his professionalism again for this man, Eddie was sweeping Steve off his feet and carrying him bridal style to the bed.

Eddie carefully set him down and then made quick work of taking off Steve’s shoes. Now all he was wearing was his matching gold thong and looking up at Eddie with hooded eyes.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie purred. “You look good enough to eat.”

Steve let out a delight laugh. “So you’ve said, so you gonna do something about it?”

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth, bring attention to sharp canine teeth that alphas were famous for. Gotta break the skin for that bond bite, you know?

Steve giggled hysterically and slapped a hand over his mouth. He blushed a dark red. A red that seemed to reach his nipples and the tips of his ears.

Eddie gently pulled his hand away from his mouth. “It’s alright to giggle, darlin’. It was cute.”

He kissed the inside of Steve’s wrist and suddenly the shame gave way to arousal. Steve moaned.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispered, “I want to hear every delicious sound you make.” He slid off the panties and tossed them to the side.

Steve threw back his head and nearly jack knifed off the bed, crying out in pleasure when Eddie buried his head right between Steve’s legs.

Steve thought for sure Eddie would go for his cock. Every alpha Steve had been with had. Steve was well endowed for even a beta. He could never measure up to an alpha cock, as they were massive by design to be able to form a knot, but Steve had nothing to scoff at.

But, no. Eddie went straight for Steve’s pussy, licking and sucking the folds of his omegahood.

“Eddie!” Steve cried. “Oh god! That feels so good.”

Eddie nipped gently on the inside of Steve’s thigh. “What’s the matter, gorgeous, no one eat you out before?”

Steve shook his head, biting down on his lip in humiliation.

Eddie’s head snapped up in shock. “Wait, really?”

“It’s my job to take care of the alpha,” Steve murmured, “no one’s taken care of me before.”

Eddie sat up and looked him right in the eye. “What do you do for your heats?”

Steve struggled to sit up and Eddie let him. He wrapped his arms around his knees. “We aren’t allowed to share them with alphas.” He cocked his head to the side. “Not normally anyway. Only the highest of the high elite know that heats can be bought through the agency, but they’re are deliberately prohibitively high.”

Eddie licked his lips as another piece of the puzzle that was this beautiful omega fell into place.

“Like how high are we talking about?”

Steve scratched his cheek. “Depends on the omega really.”

Eddie snorted. “I meant you specifically, sweetheart.”

“Well, last time someone asked it was quoted at five million,” he replied with a wince, “but that was a couple of years ago, it’s probably twice that now.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t have the money?” Eddie asked rubbing his chin.

Steve scoffed. “She and no, she didn’t. She protested so hotly that Starcourt banned her for life.”

“That’s a really short list to be on,” he said, whistling long and low. “That must have been one hell of a hornets’ nest she kicked.”

“You wouldn’t have heard anything about it,” Steve mumbled. “Starcourt takes the lives of their omegas very seriously. They were able to buy off the press and force her into fringe media to make her look hysterical. It went so far under the radar that most people don’t even remember her.”

Eddie tugged on Steve’s legs until he was stretched out on the bed again. “Change of track. I was going to give you the most mind blowing, heat searing sex imaginable, but now I’m going worship every inch of your skin like you should be.”

Steve covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, behind them he could hear Eddie undress. Then the bed sank with the weight of Eddie as peeled Steve’s hands away from his face.

“No hiding, baby,” he murmured into Steve’s ear. “I want to see all of you.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded. “Yes, alpha.”

“Good boy,” Eddie said softly against his lips before sealing them with a kiss.

It was gentle and warm and Steve absolutely melted with it. Eddie moved from his lips to his jaw to the two little moles just under his chin. He hovered over Steve’s scent gland.

“Can I scent you, Stevie?” he muttered, voice thick with want.

Steve’s hips canted up seeking friction. “Yes, Eds. Please!”

Eddie pulled his head up to look at him in the eyes. “Eds, huh? I like it.” He bent back over the scent gland and licked along its length, causing Steve to shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “Look at how responsive you are when someone takes care of you. You’re positively aching for it, aren’t you?”

Steve nodded. “Please, Eds, I need you.”

“And how could I possibly say no to such a pretty request.”

Eddie pulled off his clothes and slid on a condom, then proceeded to make the night about Steve’s pleasure. Working every inch of his body like he was playing guitar.

Steve isn’t even sure how many times he came that night, but he was damn sure it was a personal record.

As they laid in bed together afterwards, condom disposed of, Eddie asked, “How come you switch between my name and calling me alpha?”

Steve blushed deeply. “Technically I’m not supposed to use a client’s name when I’m on a job, just ‘alpha’.”

“To keep impersonal?” Eddie guessed, wrapping Steve up into his arms and pressing a kiss on his jaw.

Steve hummed. “Yeah, but you keep breaking through my professional exterior to my gooey center.”

Eddie chuckled, nosing Steve’s scent gland. “You won’t get into trouble, will you?”

“No,” Steve said, amusement coloring his tone, making it light and airy. “And if they do say something, I’ll just tell them that since I’m pretending to be your boyfriend for the next three months, I can’t go around calling you ‘alpha’. How weird would that be?”

Eddie just nodded. “When do you have to leave?”

Steve turned in his arms so that they faced each other. “Usually, I’d slip out once you’re asleep–”

“You do what now?!” Eddie squawked, outraged.

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s for our safety. Too often alphas will get possessive if we stay the night, thinking there was more to it than a simple transaction.”

“Oh.”

Eddie hadn’t thought about it that way. He was only thinking about how the alpha would feel. But that was meaningless. It didn’t matter how they felt, because as Steve pointed out, it was only a transaction.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug. “But seeing as tonight was to set up us as ‘dating’ staying the night is kinda the point.”

“Sounds good, darlin’,” Eddie murmured, settling into fall asleep.

Steve watched as his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered close.

Now all he had to do is figure out how to prevent his heart from shattering into a billion pieces when they ‘broke up’ in three months.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you! :}} 🤡

I'm on the fence about it..

While I've poured a lot of effort into my redesigns and would love to show them off.. at the same time I don't want a repeat of Octonauts were everyone just disrespects my boundaries and copies my designs line for line. And sometimes worse, copies them and claims that they made the designs themselves.

TADC is pretty popular right now so I just think posting full ref sheets is not a good idea 💀

@beryl-shade @chickenheadguy

Yeah for a while there I didn't know anything about the game and only had OCs. Buuuuut I wanted to make proper grounded lore for my cookies, aaaand I loved the canon cookies designs so much that I just bit the bullet and dowloaded OvenBreak, Kingdom and Tower of Adventures.

I didn't like the gameplay for OvenBreak and abandoned that game pretty quick. I became OBSESSED with Kingdom and I still haven't tried Tower of adventures-

I have a very bad perception of time.. but my guess is I've been playing CookieRun: Kingdom for at least 2-3 weeks or so.. ? Its been a blast so far :)))

@wolfie-777

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember.. so I cant pin point exactly what my first OC was.. but in this OC challenge here, you can see one of the oldest that I can remember! :0 (There's no way he was ACTUALLY my very first one <XDD )

I've been to many different doctors in attempt to find the problem. <:( They believe they've found it. So now its just a matter of trying to treat it. 😔

@sergioho45

Only if they come with syrup and butter 👁️👁️

Thank you <:')) I've been doing my best to take it easy and stay away from Tumblr for a bit.. I'm hoping I get my confidence back soon and can return with some more TADC stuff <:}}}

@pewpewae (Referencing this post)

Thank you.. that means a lot to me 🥹💞💞

@caprico54

THEY WHAT

@milmaxtor

THANK YOU!! :DD AND AWWWW I WANT TO KISS THE KITTY ON THE FOREHEADDDD

@captain-skyler1987

YOU ARE THE COW??

@spookycolorooooo

Awe! Thank you! :}} AND AWW THEY'RE SO CUTEEE 😭😭😭

(Referencing this post)

There's also evidence to suggest that he wasn't dubbing my comic "for fun" or just as a "gift". It looks more like he was using it to expand his portfolio. Pretty scummy.

Also thankfully I haven't had any of his supporters flood my ask box, But I'd been on the look out for them.

@youlikwjazz004

I've watched a few of the movies but I don't really remember them <:/ my only opinion is "WOW that thing is very weirdly shaped" XDD

@lostlornghost

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with this information <XD

@misscherrypie

<:'}} Thank you so much! Your guys's support means the world to me😭😭

@knifecatss

The first thing that came to mind is that she loves to eat! XDD

@zboigames

While I'm glad you likes my Mario stuff, the ask button and my pinned post says I don't take requests!

@milmaxtor

AWWW I LOVE HER SHES SO SILLYY!!!

Realllll 😭😭for me I'd want the cautious and swift dark cacao warriors to be playable considering their role in beast yeast..

@ardent-38

Thank you! :DD Also I have not seen that movie <:((

(Also you thought of me? Awe,,🥹🥹)

So am I <XD I present to you!,

A crunch bar! :))

:Dd Thank you! I hope your Halloween/Friday was good too! :))

🥺...... Dark Cacoaaaaaa.....

(Link in asks)

Oh no... the lore is getting complicated...

Wait, don't you mean OvenBreak? They don't look like that in CookieRun: Kingdom..

Yeah so I've seen, but I'm not interested in Golden Cheese 😅 I like Dark Cacoa :)))

GAH! I BEEN BOOPED!

[coldgoldlazarus]

Okay, mostly done screeching in excitement, now it's analysis time.

First point: That purple blast of the turret getting taken out looks great.

Looks like we're opening hot, a lot like Corruption's beginning. Hopefully won't be quite as protracted as the Norion battle, though, lol.

Also, I've seen some jokes already about how this section will end with Samus getting depowered like the openings of Prime and Echoes, but given how barebones her arsenal seems to be here, (missiles and morph ball, which sometimes she just starts with and keeps, maybe bombs too) I don't expect that to happen.

The HUD and helmet edges are a lot more dialed back this time, pushed as far into the corners as they can go. Probably better for visibility this way, but I am gonna miss the more wraparound feel of the previous setup, with the missile count and hazard meter along the sides. But this isn't a bad look by any means, and we still have a fair few items here.

A & B: My bet is this is the replacement for the old hazard meter. In addition to keeping it out of the way, putting it right next to the motion tracker is a good move. I may actually remember to use that more this way.

C: Health bar is obvious, of course, but I really like the move of tucking it away into the notch on the top of the Echoes/Corruption/Beyond(!) helmet visor. The lines around it suggest an empty row above, undoubtedly for the energy tank pips once those are picked up.

D & E: Minimap is present as usual, not really much to say there, but I love the addition of a compass direction scroll beneath it, which should be helpful for putting places in context of the broader map. (Tallon IV's elevator label system, anyone?)

F: Missile count has been shunted down from the side to the bottom corner. I'm interested to see if it will grow upward, or just stay in its present spot and scale accordingly, as you collect more expansions.

G: This is the one everyone's already pointed out, but it seems that we won't have a visor OR beam swap readout.

Scan Visor is still an option as shown in the next bit, but based on the lack of an indicator in the hud, it's probably just going to be a toggle between that and combat, without anything else like X-Ray or Thermal or Echo or what have you. (Or it could be that that would only get added to the HUD after picking up a third visor, but I won't hold my breath for it.) Kinda disappointing to deemphasize one of the cool new mechanics the Prime subseries brought to the table, on one hand, but I'm still grateful to have the Scanner, and the extra ones always did struggle a bit to see much use.

Similarly, a bit disappointed this means we're probably looking at a stacking beam like in Corruption and the 2D games, (unless of course beam swapping is still there and just being left off the HUD until relevant for the sake of cleanliness #copium) but not entirely surprising; I'll live.

But what is interesting is what's there instead. The D-Pad seems to be tied to non-Beam weapons or tools instead, with the missile launcher as the only one available at present. I'm really curious to see what the other items will be; I imagine this is going to be Prime 4's unique spin on things. I saw someone suggest affinity weapons like in Hunters, but given those all function like Beams, it feels weird to me to set them against Missiles instead, ammunition requirements notwithstanding. I'm not going to rule those out, of course, but I could see this being something completely different entirely.

Again, I am very glad to see the Scan Visor is still here at least. Even better is that it uses the full-body highlighting of objects like Echoes and Corruption instead of Prime 1's icons. Pretty minimalistic layout, all told; I like that the scanning bar is a ring now. And it doesn't reflect Samus's face by default like in Corruption, which makes sense since we're not liable to have the same kind of mutation shenaniganry happening here.

I forgot to snag a screencap of this bit on my computer, so forgive the lower quality, but this scene is interesting for a few reasons.

The Pirates' breaching charges letting them into this room just as Samus passes through a gap in the wall overhead is a nice touch, and also remniscent of some sequences from early on in Corruption.

The Federation guys in here seem to be wheeling away someone or something on a stretcher in a hurry. That could be important.

Energy tank up in the rail section, but blocked by a box. Are we just going to bomb through to get it right away, or will we drop down into the room, and have to come back from the other direction to pick it up? (Please be the other direction)

Samus looking spiffy here, even at a distance. And as some have pointed out, looks like she's walking out of a portal instead of a door, pointing to either more dimension-hopping shenanigans like in Echoes, or possibly the time travel elements I recall hearing Tanabe wanted to play with at some point. (This plus the black hole look of the logo makes me think this could be more likely.)

Whatever the nature of the portal, though, the interesting thing to me is the sort of circular structure in the rock around it, suggesting a doorframe almost. A lot of the portals on Aether seemed to actively cut into the environment at random, the rock carved out in perfect spheres with fucked-up edges, and interrupting the pre-existing architecture or geology. In contrast, this looks like it was put here on purpose, implying a more controlled creation. Potentially really fascinating implications in that.

I also kinda wonder if these portals will be replacing elevators as a way to get between regions.

Ignoring the big numbers in the middle, (though they do kinda mess with my prediction that Prime 4 was going to be a 2024 holiday title to avoid getting eaten by Switch 2's inevitable 3D Mario launch title,) a couple things stand out to me here.

Giant tree in the background is giant, and I love it for that. Also looks like it's not the only giant tree here, even if still probably the biggest. I hope we get to go there later.

But in addition, we have a bridge in the middle distance, and a tunnel opening in the foreground. I will eat my hat if we don't get to cross that bridge, and my bet is that they're going to pull a similar trick here as with Skytown, letting low-poly versions of other "rooms" be visible from the current one, but dividing them with interior sections for optimization reasons, allowing for amazing landscapes of all traversible terrain. I loved that there, it looks great here, I can't wait to go explore all this myself next year.

[amethystpath-writes]

Challenge Me

Hello! I had this idea around Halloween time when all the scary movies were playing about, so excuse the morbidity!

Warning for numerous mentions of death and vague depictions of a dead body

******

Villain should have looked more unsettling. Pale, maybe, or even blue. Perhaps it was simply too good to be true. Not that Hero necessarily wished him dead, but the alternative was...her stomach churned and she reluctantly touched her own neck. If she thought about it too long, she'd feel the cold of that knife again.

This wasn't what she wanted, yet she was ashamed to admit her relief at the sight.

"You're debating who the real villain is."

She froze, staring at the body, wondering if she truly watched its still lips actually move.

I'm hallucinating, I must be. Hero stepped closer. Suddenly, the walls of the cell felt much closer. It was just her and Villain's body in this confined space. Leader had stepped away. 'So you can process without influence,' he said. She didn't mind or even acknowledge that he had shut the door until now.

Her hand waivered as she reached down, down, down until her second and third finger rested against the artery of Villain's neck. No beat.

If his heart wasn't beating, surely there was no breath. But that voice. It was so distinctly Villain's. Hero leaned down and held her own breath. Villain, too, held his, as all dead bodies did. That was until-

"Should I watch you convince yourself you've lost your mind?"

Hero was halfway across the cell before the body uttered its third word.

"Are you alive?" It came out as a desperate whisper, one so rushed she barely understood her own words.

"Depends on who you're asking." This time, the voice came from the cell door. Hero released a breath, relieved at the sight of Leader. It wasn't until she'd walked close enough to the bars of the cell door that she cocked her head. Shouldn't he have already opened it by now? Come to think of it, why had he closed it at all? It must have been her. She shut it subconsciously, right?

"I'm glad you're back. I didn't realize I closed the door behind me and you're the only one with a set of keys." She chuckled awkwardly, and tucked a strand of hair back, hoping it might also push away the thoughts of the body behind her, of it moving and speaking.

Leader smiled with closed lips and Hero noticed that, for once, his lips were chapped. He made no move to open the door, just stood there with his fingers tucked in his front pockets.

"Did you step outside while you were gone?" she ventured. Why wouldn't he open the door?

"Can't."

She wrapped her fingers around one of the bars, hoping to signal Leader to the door again. "You said he was dead, right? Surely, it's not HR's rules keeping you prisoner to the body."

The body. She was still in the room with Villain's body.

"Not Villain's. Look again."

Her brows drew together and she tilted her head. It was as if Leader read her mind, but she'd known him for at least three years now; he didn't have that ability.

"Sorry?"

"Look again," he repeated. His voice verged on amused, like he was waiting on someone's reaction to a sweet surprise.

"I'm okay," Hero said. Sweat was forming on the back of her next, against her palms, now squeezing the bars. "I've seen enough. I'm just- I'm ready to go home now, Leader. You have the keys."

"Look."

"Leader-"

He took his hands out of his pockets, and if Hero weren't so anxious, she wouldn't have noticed that it was his left hand which held the key to the cell door.

"I didn't know you were ambidextrous." Leader used his right hand, right leg, right everything for all tasks. Hero would know. They used to play games between missions; Inverted Hangman was the game. They would write phrases in reverse order, start drawing from the feet, and use their less-dominant hand. Hero and Leader were both right-handed.

"I'm left-handed," he said simply as he turned the key. Hero stepped back as the door swung open, but Leader gave her no time to step through. Instead, he blocked the way out. "When I tell you to look, I expect you'll do as I say."

His hand shot out in the next moment and grasped Hero's right wrist before twisting it. Her shoulder twisted with and she yelped as Leader grabbed her once again, this time by the shoulder. He pulled her until he was able to capture both shoulders.

Hero slammed her eyes shut and held her breath as her back was spun, held against Leader's chest. Not Leader. This wasn't Leader, and she knew what sight would be before her if she opened her eyes. A confirmation she didn't want.

Leader was dead, and the body on the table wasn't Villain's.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" There it was- Villain's voice, but this time it came from behind her. The body in front of her was as silent as before, only this time, she knew it would be pale, blue, cold, and unmoving. Dead. "I thought you would have figured it out sooner. This was supposed to be fun! Entertaining!"

Leader is dead. He was more than the leader of the team. He was a friend, and he was kind and fun and...and he didn't deserve this. Hero opened her eyes. "No." Leader wasn't just dead. He was...A whine rose in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

"He was entertaining, kept bargaining. Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with this anymore. Please. She doesn't deserve this. Kind of like what you thought, huh? Come to think of it, he was a little predictable. Everyone is."

Villain's voice made her sick. She could feel the bile rise, taste it in the back of her throat. "Is that all you want? Someone to surprise you, say something you haven't heard before?" What could she say or do that would rid him? Was it even worth it? Leader was already gone, and if he were gone, so were the others.

"Probably. Haven't figured it out yet." She felt that smile of his creep against the back of her head, felt the slight pulling of her hair as his lips lifted. "The chase was exciting." Hero hated the way he spoke to her like an old friend having small talk one year after graduating from high school. "They hid you well. I just outsmarted them. It's crazy," he said, "I've had this type of...of access to the mind for years, and yet I still learn new things to do with it." The smile fell, and he whispered, "Can you feel that, Hero?"

The cold. The thin, sharp cold she was too familiar with. A blade. Hero didn't dare swallow, no matter how much saliva instinctively gathered on her tongue.

"What's even crazier," he ventured, "is that there's no knife at all. I just found it in that hazy corner of your mind which you try to keep hidden. You can't forget me, Hero, but I like to watch you try. I like to prove to you in every new way that you can't."

Why me?

"You were the first." He said it so sweetly, as if a body didn't lay in front of them, and a body they both knew to be alive at once. "You were confident. Told me to explore the ability. Told me it could do so much and I was wasting it by hiding. Aren't you just so happy I discovered I wasn't the monster I told myself I was?"

"There are other ways"- she gasped as the imaginary knife dug deeper- "to use your abilities. I didn't mean for you to-"

"Become this?"

She nodded.

"Predictable." He sighed, and the sting of the blade evaporated. "I'm going to let you go, and you're going to run as far away from me as you can, okay?"

"How can I run when you know my every move?" Still, she kept her eyes closed, unable to face Leader, and her arms were stiff as she was held back. She ached to run, but how could she?

"Challenge me, Hero. Prove to me that I'm not the monster I told you I was all those years ago, the monster you tried to convince yourself didn't exist. Prove it." He released her. "Run."

[captain-mj]

Celebration or Funeral

Graves invites the crew out to a bar for seemingly no reason and hopefully no ulterior motives.

Price was dumbfounded at the audacity honestly. Graves had sent out an invite to the 141 and Alejandro and Rodolfo. Even included plus ones if they had a partner to bring.

He didn't understand at all. It was so bizarre. The invitation was safe. They had a team to check for anthrax and the like. But everything had been given the seal of approval.

There was a time, date, location, even coordinates in case they didn't know the place. He had checked. It was a bar in Texas that was close enough to the border that the Los Vaqueros wouldn't have to travel too far from home. It was close to where they had chased Hassan originally.

The 141 would have to fly of course, but that's cause they were stationed in Urzikstan at the moment.

Price mentioned it offhandedly to Farah, planning to toss it out and never ever seeing that traitor again.

But Farah had smiled at him. "Oh! Yeah, Alex and I were going to go. I'm glad Phillip decided to invite you guys."

"Phillip? You guys are on first name basis now?"

She frowned at him, immediately looking displeased. "Price, remember what we talked about. We've been working together for a while now."

"You can't trust him."

"I never said I did. I simply ask you trust me." Farah huffed. "And I will be going to their outing. He does this with his closest Shadows often and Alex and I always have a nice time. Maybe you all need to come along. It might be good to clear the air since we will continue to work with each other."

Price really wished he could convince Farah to stop working with him, but if she insisted on doing so, he would be there. "Fine. I'll come."

The other three agreed to come immediately, not wanting Price to walk into an ambush, relatively, alone.

The plane ride was... uncomfortable to say the least.

Ghost was currently glowering at Alex who kept glancing over at him and grimacing. He'd sigh passive aggressively and Alex would turn around to glare at him back.

"And why are those two acting like jilted lovers?" Price aske Gaz and Soap.

"Oh, Alex said he and Graves had become friends and Ghost is made because the two of them and Alejandro are friends. He considers it a betrayal to their friendship." Gaz explained.

"Ah. Are you also upset, Soap? You did get shot."

Soap nodded. "Well. I am pissed. But with Makarov around, Graves helping Farah to fight him, and him betraying Shepherd to throw him under the buss, I'm trying to stay level headed about it."

It was a shockingly grounded take. Price wished he could do the same. Inside, the anger was too hot. Too volatile. He didn't know what it was about Graves that just got under his skin, but forgiveness wasn't on the table.

Honestly he wanted to just beat him into the ground. Hurt him like he had hurt Soap and Ghost in Los Almas. Like he had hurt the Vaqueros.

He felt like a rabid dog when he thought of it. Normally, he was so much better at keeping his emotions in check.

Farah patted him suddenly and he glanced up at her. "Do you want a drink, old man?"

"Yeah. I could use one." He stood up and followed her to the cabin. The plane used to be a private one, but it had been repurposed for Farah and her Freedom Fighters. It was better for long distances than a helicopter and it had better optics when they had to make speeches or talk with government operations.

Farah didn't keep much alcohol on board, but she did keep a thing of whiskey for the two of them to share. She poured them both a glass and he took it from her gratefully.

"I understand why you're upset."

"And I understand why you're working with him." Price interrupted. "I do. I promise. It's just an adjustment. Especially finding out you socialize with him."

"Mostly I socialize with Oz actually."

"Oz?"

"His second in command! He's great. Very cool. He's shown me how to play video games." Farah smiled so softly, almost like she was embarrassed.

Price smiled a little himself, thinking of Farah being... normal. She had fought for so long. Her entire childhood spent in hell. If she enjoyed spending time with this "Oz" guy, he must not be awful. "Okay. I'm going to give all of them a chance, alright?''

"Thank you, Price. I do appreciate it." Farah squeezed his arm. "Really. I hope we can all work amicably."

They settled back down with the others and rested for this rest of the plane ride.

The moment they touched down, Farah and Alex were quickly getting out. Price bit his tongue and hung back, the 141 one quickly following his lead, even though Gaz did glance at Alex and Alex did glance back.

"Try to play nice. No unnecessary fights." Price ordered, patting Gaz's back.

"Aye, Captain." Soap responded.

Ghost stayed very quiet, only giving the slightest nod.

"At ease."

They didn't really separate. Maybe it was unease at being on unfamiliar turf or the fact that they were all enemies.

Alejandro was smoking near his car, Rudy at his right. His body language shifted, relaxing at the same time the grin appeared on his face. "Hermanos!"

Soap smiled. "Alejandro, Rodolfo. Long time no see."

Alejandro grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. Soap did the same with Rodolfo.

Gaz nodded at them. "Colonel Vargas. Sergeant Major Parra."

"I feel we're on a first name by now, Sergeant Garrick." Rodolfo smiled at him. "Nice to see you again."

Alejandro nodded but jumped into business. "Our invitation said this was an... apology. You guy's mention anything about this?"

"No. Just an invitation."

"Interesting. Let's head inside."

The bar itself was full of people. It took Price a moment before he realized it, but, with the exception of the bartender, every person in the room was a Shadow. All of them were in civvies, but he recognized a few of them from chance in encounters. They all talked about their work with no issues.

Alex had a cowboy hat on. For some reason, this was something he noticed immediately. He was currently downing a pint, trying to drink it faster than a dark haired woman who was currently beating him.

Farah was chatting animatedly with a giant man with strange makeup on. HIs hair was set up a bit like a vikings would be. He was smiling at her and nodding excitedly.

Price didn't like it.

The giant man looked at him and quickly looked... embarrassed? It was an odd look on such a big man.

Farah followed his gaze and waved Price over. He quietly walked over, keeping an eye out on everyone. Most people were drunk or getting there so there weren't many threats.

Oz smiled at him, standing up. Price didn't like that he had to tilt his head up to look him in the eye.

"It is nice to meet you, Captain. You too, Colonel. The rest of you." Oz seemed unsure of himself.

"Oz, I'm assuming?"

"Yes, sir." Oz nodded.

Farah smiled. "We were talking about a game he showed me! It's called Terraria. It's so much fun!"

"Now, Osmond." There was that familiar accent. Graves was smiling, looking... stupidly casual. A flannel shirt, tight jeans, a belt buckle. A walking stereotype of American. "Please tell me you haven't converted Farah to your nerdy shit."

"Hey!" Farah defended him. "It's fun!"

Graves shook his head, a bright blush on his face from intoxication. "Whatever you say, ma'am." He looked at them. For a moment, he made eye contact with Price and it was like a lightning bolt. But then his eyes skipped right over to him to Alejandro. He took a deep breath. "It's nice to see you again, Colonel. And you, Sergeant Major."

"The feeling is not mutual."

Graves stepped a bit closer, on the very edge of his personal space. "Alright. Hit me."

Alejandro frowned.

"One free hit. Consider it the start of us getting even with each other. There's no guns in here. No one is going to stop you and I'm not going to hit you back. So, hit me."

Alejandro weighed his options for a split second before socking Graves so hard on the side of his jaw that Oz had to catch him before he stumbled.

Graves took a split second, blinking involuntary tears from his eyes. He faced him again. "Great. Your drinks are on us." Despite the freshly blooming bruise, he still managed a rather charming smile.

Alejandro shook his head but stepped back. Rudy didn't.

"Only fair I let you have one, yeah?" Graves smiled right before Rodolfo hit him hard in the stomach.

"Stay out of Los Almas." Rudy hissed to him.

"I was planning on it, amigo." Graves managed to straighten up after a minute. "You four aren't getting a hit."

"Gonna let me shoot you later?" Soap growled at him.

Graves laughed. "Nah. Have as many shots as you want though." He nodded at them and walked away, clearly hurting a little but playing it off.

Price ordered the most expensive whiskey available. He downed a shot, keeping an eye on Graves as he went to each table. His hands touched every Shadow's shoulder. It was a light touch but Price recognized it. He did the same thing when the 141 came back from missions. A light touch to let him know they were alive.

"John." Simon muttered. "How are we feeling?"

"I'm following the Colonel's lead. He seems to be trying to run up a tab. I'm going to do the same. Farah also seems... happy. A normal friendship outside of the military will be good for her. Or as close as this is."

Ghost nodded and sat next to him. They observed them for a good minute before Gaz slunk to Price's other side. Soap was mingling.

There was country music playing. It sounded modern, but Price didn't exactly listen to the genre. He sighed and ordered another whiskey, hoping to keep himself just drunk enough to relax but not so drunk he couldn't fight.

As the songs flipped through, Price got tipsy enough to mildly enjoy himself. His friends had left him at some point, not too far away, just around.

Something came on the radio and Graves climbed on to a table. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone and he was panting a little bit.

"Turn that motherfucker off!"

"Come on, Graves it's just one song!"

"No! I've hated that motherfucker for ages and suddenly he wants to prounce around like a little bastard. That motherfuckers went to a fucking private school! Get his ass off my radio!" Graves hissed.

Price swallowed thickly. Maybe it was the whiskey, of which he was a few glasses down. Maybe it was the sudden anger and passion in his face. But he felt flushed from more than alcohol.

The next song, which sounded like a love ballad to him, seemed to please Graves who started to sing along. Despite the table being wooden, it held his weight as he stomped his boots on it. He smiled brightly as he did and someone handed him a whiskey bottle to drink during the chorus.

Price made eye contact with him and quickly glanced around to talk to his team.

HIs team which was not there.

Ghost and Simon had started to banter, making fun of people in the room despite never looking away from each other.

Gaz, who now had that cowboy hat on, had gotten swept up in Alex, the two of them currently dancing. Alex was a little out of step, his prosthetic leg probably making it harder.

Farah was now dancing with one of the pretty Shadows. The two of them twirling around.

Even Alejandro and Rodolfo were staring at each other, Rudy's hand was on Alejandro's chest.

Fuck. He didn't have anyone around.

Price looked back up at Graves who had looked away but somehow a few more of his buttons had come undone. His head tilted back, showing off a pretty neck. Fuck, his chest was heaving, breath puffing out of him.

They were making eye contact again. Graves licked his bottom lip and drank more of his whiskey.

Price got up and went to the bathroom. He took off his hat for a moment and splashed his face with water to try to sober up a little.

"Price." That fucking accent sounded from behind him. Maybe he should've hid in one of the stalls. But that would've felt juvenile.

"Graves." He looked in the mirror at him.

The man smiled. "Sorry if I'm interrupting. You alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" Price growled out, watching those red cheeks got redder.

Graves shrugged a little. "Don't know. Maybe I'm projecting on ya a little." He looked away, drinking more of the bottle.

"I'm angry."

"is it all at me?"

"No. Not just you." Price sighed and straightened up. He walked over until he was standing over him. Graves straightened up a little but he let Price take the bottle from his hand. His eyes followed his lips as he took a long drink.

Graves sighed. "Good?"

"Cheap tasting." Price tried to tease him, but it fell flat.

The pretty blue eyes peering up at him wouldn't let him go. It was infuriating. He found himself leaning down, lips pressing against Graves's, tasting the whiskey off of them. His tongue darted out to deepen it. For a blissful moment, his mouth opened up to let Price in.

Then he was turning away. "This isn't going to fuck up your team, is it?"

Price blinked and it was like reality slammed into him. "It is."

Graves smiled sadly. "John, I'd love to. But I'd be a right ass fucking up what you got going on. I think I've done enough damage."

"It'd feel great. God, I'd treat you right."

He laughed and Price felt his stomach clench. The rest of the whiskey bottle was slipped into his hand. They shared another kiss, tongues chasing each other.

"If you're sober, and still want to, go ahead and call me."

[sol-consort]

your roommate posts are so fun i was wondering what your take on like first few humans on the Citadel(say the year they got an embassy) and the impressions they left as roommatesXD

I'm glad you find them fun!

It's hard to say, the first humans on the Citadel must have been diplomats and political figures important enough to warrant having bodyguards. Getting their own housing and such.

I'd imagine no roommate situation allowed for humans yet, especially if a turian was already residing there. The first contact war made the human's notoriety spread far and wide, infamous for our "bloodthirst" and "aggressive cunning nature"

Skip a couple of years as the humans integrated into C-sec forces and we still held the bully reputation.

Sure, the other alien's views on use softened, but no one was going out of their way to befriend a human yet.

Especially, turians.

We picked on the golden goose of species, on the favourite child of the Citadel. When turians make up for more than 70% of all policeforce, it's easy to see why humans get misinterpreted as troublemakers by virtue.

Even the ones who admired humans did so in reverence to the alliance great feat of holding the line against the turian forces for three whole months. We were brand new, a newborn galactic species that just discovered mass relays, and the turians had all the advantages imaginable, yet it was them who suffered the greater mortality losses.

So both the good and bad rumours painted us in a very unkind yet strong picture.

Who would want someone like that to bunk near them? "What if the human sees me as weak? what if they pick on me? what if—" all very common doubts.

The Normandy by itself was deliberately a joint effort by the human alliance and turian hierarchy to mend relationships between the two species.

And yet, not a single turian was found aboard. At least not until Shepard recruited one. (Nihlus was a spectre, not a recruit. He was here for his own business)

Not out of malice for turians, but the first contact war memories were still fresh in Captian's Anderson mind, no doubt. All the friends he lost, all the horror he witnessed.

It would've taken years for aliens to start comfortably co-living with humans. If you couldn't afford to get your own place on the Citadel, your next step would be looking into human roommates because no other species would let you in.

But on other planets? Spaceships? It would've been a faster intergeneration.

A salarian who came to Earth to further his research only to realise how expensive everything is, deciding to look into shared housing, there were no other options besides a human. After a couple of weeks, he comes to the conclusion that you're not the vicious killer that your species's reputation makes you out to be...in fact, you're quite fun to be around.

A turian crew who were hired as security by a shipping company would eventually get used to the many humans on board, especially when the humans start inviting them to drinking games, poker night and to watch movies. They start appreciation the unique spirit humans have, one which they infected them with. becoming patients zeros to the "turian human are natural best friends" epidemic.

An asari scientist who was hired to terraform a new planet for human living, alongside the other human scientists. Working together and living in such close proximity in aluminium camps. She's wary of humans at first, doing her job then retreating to her own room. But the lack of communication really halts the progress of the mission, so she gives the humans a chance and starts attending their meetings, late night lab sessions...and it's way more casual than she expected. The atmosphere is light. It's just a bunch of scientists joking around whilst still getting work done.

-

Humans weren't the only ones with a bad reputation; qaurians and krogans shared our blight. When a human, a krogan and a qaurian walk into a bar, getting wasted drunk and complaining loudly about how they can't find a single shared housing plan because their snobby roommates keep rejecting them—only to spot each other across the bar and a figurative lightbulb lights up above their heads.

Renting an apartment together!

Yeah, the first to trust humans enough to become roommates with them weren't the "ever so righteous and benevolent" asari, or the "community service principled" turians, it wasn't even the "logic and rationality above else" salarians.

It was a quarian on her pilgrim, who spent all her money getting to the Citadel only to be faced with discrimination and blame for the geth situation.

It was a heartbroken krogan whose asari gf of 50 years just left him because her friends pressured her to. Only to end up realising how bad of an idea it was to keep the lease under her name.

Finding an offer online by a human who's looking for roommates, you already have an apartment—but the asari landlord raised the rent yet again, and working two jobs isn't cutting it—so you made a couple of posts online in roommate sites, yet all the offers you were given immediately pulled back once they realised you're a human.

Your post was like a beacon in the dark for them, they haven't even met a human before, but what's life without risk?

[accio-sriracha]

Could you please make a fic on basketballer Remus and Sirius drooling over his boyfriend, you're works are great

Sorry about the late reply, but here you are, my love!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Wins and Losses (But Mostly Wins)

A Wolfstar One-Shot.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"God, these games are so boring." Lily complained, walking up the bleachers to the very top row, "Why did you pick this as our extra credit assignment?"

"Quit whining, the game's gonna start soon." Sirius hushed her, sitting beside her and pulling out his drawing pad, "It'll only take like an hour, than we're free."

"Damn, I should have brought my sketchbook." She groaned and leaned back against the wall, "Can you at least keep me entertained so I don't have to sit through this alone?"

Sirius glanced up from the paper to see her signature puppy dog eyes, "First of all you know those eyes don't work on me. And second of all stop acting like I'm torturing you, it's just a game."

"Hi! Mind if we set up in front of you?" A bubbly voice asked from the court. It was the cheer captain, Pandora, her hair pulled up into a ponytail so high Sirius couldn't imagine how it didn't hurt.

"Um... sure." He gave her a quick nod and turned back to Lily, "You'll survive the game."

She groaned again and leaned dramatically on his shoulder, "I think I might actually die."

He laughed and shoved her off just as the rest of the cheer squad made their way across the court.

"Isn't that Alice?" Lily asked quietly, pointing out one of the girls in the group, "From art?"

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, some people have other hobbies, you know."

She rolled her eyes and settled into her seat, her expression nothing less than dreadful.

Sirius quietly put his things away, not wanting to miss the announcer calling the players out.

The bleachers filled up quickly, the smell of snack bar food came right along with it. Sirius' stomach rumbled at the thought. Lily seemed to be thinking the same thing,

"I'm going to go get nachos, want anything?"

"I'll take some too, thanks."

She nodded and stepped through the crowds down to the floor, making her way towards the other end of the gym.

The announcer started speaking about the game, something about emergency exits and to grab a bite to eat before it begins.

His first player announcement was the team captain for the other school, a guy named Malfoy with long blond hair, he looked like the type of person who caught ants on fire for fun as a kid. He announced the rest of the team, most of them just as sour-faced.

Sirius felt a hum of anticipation shoot through him as he began announcing the home team.

"Hogwart's team captain, number 60, James Potter!"

A tan, curly haired guy jogged out onto the court from the other direction, his expression wasn’t serious like the other team's had been. He gave a dorky smile and waved at the crowd before he reached the center of the court were the Ref stood, who's name Sirius remembered was Miss Hooch.

"Number 03, Regulus Black!"

Sirius' head whipped towards the locker room doors as his brother walked out. He had the same goofy expression the captain had on, only he never stopped to wave to the crowd. He gave Potter a weird handshake and jogged over to collect one of the practice balls from the side.

A couple names were called Sirius didn't recognize, he was too busy watching Regulus warm up with free throws. It didn't look like he missed a single shot.

"Number 29, Peter Pettigrew!" A nervous looking boy came out then, joining the rest of his team at the back of the line, he didn't seem too eager to hold the ball for long.

Sirius glanced towards the snack bar, glad to see Lily was still in line. He checked the time, the game would start in less than five minutes.

Secretly, Sirius was relieved by Lily's distraction. He didn't want her to know the real reason he picked the basketball game for their assignment.

"Number 71, Remus Lupin!"

Taller than most of the players and far better looking, Lupin jogged across the court. He had a slight grin and honey colored eyes that scanned the crowd. Sirius' heart fluttered when they landed breifly on him.

There it was.

He turned and watched the doors swing open again.

Lupin took his spot at the back of the line to warm up, shaking his tawny hair out of his face. He was, in every aspect of the word, beautiful.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up when he realised he was staring, he quickly straightened up- literally- and glanced away before his eyes had the chance to get too dopey.

Potter saw Lupin and beamed, running over to ruffle his hair even further. Lupin laughed and pushed him away, pointing at the basket while he spoke.

Sirius couldn't tell what was said, but Potter's expression held a challenge as he ran over to get an extra basketball.

Sirius felt his heart sink along with the ball. Did Potter wink at Lupin for a reason? Did he like him? Were they together in secret? What if they were? How long could this have been going on?

Sirius didn't miss the quick wink he gave Lupin before making the shot.

He shook his head in attempt to clear his thoughts. He knew he shouldn’t down that rabbit hole, it wasn't going to do him any good.

The cheerleaders started their first chant, waving their pompoms and trying to get the crowd excited. Sirius couldn't care less, unable to tear his eyes away from number 71.

"Hey, nacho delivery." Lily's voice called over the noise as she climbed back up the bleachers, narrowly avoiding a rogue toddler.

"Thanks." He accepted the tray from her and moved his things so she could sit down beside him.

"What'd I miss?" She asked, watching the teams warm up. Sirius shook his head,

"Nothing yet, just the announcements."

The ref called for the jumpers to go to the center, Malfoy and Lupin stepped away from their teams. Malfoy had a sneer on that Sirius could see even from the bleachers.

"That guy looks like a total douche." Lily whispered, nodding towards him. Sirius laughed,

"Trust me, he is." He agreed.

"This is the coin flip right, where they decide which side to play on?"

"Welln sort of, it's called a tip off, it's based on whoever gets the ball first."

The rest of the players gathered around them at a distance, Potter looked certain they would be getting the ball.

"Why did they send 71 instead of 60? 60 is the captain right?"

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, 60 is the captain, but 71 is the tallest. They want him to jump for the ball since he'd have the highest chance to get it."

Lily frowned suddenly, "Since when do you know so much about basketball? I thought you hated sports?"

He cleared his throat, trying not to seem obvious, "I've watched a few games."

She rose an eyebrow but otherwise let it go. They turned back to the court just as the whistle blew.

Lupin did, in fact, get the ball, passing it immediately to Regulus. Regulus dribbled it across the court and passed it to the closest open player, a scrawny kid with the number 52 on his jersey, who passed it to Potter next, who scored with little resistance. The crowd went crazy at such an early basket. Potter raised a hand towards the stands, nodding excitedly and smiling as the team clapped him on the back.

"Damn." Lily laughed, "They really don't stand a chance do they?"

Sirius shrugged, feeling a proud smile tug at his lips, "Not really, no."

"You seem pretty invested." Lily commented, munching on a chip, "You've barely even touched your nachos."

He found himself watching Lupin again, the way his expression was so focused, how his hair somehow looked even better clinging to his forehead with sweat.

Gods was he a sight to see.

Even on defence his skills were incredible, he managed to block the person from scoring, passing the ball to one of his own teammates instead.

He looked down at the uneaten tray, in all honesty, he'd completely forgotten they were there.

"I'm just watching. I figured might as well enjoy it since we're here." He feigned indifference, barely managing to pull his eyes away from 71.

She shrugged, looking towards the cheerleaders, "I think they're going to do a stunt."

He had no idea what that meant, but didn't really care enough to ask. His eyes still tracked Lupin as he jogged across the court, when the ball was finally in his possession, Sirius was practically at the edge of his seat.

"And 71 scores! Another point for Hogwarts!" The announcer called. Cheers erupted once again from the stands. Lily clapped half-heartedly, her attention still focused on the cheer squad as a few of them gathered in a weird looking circle.

"That was Lupin." Sirius told her, even though he knew she wouldn't care, "The one with the ball right now, he's the captain. His name's Potter."

She nodded, not even bothering to glance at them.

"One, Two, Three, Four! Our mighty Gryffindors have scored once more!" The cheerleaders shouted, bringing his attention briefly to them when he saw a girl being lifted into the air. She held a sign that read Go Hogwarts in black and gold.

"And Malfoy gets the ball, passing it to 82, who passes it back to Malfoy... who scores! Three points to Slytherin!" The announcer called as the board changed again.

The other side of the stands cheered now, their own cheerleaders chanting about getting on the board.

Sirius turned back to watch Lupin again and noticed his attention wasn't on the court anymore, he was looking at the Hogwarts cheerleaders.

Sirius saw Potter looking in that direction too, even as the other team dribbled the ball towards their side of the court.

"What are they staring at?" Sirius whispered, Lily gasped right as he realised, the girl who'd been tossed into the air had accidentally kicked one of the other ones in the head, knocking them over.

There wasn't anyone there to catch her.

"Shit-" Sirius started to get out of his seat, but loud footsteps across the court made him realise both Lupin and Potter were already running towards her.

Potter slid on his knees with his arms held out, catching her just before she hit the ground. Lupin helped up the others who got injured.

The crowd cheered, and for a second, Sirius thought it was for them. Then he realised it had come from the other side of the gym, the Slytherins had scored a basket while Lupin and Potter were distracted.

Potter sighed when he realised, looking thoroughly upset. He still helped the girl to her feet, talking quietly with her for a moment to make sure she was okay. The coach called for a timeout, jogging over to pull Lupin and Potter back to the player's bench.

He didn't hear what was said, but he could tell from their faces they were being lectured.

Lily scoffed, "I can't believe they're getting in trouble for saving her. What he did was-" She shook her head, "This is ridiculous."

"Do you... like him?" He teased. Her face got bright red immediately

Sirius watched her, he had noticed the way she looked more than a little awed when Potter ran over to catch her. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him now.

He knew the feeling.

"What? No! Of course not!" She hissed, turning away quickly.

"I think you do." He poked her side, wiggling his eyebrows at her, "You liiike him." He drew out the word, making a heart with his fingers.

She shushed him, putting her head in her hands, "Oh my god, you're so embarrassing."

He laughed, patting her shoulder gently, "It'll be alright Evans. I'm sure you'll have the chance to charm him soon enough."

She scowled at him and turned back to the game.

The players took their positions on the court without Potter and Lupin. Pettigrew and another nervous looking player were put in there place instead.

Sirius realised once the whistle blew that he didn't care a single bit about the game. Finding himself content to watch Lupin on the sidelines instead.

"Look who's uninterested now." Lily whispered when the stands cheered and he didn't react.

He was greatful in a way that Lily was also watching the bench, so she couldn't see his expression as Remus tilted his head back to get water from a squirt bottle.

Remus watched the game intensely, groaning and putting his head in his hands when his replacement did something wrong.

He turned to find her watching him with amusement.

"What? No, I just- I was thinking about my assignment next week."

She rolled her eyes, "Please, like I haven't noticed you watching him the entire game."

He could feel the blush on his face and looked away, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She gasped, "Oh my god. That's why you picked this extra credit opportunity, didn't you? You just wanted to watch Lupin!"

"Keep your voice down." He laughed, holding a hand over her mouth, "You don't have to shout it."

She licked his fingers and he jerked his hand back. The smile on her face was disbelieving,

"I can't believe you've been lying to me this whole time just so you can pine for some jock!"

"Look, I can explain, okay?"

"Malfoy scores, again! Another basket for the Slytherins." The announcer called.

She shook her head, "Not another word, lover boy." She swiped his untouched nachos, "I'm taking these as punishment for your wrongdoings."

"I've gotta go to the bathroom, be right back." He told her, she nodded and gave him a quick wave,

"They really need to get them back out there, the team is drowning without them." Lily commented.

Sirius nodded, watching Regulus' furious expression as he chewed out one of the stand-ins for whatever it was he didn't do.

"Don't drown!"

He rolled his eyes, stepping carefully down the bleachers until his shoes hit the court.

"Lupin, where the hell do you think you're going?" He heard the coach call. Lupin turned around with a mock salute,

"Bathroom, sir." He retorted. The coach raised a hand to yell at him but was drowned out by the noise from the stands.

Sirius had to stiffle his smile.

"And that's it for this half folks, I am proud to introduce our cheerleaders for their half-time routine!" The man's voice came from the loudspeakers again. Sirius picked up his pace a little more, not wanting to block people's veiw of the performance.

"Lupin." He greeted when he stepped into the bathroom.

Lupin turned, tilting his head to the side as he leaned against the sink,

"Sirius." He whispered.

"We alone?" Sirius asked, lowering his volume to match. Remus nodded,

"Yeah, we're alone."

Sirius couldn't contain his smile then, his eyes roaming his boyfriend's body hungrily,

"Game's not over yet." He murmured, leaning in to press kisses all over Sirius' face, "The next basket's for you, darling."

"You played good today." He walked up and slung his arms around Remus' shoulders, "You looked even better."

"You gonna point at me like they do in the movies?" He teased. Remus picked him up and turned him around, sitting him down on the counter,

"Maybe I will." He kissed him deeply, his hand reaching up to tangle in Sirius' hair.

"I spent forever working on that bun." Sirius complained when they pulled away.

Remus winked, pulling him into another kiss, "You know I'm just going to mess it up the next time we see each other."

Sirius hopped down, checking the door to make sure nobody was coming, "It seems to be your specialty." He laughed.

"Alright, go on then. Your friend will get suspicious if you're in here for too long."

Sirius perked up suddenly, "Does James have a girlfriend?" He asked. Remus thought about it for a moment,

"No, why?"

"My friend, her name's Lily." Sirius rose an eyebrow and Remus nodded.

"Got it. I'll point her out to him and send him your way after the game."

Sirius pulled Remus closer by his jersey, "You better be coming my way after the game too." He kissed him one last time, "I'll see you tonight?"

Remus nodded, "Love you."

"Love you too." He called back as he turned and made his way to the door, fixing his hair the best he could.

He made it back to his seat a few minutes later, Lily eyed him skeptically,

"Where have you been? And... why do you look like that?" She stared at his hair. He pulled it quickly out of the bun,

"I fell." He shrugged, "Some arse bumped into me and ruined my hair."

She narrowed her eyes, "Mhmm."

When half time was over the players filed back onto the court, Sirius' eyes caught Remus instantly. Watching the muscles in his arms as he practiced, the way he looked with his lip caught between his teeth, how his chest rose and fell, showing off the contours of his back beneath his jersey...

And he was staring again. He looked away, trying not to be too obvious.

The game resumed, Sirius noticed Lily was a little more invested too.

Remus had the ball now, Sirius felt his heart beat faster, watching as he dribbled to the other side of the court. He threw the ball and...

"Three points to Hogwarts! Remus Lupin with the score there." The announcer called.

Remus' eyes skimmed the bleachers, he found Sirius sitting in the top corner and pointed towards him, the most ridiculous smile on his face. Sirius couldn't stop his own smile from spreading either.

People in the crowds looks around for who Lupin pointed towards.

Lupin, the popular jock who could have absolutely anyone he wanted in the stands.

Was pointing at Sirius.

Lily gasped, "Was that to you?" She hissed, trying to avoid all of the stares from the stands. A few of the cheerleaders looked over at them too, he could hear them giggling.

"Maybe." He whispered back. Something in his expression gave him away and she gasped again,

"Oh my god. You're together?" Her voice was not exactly quiet, people around them now spoke in hushed whispers, he could see a few point between him and Remus excitedly.

Well, there goes that secret.

"How did you- When did you-" Lily started before she shook her head, "You know what? I don't even want to know."

Sirius laughed, "Sorry Lils, he didn't want to come out yet."

"Well I think he just did." Lily commented, nodding towards the buzz coming from the home seats.

Sirius watched understanding dawn on Remus' face as he listened to the crowd. They knew.

Potter looked around, confused about the amount of times Lupin's name was said from the stands,

"What's up?" He asked Remus, Sirius had to read his lips to make out what he was saying.

Remus only shrugged, turning back to focusing on the game.

The game went by quickly, Hogwarts made a lot more baskets. (Mostly thanks to Potter, Regulus, and Remus)

"And that's the game! Hogwarts won! Thank you to everyone who came out to support tonight! There will be-" The announcer went on about sponsors and other things.

Sirius didn't care. His eyes were locked onto his boyfriend.

"Oh god you're drooling over him right now." Lily pretended to gag.

He only smiled. Most people had already sort of pieced it together by now, why not go all the way?

Sirius started down the bleachers without waiting for Lily, bee-lining towards Remus before the people in the stands had the chance to get up.

Remus saw him coming, his smile was easy, he knew what Sirius was planning. He held out his arms and let Sirius barrel into them, swinging him around in a circle before he set him back down,

"You really don't do things halfway, do you?" Remus joked as all of the eyes in the gym fell on them.

Sirius shook his head, "Nope." He whispered, just before he pulled him into a long kiss.

Potter was the first to start cheering, running over to jump onto Remus' back excitedly. They were pulled away from each other as Regulus came over and wrestled Sirius into his arms.

"Dude! Why didn't you tell me?!" He called, ruffling Sirius' hair up, "Congrats!"

Sirius laughed and hugged him, listening as the students all processed what just happened.

Remus and Sirius were together.

And now everyone knew it.

The after party was a bit wild, Remus led Sirius through the crowds, dragging him around by their linked hands as he introduced him to everyone.

Sirius couldn't help but smile every time Remus proudly called him his boyfriend.

A short while later they accidentally walked in on a couple in one of the bedrooms. They were about to apologise and shut the door when they realised who it was,

"Lily?" Sirius called in disbelief.

"James?" Remus said at the same time.

The pair broke apart, both red in the face and a little disheveled.

"Sirius!" Lily pulled the blanket over them, covering things he really wished he hadn't seen, "What are you doing here?"

"Teaching you idiots to lock a door apparently." He replied.

Remus snorted, "Have fun guys."

They shut the door, staring at each other for a moment before they broke out in laughter.

"Oh my god." Remus wiped a tear from his eye, "I guess we didn't need to introduce them after all."

Sirius shook his head repeatedly, "I really did not need to see that." He groaned.

Remus tugged his hand, "C'mon, I'll get you a drink, hopefully we can take your mind off of it." He was still laughing all the way downstairs where they met back up with Regulus.

Needless to say, the five of them became very good friends, spending the rest of their time in college together.

Lily and Sirius went to every single basketball game after that, drooling over their partners and giggling when they dedicated every basket to them.

And there were a lot of baskets.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[cielie-voss]

Hey there!

Stumbled across your blog and fell in love with your Eddie Fics! 😍

If you're still taking request, I'd like to request something Rockstar!Eddie x Reader, where Reader works at a bar or cafe and Eddie is on tour with Corroded coffin and meets her at work. She doesn't believe that he's a rockstar and thinks he just wants to impress her until one day, she accepts his silly pickup lines and goes on a date with him.

If you don't like this, it's totally fine. Hope you have some peaceful holidays (and a very unmerry Christmas, absolutely loved this!)

Rockstar!Eddie x fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long, I hope you like it! I just wanted to write something short and simple (ha, jokes on me, short and simple seems to be something not possible for me). I had so much fun writing this!

Warnings: Rockstar AU, Fluff, bad pickup lines, idiots in love, mutual pining, Reader is a writer, some petnames, takes place in the 90's. Wordcount: ~8k ("something short and simple") Summary: After some crazy years of university stress, heartbreaks, family problems and the wrong kind of friends, Y/N decided to take a year to discover herself, figure out her dreams and wishes. With her newfound freedom she just wanted to do some Minijobs and travel the world. No university stressing her with exams, no annoying family who's trying to tell her what to do, no backstabbing friends, and most importantly: no dating and no more heartaches. But boy oh boy, she could've never been more wrong. Taglist: @violetmiroh If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗 Masterlist

Finally. 

After years of stress and torture you finally found some freedom. You successfully graduated college with your major in literature, ready to enter the real world. And that’s not the only thing you had to master throughout the past years.

“Why don’t you study something useful? Maybe business administration? Or marketing?” Your parents had perfected the game of making your life a living hell. Literature was something useless for them. Something where you would never get a real job. But you wanted nothing less than to write. Write about everything. Poems. Dramas. Novels. You wanted to tell the world about the little stories in your mind. But writing wasn’t a job. At least in your parents opinion.

“Did you meet a nice guy? At least some guy that likes girls who can’t get their noses out of these damn books? Any friends other than Tolkien or Poe?” God, these people are so ignorant. Everytime you visited your family or called them, your mother had another blind date arranged for you.

“You remember Daron? Yeah, the Daron you went to elementary school with. His fiancée cheated on him, you know? He’s such a nice and handsome guy. Why don’t you call him? Wouldn’t it be sweet if you guys meet again after years?” No, mom, that wouldn’t be sweet. 

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry. I totally forgot I asked Fred and his mother to come over for lunch. You remember Fred, right? He used to tease you back in middle school. You know what they say: lovers like to tease each other!” You were glad your mother turned away from you as you were rolling your eyes dramatically. Laughing at her own ridiculous joke, she turned to Fred and his mother. 

To be honest, your dating life was just as miserable as it could be. Even without your mothers help. And not because of what you were studying or your interests, like your mother said. Or because of your casual and comfy style or mostly reserved and introverted personality. Your heartaches and frustration with the male gender was mostly due to their immature behavior. 

Over the years you experienced nearly all sorts of failed romances. Caught them cheating, being ghosted, unknowingly ended up as a one night stand, being the affair, constant fighting, being rejected and creepy mothers who tried to arrange a wedding after two weeks of going out or guys with a special relationship to their mothers. Some weird Norman Bates kind of relationship. There was even one guy, whom you really liked, that sadly turned out to be gay.

“Why did you have to move so far away?” Well, this one is self-explanatory. 

“At least you could call us every second day.” Thanks, but no thank you. You didn’t want to give them another way of terrorizing you with their unrealistic ideas and expectations.

All you wanted was to live your life the way you wanted to, and not how they wanted your life to be. No parents, no stress, and most important: no dating. Just you.

So after you graduated and broke up with the seemingly most perfect guy, who turned out to be a rotten liar and the most unfaithful piece of shit, who didn’t just cheated on you multiple times, but also stole your hard earned money, you decided to take a year off to travel around the world, to find yourself. You sold your car and the stuff you wouldn’t need anymore and with that money, you started your journey. 

On your trip you’ve seen the probably most beautiful cities and met even more wonderful people. To afford your stay you worked from time to time in little cafés and lovely bars. In exchange for room and board you worked as a temporary worker on farms. In your free time you sat down and wrote. The people and landscapes were so inspiring, you filled one notebook after another with short stories, poems and even started to work on something that might be your first novel. Every now and then you sent your works to different agencies and participated in writing competitions, improved your writing and earned some reputation for your works. 

London was the city you stayed the longest. You stayed with a lovely family, the Bakers, who owned a little pub in the outskirts of London. They treated you like family, like a family you never had but always wished for. You helped them with their household, tutored the kids after school and worked downstairs at the pub in the evening. 

When you had a day off, you’d usually sit down at the bar, a pint of ale in front of you, pen in hand. The words seemed to flow right out of your pen, as natural as breathing. 

You could’ve never wished for a better time. The Bakers treated you like a daughter they never had, and even the regulars at the pub treated you like one of the Bakers. Between lovely drunken blue-collar workers, who loved to tell their stories and sing their work songs, you felt somehow at home, you felt safe and came out of your shell. With each day you became more extroverted, literally flourishing and bristling with self-confidence. 

And it was in that pub where you met the guy in Jean's vest who stood out like a sore thumb in this scenery. From behind the bar you couldn't help but notice how his leg bounced up and down like a nervous child. After some minutes you decided to help him calm down a bit.

“Are you waiting for your date?” With a warm smile you looked down on him.

“Huh?” As if you pulled him out of a trance, he winced and looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. You huffed at his reaction and sat down the pint in front of him.

“I asked, if you’re waiting for your date to show up.” The smile remained on your lips as you looked into his big brown puppy eyes. His eyes darted to the pint you just gently shoved towards him.

“Don’t worry, that’s on the house.” You assured him.

“Thanks, uh … “ Again, like he was in a trance-like state, he shakes his head and looks back at you. “My name’s Eddie.” He reached his hand out to you and you shook it. You noticed the unusual rings that adorned his fingers and the little bats that were tattooed on his forearm. He obviously didn’t belong here. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m Y/N.” 

There was something in the way he looked at you that you couldn't identify. So after a short moment of awkward silence you took a sharp breath in, pulled your lips into a thin smile and said “Anyway, let me know if I could do anything for you. And good luck with that date.” You gave him a wink and turned back to your bar to serve the regulars who are now, bit by bit, rolling along.

As the hours ticked by and the bar settled into its usual hustle and bustle, you found yourself repeatedly returning your gaze to Eddie. Something about his appearance had a mesmerizing effect on you. And there was no way you could say what it was that captivated you. 

Slowly he began to warm up a bit, engaged in conversations with some other guests, but without further notice, he also caught himself repeatedly trying to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Make sure he gets home safe!”, you called out to the cabbie, a lovely man named Barnaby, after you accompanied a slightly drunk Tommy outside to the cab.

“Y/N, my dearest!” Tommy slurred after you handed him over into Barnaby’s hands. “One day, I promise, I will introduce you to my son! I’ll gladly take you as my daughter-in-law!” 

“Go home and sober up, then we’ll see!”, you laughed and waved the drunk redhead, with a face glowing as red as his hair, goodbye.

“Isn’t she just the most loveliest person on earth?” Tommy asked, now turned to Barnaby, who was just smiling and nodding in approval.

Quietly grinning to yourself you closed the door and headed back to the bar. It was already past midnight, the pub slowly became quieter until Eddie was the only one sitting there, his ringed fingers wrapped around his emptied glass. 

“I guess it’s time to kindly tell me to fuck off, isn’t it?” You had to admit that Eddie’s puppy eyes made you soft.

You cocked your head and with an apologetical expression you nodded. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie just shrugged, a sheepish smile playing around his lips as he carefully slid the glass towards you. 

“It’s okay. I’m glad I had the chance to be stood up and get you as my substitute-date.” He got up from the old, shrieking bench, winked at you and left the bar.

“Keep the change, Y/N my dearest!”, he chanted. 

Only now did you look down at the glass and saw the bills peeking out from underneath. You wanted to shout out to him “Eddie, I think you made a mistake!”, but he was gone and left you with this lavish tip. 

For a moment you stood there, stunned by this man, before Mr. Baker could pull you back to reality. “C’mon Y/N, it’s late, go to bed and get some sleep.” You turned around to face him, the human version of a teddybear, looking down at you with a knowing smile. You quickly took care of closing out the register before stuffing Eddie's tip into the big tip jar.

“No, no, no. You keep that.” Mr. Baker pulled out the bills and handed them over to you. “It’s yours.” And before you had the chance to protest, he patted your shoulder and gently pushed you towards the door that leads to the family’s private apartment.

You tried to find some sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, you saw this lovely smile and these big round puppy eyes. God damnit! Why did he have to be so cute?

The next morning you pulled out your notebook, after multiple failed attempts to fall back asleep again. Maybe some writing would banish this handsome face out of your mind that kept you awake. But jokes on you! 

Your mind always wandered back to this guy, his messy hair, the sloppy smile, the tattoos on his arm, his big, brown eyes … It was enough to drive you up the wall. So instead of accidentally turning the love interest in your little fantasy romance into a copy of Eddie, you put down your writing stuff, took a deep breath and left your room.

When you entered the small kitchen, Penelope Baker, who everyone called Poppy, already waited for you with a knowing smirk dancing around her thin lips.

“Good morning, lovely.”, she chirped, her words underlined with a cheeky undertone that made you stop mid motion. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion and cocked your head before you let yourself down on your chair.

“Good morning.”, you answered with a skeptical frown.

“Coffee?” As if nothing had happened, Poppy offered you the coffee pot. With a nod you cued her to pour the steaming hot liquid in your cup. You thanked her and wrapped your hands around the cup to warm yourself a bit. The smell of this freshly grounded coffee filled your nose and was already enough to wake up your still sleepy mind.

Just as you thought Poppys previous smirk was just another one of her quirky habits and meant nothing, her voice turned into that typical ‘I’m your mother and know exactly what’s going on’-tone as she said “So Theodore told me about that guy last night.”

For a split second you froze, then let out a sighed “Oh my god.” 

“What? Teddy said he seemed to like you. Oh lord, isn’t that adorable? A young, handsome, mysterious guy showing up, unexpectedly sweeping this young lady off her feet.” In a dramatic motion she clutched her hands to her chest and jumped out of her chair.

“Oh, young love! I would give anything to feel like this again in my old days.” As if she was dancing with the ghost of a long lost lover, she seemingly floated through the small kitchen.

With a frustrated sigh you buried your face in your hands. Your grumbled “Oh my god” was more embarrassed this time.

“But you do know I’m right here, my love?”, Theodore coaxed, as he leaned back in his chair and watched his wife with a raised eyebrow.

“Tz, I’m not talking about you, Teddy.”, she waved him off.

Sensing the upcoming argument, even if it’s not meant seriously, you grabbed your cup of coffee and sneaked out of the kitchen. “Okay. I guess that’s my cue to leave you two alone.”

The rest of the day you spent with Nathan and Ethan, helping them with their homework. You haven’t met a lot of twins in your life so far, but you never met twins that were so different from each other than Nathan and Ethan, which made tutoring them a real challenge. But sitting between these bickering boys was still a better alternative than being ribbed about Eddie by Teddy and Poppy.

Since it was your day off and you couldn’t focus on your writing upstairs in your little room, you went down into the pub earlier than usual. Your hopes were high that the hustle and bustle around you would distract your mind a bit so you could focus on your writing. 

The first few sentences had a hard time coming out. But after you got back into your flow the words came out on their own. That was until you noticed a brown haired figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Aw, did you miss me?”, you leered and leaned back to face Eddie with a smug grin. “Or do you wanna give your date a second chance?”

“Well, actually,” Eddie declared, nonchalantly dropping into the seat opposite you, “I was just trying to get away from some of these pushy fangirls, you know?”

As if he was discussing the weather, he leaned back, fingers tapping a casual rhythm on the table. “Yeah, sure. Clingy fans,” you joked, closing your notebook and using the pen as a bookmark.

“Listen, being a rockstar isn’t easy when you’re smoking hot like me,” he explained, a self-assured chuckle escaping him as he tilted his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor.

You disappeared behind the bar and met a very amused looking Mister Baker.

With furrowed brows, you leaned to your side in an attempt to peer through one of the beautiful stained glass windows. Eddie followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a puzzled expression after trying in vain to discern what had caught your attention.

"What?" he inquired, reverting to the shy and nervous behavior from yesterday.

You couldn't contain the giggles bubbling out of your chest as you leaned back and faced Eddie again. "Nothing. I was just trying to get a glimpse of all those fangirls you escaped from."

"Oh, great, you're making fun of me," Eddie stated, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon, Eddie. You're trying to convince me you're a rockstar." You waited for a response, anticipating another remark about his alleged status as a musician, but were met with a sulky Eddie instead.

"Okay, I'm sorry, Mister Rockstar," you apologized playfully. "How about a drink? My treat."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered in an exaggerated pouty manner.

 “Don’t you dare say a single word!”, you hissed to the man and to emphasize your statement, you raised a warning finger. Still grinning, he playfully raised his hand, mimicking the action of locking up his lips with an imaginary key.

You poured beer into two pints and placed one of them in front of Eddie.

“Cheers.” With your glass raised for a toast, you added “Let’s start over again. Hi, I’m Y/N.”

His eyes darted between you and his beer until he eventually gave in. “Hi Y/N, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.” As you clinked glasses you locked eyes, which unexpectedly sparked something inside of you. Something you couldn’t quite explain, but it felt unexpectedly good. 

For the rest of the evening, your intention to continue with your manuscript was completely forgotten and replaced by the desire to talk to Eddie for hours. He asked about your notebook and after you told him that you were about to write a novel, you found yourself in a lively conversation about your favorite authors with him. 

You talked about Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, George Orwell, Virginia Woolf for hours without noticing how late it was getting. There was this spark between you and him that ignited a fire within your soul, a fire that became bigger and bigger the more you talked about your interests. And when you spoke, his eyes were literally glued to your lips. You’ve never felt more comfortable in your life than in this exact moment, talking to a stranger about your biggest passion and your dreams to publish your first fantasy novel. 

A few more beers followed, Teddy even brought you some snacks. Then Eddie told you about the DnD campaigns he planned and plotted years ago with his friends, his love for Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and assured you that he’ll be the first one to buy your book. When you told him, you never had the chance to play DnD, because you never really had that kind of friends, something flashed in his eyes.

“You never played DnD?" Eddie's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as if your statement had personally offended his very existence. "Oh, what a shame! Okay, you know what?” His elbows crashed onto the table, and he leaned in so close that you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze. His soft eyes locked onto yours, filled with determination. “I, Eddie Munson, promise you, Y/N Y/L/N, that I’ll introduce you to the world of DnD one day.” With a mischievous smile playing on his lips, he dramatically raised his pinkie for a solemn pinkie promise, an act you sealed with your own pinkie.

“Alright, deal.”, you whispered, absolutely mesmerized by the guy you just met yesterday.

“Deal.” He repeated solemnly.

“Okay, you lovebirds.” Mister Baker's voice interrupted your promise, pulling your attention back to reality. The pub around you was empty and the chairs were already put back on the tables. “I’m really sorry, but my wife will kill me if I don’t close the pub soon.”

With your face blushing with shame you quickly leaned back into your seat and looked away. How embarrassing that must have been to watch. Like you were teenagers again.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a look at the clock. “Oh, shit, yeah. I should go now, my friends are surely wondering where I am. Goodnight, Y/N.” He paused for a moment to look at you one last time before he left the pub in a hurry.

The looks both Mr Baker and Mrs Baker gave you were unequivocally. But in your opinion, they were reading something into your casual conversation with Eddie. Something you didn’t seem to perceive. 

The next few days, Eddie found himself inexplicably pulled to that charming little pub, his heart fluttering with excitement every time he spotted your Y/H/C hair behind the bar through the stained glass windows. Without fail, he made his way there each evening, armed with a new and absurd excuse. Sneaking up behind you, he would unleash the most cringe-worthy pickup lines, each one more outrageous than the last. You'd heard your fair share of cheesy pickup lines over the years, but none had ever elicited the same blend of blushes and giggles that Eddie's managed to. It was as if you both had regressed to the age of twelve, sharing a playful banter that was both bad and yet undeniably funny.

As you brought his first pint of beer for the evening, you found him crouched forward in his seat, his face twisted in an exaggerated expression of pain. Concern etched on your face, and with furrowed brows you asked, “Everything's okay, Eddie?” To which he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you." This unexpectedly caught you off guard, and despite your efforts to suppress them, snickers escaped you, filling the air with shared laughter.

Another very stressful evening, when you passed him with a full tray of empty glasses, he said “Hey, Y/N, you dropped something!” 

“Huh?” You promptly came to standstill, the glasses clinking at the abrupt stop, and tried to figure out what you had dropped. But after you couldn’t find a damn thing and slowly became somewhat desperate, you noticed Eddie's lopsided smile. He seemed to be biting back his laughter as he quipped, “My jaw”, and brought that lovely smile of yours back to your lips with this poor attempt at flirting with you.

One evening, you were seated at the bar, leisurely sipping your coke, when Eddie stealthily approached from behind. Gently placing his hands around your waist, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You know, with all these secret rendezvous with you, I feel like I’m a spy or something. Hidden identities, clandestine meetings, just you and me, and no one knows about this, far away from the public.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and retorted, "Oh, please. You're not James Bond, Eddie."

He chuckled, "I may not be James Bond, but I am a famed rockstar by night.” To make sure no one heard him, he looked left and right, then turned back to you. “Shh, it's a secret!", he whispered and winked at you.

After releasing you, his warm hands leaving a lingering sensation, you sighed and turned your barstool to face him. For a fleeting moment, your gaze flickered to his slightly parted lips, now curled into a smug grin. Looking back into his eyes, you cocked your head and, absolutely unimpressed, countered, "Yeah. Nice try, buddy. You're not fooling anyone with that."

By now, your jokes about him allegedly being a rockstar didn’t seem bother him anymore. No. Instead he chimed in on your jokes, complained about clingy fangirls, unreliable sound engineers, the bad food during their tour. And you laughed at his jokes, thinking he was trying to impress you.

You could’ve sworn he must have heard your heart beating heavily in your chest when, with his hand resting on the counter behind you for support, Eddie leaned forward, nearly brushing your cheek. Just inches away from your face, the sensation of his breath on your skin caused a shudder to run through your body. If you would have tried to stand up, you suspected your legs would give way, as your body inexplicably turned to jelly in the mere proximity of him.

Eddie flashed a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, can't blame a guy for trying, can you? But it seems like it doesn’t necessarily need a secret agent or rockstar to sweep you off your feet, right?" His coarse voice, barely above a whisper, was vibrating in his chest. Chuckling, he leaned back, feigning nonchalance, though a subtle twinkle in his eye hinted at the amusement behind his teasing attempt. As his face, and lips, were outside the danger zone, you noticed that you were straining holding your breath for what felt like an eternity. 

“How was your date?” Poppy asked teasingly as you came upstairs one evening. Eddie brought you his copy of The Hobbit and some flowers he picked from some front yard that reminded him of you. The pub was very crowded that evening, so you two decided to just chill in the backyard, counting stars and eating the cookies he brought.

“That was not a date.”, you declared and rolled your eyes.

“Oh. Of course. No date. I understand. Like the other not-a-dates you two had the last couple nights, right?” Poppy winked at you knowingly. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, so you turned away and took care of the dirty dishes.

One day Eddie came to the pub earlier than usual. The pub wasn’t even open yet. Shaking from the nervousness that filled his body, he paced up and down the sidewalk in front of the pub. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was all nervous and excited like this. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, as he waited for you to come down after he rang the doorbell.

“Okay Eddie. Breath in-” He took a deep breath in, “- breath out.” His breath was shaking. And since his attempt at calming himself down didn’t quite have the effect he wished for, he took a long drag from his cigarette, inhaling the smoke that had at least a little soothing effect on his nerves.

“Eddie?” The sudden sound of your voice made him jump, causing you to smile. You stuck your head out of a window and looked down on him.

“Hey, Y/N!”, he greeted you. All of a sudden the words he already laid out in his head vanished into thin air. 

“I … Y/N would you … I mean …” Eddie closed his eyes, took another deep breath and gathered his courage. “Would you like to go out with me? Tonight?” With furrowed brows he looked up to you. His heart nearly jumped out his chest as the words left his lips.

“You mean like a date?” The smile on your face grew wider than ever before. “A rockstar is asking someone like me out for a date? Is this some cinderella kind of story?” Your nervous laughter made him hold his breath, expectantly waiting for your final answer. His body tensed up as you finally nodded, accepting his invitation.

“Sure. When and where?”

He smiled from ear to ear as he told you the time and place. 

“Alright. See you tonight!” You waved him goodbye and disappeared back into your room.

“Yeah, see you tonight.”, he whispered dreamy with his eyes fixed on your window for a little longer before he turned around and went back to his friends.

“So how’s the no-date-policy going?” Teddy leaned against your doorframe as you turned around, grinning like a highschooler that’s been asked out to prom.

“Oh shut up.”, you laughed in an attempt to hide the blush on your cheeks. 

“Hey! Poppy! Guess who has a date tonight!”, Teddy’s voice echoed through the apartment. His words had only just left his lips when Poppy was already standing in your room, seemingly faster than light and with a grin that almost looked scary.

“He asked you out?” But before you could answer, she grabbed you by your hands, pulled you into a tight embrace and swirled you around. “I never thought I could be any prouder as a mother than this.”

“Poppy, she’s not -” Teddy tried to intervene to remind her that you were not their actual daughter. But Poppy, filled with pride, interrupted him.

“Oh shut up, Teddy.”

Still giggling she released you to look you up and down. You were still in your baggy shorts and a faded shirt, that once used to be a blue and violet tie dye. The longer she looked at you, the more you got anxious. 

“So … “ she started after a moment. “And what are you going to wear?”

“What?” Her question caught you off guard. You were still busy to not freak out with joy.

“What are you going to wear tonight? Sure you can’t go on a date looking like this, sweetie.” Well, she was pretty damn right with that. In your mind you went through your little options. Because you were often switching between hostels and other places to stay the night, you chose not to carry that much clothing around with you. So most of your outfits consist of simple shirts, most of them already pretty baggy and faded, and some simple jeans. Nothing that you could wear on a date to make a good impression. Well, you honestly didn’t intend to go on dates anyway.

“Oh my god.”, now you have started to freak out. “What the hell am I going to wear?!” With furrowed brows and slightly panicking you looked at Poppy.

“Don’t worry, darling. I got you.” She gently squeezed your hand, then left your room, skipping like an excited child. 

“I guess I should leave you two girls alone.”, Teddy whispered to you, somehow happy to leave this intimate mother-daughter moment.

As long as Poppy combed through her wardrobe, you faced the mirror, trying to tame your hair to look nice and girly and not like a crazy witch. Just as you were trying to braid your hair, Poppy came back with a pile of clothes. This might be a more complicated and complex quest than you thought. 

You tried on outfit after outfit. Dresses. Skirts with lovely ruffle blouses. Your favorite so far was a dark brown culottes with a fluffy beige blouse. That was until Poppy pulled out a dress, short puffed sleeves, flowy skirt and a lovely floral pattern. You instantly put it on. The fabric was soft and light, the layered dip hem skirt flowed down from your waist like a waterfall of flowers. You never were a fan of these oldschool puffed sleeves, but you had to admit, that these were pretty flattering. Around your waist, the fabric was a bit ruffled up and tightened in your back like a corset. And the neckline was low-cut, but not too revealing.

As you eyed your reflection, admiring how the dress accentuates your favorite features and yet managed to conceal your insecurities, Poppy carefully completed the dress with a cute little necklace. 

“You look absolutely stunning!” She stood right behind you with her hands on your shoulders and examined your reflection too, looking like the proud and loving mother you never had. 

“Thanks Poppy.” was all you managed to get out at the moment. You never considered yourself good looking, not even close. Instead you always tried to hide your body and your low self esteem. But your new found family taught you in so many different ways how beautiful and stunning you actually were, on the inside as well as on the outside.

It felt like an eternity until it became evening and your long-awaited date with Eddie came closer. Watching the clock hands seemingly move in slow motion, your impatience grew with every second to infinity. Poppy helped you to braid your hair and embellished your french braids with colorful flowers from their balcony. 

Every fiber of your body was tense and it was a miracle you managed to walk to your destination. Nervously fidgeting with your ring, you found the place Eddie told you. But to your surprise, it wasn’t a restaurant or bar. It was a nightclub. Every time the door opened, rock music blared outside, then fell silent again when the door closed. 

Did he mess up the address? Or did you mess up? Anxious, you verified the address of this place over and over again, finding no mistake, until the ticket taker spoke to you, thinking you were the next in line. “What’s your name?”

Pulled out of your thoughts you looked at him. “What?”

“What is your name, so I can let you in.”, he repeated.

“Oh, Y/N Y/L/N, but I think I got the wrong address, sorry.”

Just as you were about to leave, embarrassed and downhearted, he opened the door for you and the music carried you inside.

As you hesitantly entered the club you simultaneously entered a whole different galaxy. The heavy guitar sounds and fast drums adapted to the fast and nervous beating of your heart. With a loud thud the door slammed shut behind you. 

People mostly dressed in black leather jackets or jeans vests covered in patches, pins and studs ushered you further into the club. You let yourself get carried by the wave of metalheads, standing out like a sore thumb with your cute little dress and the flowers in your hair. The masses around you came to a stop and you found yourself in front of a big stage that was covered in red light, a flag hanging on the wall behind the setup that announced a band named ‘Corroded Coffin’. 

Squinting your eyes, you tried to find the guy with the wild, brown hair, but to your disappointment you couldn’t find him. After some minutes of desperately searching for that lovely smile, the few lights that tried in vain to lighten up the whole place dimmed and everything fell silent for a moment before some slow and hauntingly beautiful guitar riffs filled the air. Your eyes needed some time to adapt to the darkness around you. The crowd started to cheer frenziedly, jumping up and down uncontrollably as the heavy beats of a drum joined the guitar. Caged in that impetuous jostling, you had to stand on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the now partially lit up stage.

And when you caught sight of that wild, dark brown mane, you froze for a second, eyes wide open in shock. “No fucking way”, you mouthed in disbelieve.

The world around you seemed to fall into slow motion as the realization hit you hard. That guy in front of you, believe it or not, was Eddie. Eddie Munson, the guy you randomly met at a pub and made fun of because he claimed to be a rockstar. He was shredding his guitar like a maniac, a burst of energy radiating from him. And just as the crowd was about to freak out with excitement, he grabbed the microphone and, with a contagious enthusiasm, hollered to the crowd, "Alright, folks! Let's make some noise that'll shake these walls! We're here for a hell of a good time, so buckle up and get ready for a wild ride!" The crowd erupted into even louder cheers as the concert kicked off with a surge of electrifying energy. 

His eyes were scanning the crowd, desperately looking for your unmistakingly beautiful face. Fortunately his eyes found you, his look a mix of triumph and satisfaction. A silent declaration that spoke volumes, as if to say ‘See, I wasn’t pulling your leg.’ Still in disbelief, you shook your head as you watched him perform with his band.

“In the shadows of the night, where the demons come alive,

Echoes of thunder, a twisted ride, where the fearless dare to strive.

As the spirits intertwine, prancing to a symphony of the dark,

In the heart of rebellion, we leave our lasting mark.” 

Even though this wasn't your type of music, the sight of your type of guy performing like he's possessed by the devil himself made the whole show surprisingly enjoyable.

“Rising from the ashes, we're forged in the fire,

restless souls and a rebel's desire,

Riding the storm, breaking the chains.

Legends are born in the heat of the fight,

In the roar of the crowd, where freedom reigns.”

For the rest of the concert, Eddie couldn't take his eyes off you. The sea of ​​leather and denim jeans around you blurred into a viscous, gray mass, completely insignificant to him. All that mattered to him at that moment was you – your smile, outshining any star in the night sky, and your eyes, radiating a warmth that could envelop him even in the darkest of clouds overshadowing his mind.

The thundering beat of your heart, on the verge of explosion with excitement, merged seamlessly with the unexpectedly peppy song. At first, it was just the drums, synced with the slow strumming of the bass, gradually increasing its pace until it abruptly fell silent, giving way to Eddie's voice as he chimed in.

You couldn't have possibly missed the smug grin on Eddie's face, the grin you began to love throughout the past days, as he let his piercing guitar riffs slice through the dense air. The drums and bass seamlessly joined in, weaving together to unveil Eddie's latest song, evidently penned about a certain girl he had met just days ago.

“In a haze of neon lights, the city's heartbeat loud,

A crowded room, lost faces in the crowd.

Then there she stood, a vision rare,

Sweet innocence like the flowers in her hair.”

After they played their last song and the stage was once again covered in darkness, the masses around you, still hyped, rushed outside. Countless thoughts mixed with a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you, leaving you riveted to the spot, unable to move. But as soon as you caught a glimpse of Eddie's wild mane while he climbed down from the stage, there was nothing that could’ve held you back. With a flock of muttered and incomprehensible excuses gushing out of your mouth, you pushed yourself through the remaining crowd towards Eddie. 

“Her laughter echoes, a sweet serenade.

Lost in the moment, nothing else compares.

Her eyes sparkle like stars in the night,

A sweet surrender, everything felt right.

Her words like poetry, a gentle breeze,

In the storm of life, she puts my mind at ease.

In the chaos of life, she's my symphony.”

“Eddie!” A security guard blocked your path, but you exerted all your strength to reach Eddie. “Please, let me through. I know Eddie; we’re friends. Please,” you pleaded, standing on your tiptoes and waving desperately for Eddie to notice you.

“Okay, you lovebirds. Don’t you think we should go somewhere more … quieter? At least with less prying spectators.”, the bassist, a tall guy with a smile sweet as honey which he desperately tried to hide, suggested.

“Nice try. I can’t let you through; the backstage area is just for the band.” The guard attempted to shoo you away, gently restraining you.

“No, you don’t understand. I…” Eddie, prompted by his drummer who pointed at you and the guard, rushed towards you, wearing the broadest smile on his lips.

“Y/N!” The sound of your name startled the guard, who turned his head, sensing trouble he needed to address. Taking advantage of the distraction, without a second thought, you leaped over the barrier.

There was no way anyone could have held you back at that moment.

Everything unfolded rapidly, yet it felt like slow motion as you enveloped him in your arms. His warm hands cupped your face, fingers entangled in your hair. His lips met yours, moving in sync to a silent rhythm set by your connected heartbeats.

“Okay, nothing to see here, guys!” His bandmates pivoted to shield the curious looks of the crowd, slightly bewildered by the unexpected sight of their lead singer's romantic interlude.

“I never thought you would actually come,” he whispered against your lips, breaking the kiss but still cradling your face with his calloused hands. His voice trembled, and you could feel his heart pounding violently against your chest.

“And I never thought you were telling the truth, but here we are,” you retorted, still breathless, earning a laugh from him—a laughter you never wanted to miss in your life again.

“Is this Eddie’s secret girlfriend?” someone screamed excitedly, pointing at you and Eddie.

“Well, does this look like a secret to you?” the drummer huffed, attempting to disperse the onlookers.

With the help of the security, his bandmates managed to give you and Eddie some private space, away from their curious fans. They already suspected something was going on since they couldn’t figure out the reason behind his late night trips or the silly smiles dancing around his lips when he returned to their tour bus. He seemed to be a completely different person after he went out one night after a little argument with their manager. And now they finally had an answer, the answer was right in front of them. 

“Yeah, I think Jeff is right,” the drummer agreed. “And don’t you think you should introduce your secret girlfriend to us?” He playfully mimicked quotation marks with his fingers, emphasizing the words with a teasing tone, the rest of the band loudly agreeing. With his arms crossed above his chest and a raised eyebrow, the curly haired drummer, who was wearing a Corroded Coffin shirt underneath a red plaid flannel, nearly squeezed himself between you and Eddie. 

Eddie took a deep breath and let go of you, silently cursing his nosy friends for interrupting this intimate moment with you. He grabbed you by your hand, squeezing it gently to, on one hand, assure you that everything is okay since he sensed your unease, but on the other hand to make sure you wouldn’t leave his side. 

“Okay, okay.” He rolled his eyes in a playful manner and added "When you finally stop pestering me" like an annoyed parent would to silence their nosy child. 

"Okay, let’s go, move, move!" the bassist, Jeff, demanded excitedly, ushering them into the backstage area with animated enthusiasm. You clung onto Eddie as the rest of the band, with combined forces, led you two further into the backstage area. 

You spent the rest of the evening with Eddie and his Band, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you snuggled against his chest. His friends welcomed you with open arms and treated you as one of them, as if you knew each other for years. 

As they settled in, the atmosphere turned light-hearted, and this group of grown up adults, famous rockstars, who had momentarily reverted to their teenage selves, cracked one bad joke after another. Eddie's friends wasted no time in sharing embarrassing stories from their shared past, tales that had long been hidden in the recesses of their memories.

Amidst the banter, they found joy in recounting youthful escapades, revealing anecdotes about Eddie that made him both blush and join in the laughter. The tour bus became a time machine, transporting them back to the days of awkward adolescence, with the added delight of sharing these moments with someone who had now become a part of their close-knit circle.

As hours slipped away, the scent of beer and cigarettes lingered in the air, and your adoration for the dorky, brown-haired guitarist only deepened with each anecdote shared by his bandmates.This became one of those core memories that etch themselves into your soul—a source of perpetual joy, belonging, and safety whenever you reflect upon it.

Even though you enjoyed the time you spent with the band, you longed for some time alone with Eddie. The earlier kiss lingered, leaving a sweet longing in its wake, the taste of him remaining on your lips. Each and every time you caught a glimpse of his lips, your heart seemed to skip a beat and a cozy warmth spread within you as the memory of his lips moving against yours flashed through your mind. And it was no different for Eddie. 

Gareth noticed the looks you shared, your nonverbal conversations, not knowing how to get away from the boys for some alone time. So he did what every best friend would do.

“Alright guys.” He clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention. “I think we should give our lovebirds some time for themselves.” As he stood up, he winked at Eddie, who, in return, mouthed a relieved ‘Thank you’. Before you and Eddie left them, everyone hugged you goodbye, like you’ve always been friends. 

You stumbled out of the bus, still laughing and grinning like a teenager. The cool air of the night let shivers wash over your body, which Eddie noticed instantly. Like the gentleman he was, he put his jacket around your shoulders and placed a kiss on the crown of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You pulled him into a tight embrace, never wanting to let him go, your fingers buried in his still sweaty shirt. But you didn’t mind. He was yours and you were his. That was all that mattered in that moment. His hands slowly wandered up and down your back, his fingers gently painting little circles on your skin. 

“I’d love to take you out on a date sometime. A real date.” With his hands cupping your face, he looked down into your eyes. His expression was soft, almost sad at the thought of leaving you soon.

You melted under his touch, a sensation you'd never experienced before. No one had ever made you feel this way, and dreaming of such a connection was something you'd never dared. Surprisingly, Eddie managed to make you forget about your self-imposed "holy oath" against dating again—a so-called no-date policy that now seemed nothing more than a ridiculous joke.

“Come on, sweetness. Let’s get you home,” he whispered after what felt like an eternity. Reluctantly, you agreed and sighed as he broke the embrace. Slowly, you walked back home, taking some detours to prolong the precious moments with him.

Beneath the cloudless night sky, with the moon casting its enchanting glow on the Thames, turning its surface into an ocean of little, shiny diamonds, you felt like you were living in a dream. The most beautiful dream you never wanted to wake up from. All the way back to the pub you talked about home, his tour, your plans for the future, and your plans for whatever that was you two had going on.

With a heavy heart, you sauntered through the small alleys, cast in the dim light of old lanterns, drawing closer to the pub where your little story began. Soon, you recognized the green and brown stained glass windows of the pub, illuminated by the fairy lights Poppy insisted on decorating them with. You knew that Poppy and Teddy would probably be worried about you since it was getting pretty late, but you still didn’t want to leave Eddie's side.

“Whenever and wherever you want,” you promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “I can’t wait to spend more time with you.” You reached up to him, your fingers combing through his soft hair, and gently kissed him again. Eddie's tensed body relaxed under your touch, and you thought you heard a soft moan leaving his chest as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly, a shrill screeching cut through the silence, abruptly interrupting your kiss. “Teddy! Teddy, they’re kissing! Oh my god!” Poppy’s excited voice echoed from the small balcony, where she must have been watching the two of you, causing you both to break out in laughter.

“I bet she won't give up until I tell her every single detail about tonight,” you whispered, placing another kiss on Eddie's rough lips.

“Please don’t give this old lady a heart attack with your lewd disclosure of our little romance,” he admonished in a playful way between kisses.

“Teddy! Hurry up! They’re kissing again! Oh, sweet, sweet young love!” her voice filled the air again.

“Jesus Christ, she’s worse than all of those pushy fangirls,” he joked, earning a laugh from you.

“Yeah, sure, Mister Rockstar.”

“What? Don’t believe me?” He looked down at you, something provocative flashing through his eyes.

“Well, maybe I would believe you if you take me to one of your shows, Mister Rockstar,” you winked back at him, a smug grin dancing on your lips before he could kiss it away.

___________

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

[oh-my-may]

I'm still alive omg!

Lots of irl things happening atm, BUT I managed to play through Penacony 2.2 (stretched over 3 days, no less)

Woah. Just ... woah. So much happening, so many characters interacting, so much lore, IT WAS GOING ON FOREVER but I loved it nonetheless. Of course they had to make the finale of Penacony long and epic.

FIRST OF ALL I KNEW IT! I TOLD Y'ALL!!! Literally in my post about 2.1 I talked about how Misha definitely has some close connection to Mikhail/the Watchmaker. I suspected him to be a child of his or something but the actual thing was close enough, I guess. My sweet boy. I love him. Mikhail being a Nameless was so cool. I'm really glad we're finally getting more lore and info about Akivili and previous Nameless, but I feel this was only the beginning.

I'm still madly in love with Sunday and Acheron. Robin is such a cutie too. I'm not gonna pull for her because I need my savings for Mr. Boothill and then Jade but I'll try and pull for her on a rerun. Sway to My Beat in Cosmos is such a banger. Caught myself constantly singing "riiise into my wooorld" (ofc much worse than the one and only lol)

On the topic of Boothill... my god. Love him. The way they can't make him swear so they just make him say??? Whatever??? Whose idea was that 💀 mother loving instead of mother fucking?? What the fork?? Wubbaboo?? I would die for this man. He looks so hot too. Again I have to say that HSR never misses with male character design. THEY'RE ALL SO PRETTY.

On the topic of pretty men... SUNDAY. My little radicalized bird man. I cackled when Sparkle called him chicken boy. She's just a hater, love her for that. Serious question... is he straight up dead now? I have only played the main quest so far so in case it'a mentioned somewhere in game don't spoil me but if it's not... tell me will I get to see him as a playable character... pls...

The whole thing with Ena the Order was so interesting to see. The fact that they made Order so similar to Harmony... AEON LORE. Love it. Resurrecting an Aeon is possible, you say? Kind of? The way they make Sunday'a motives understandable... he's just a boy

So I had the feeling that facing the boss Dominicus was a bit too easy the first time around. Wdym he has only one phase. I should have known there was more to it. Nevertheless loved to see IL and Jing Yuan cameo. They slayed (literally)

But then the eerie feeling I got when Black Swan talked to us on the Express... the way she makes us question everything that happened... GENIUS. I did kind of get flashbacks to Sumeru act II. The line between dream and reality, who is dreaming, what happens outside of the dream, the repetition of events... not critiquing or hating, but the concepts were just similar to me and I liked it :) Penacony just put a different twist to it.

The final fight was still very cool. The several toughness bars to break is really interesting, and the fact that you get a shield value the more bars you break. Also the Astral Ecpress literally crashing into Sunday??? I barely realized what I had just watched ghe first time around. Idk why, but the concept is hilarious to me. And the question remains... is Sunday dead now??? What about Robin?? Are they both dead??

Aventurine isn't dead either?? What about the present that Sparkle gave out to several people? What was it and what did it do? Is there smth I don't remember about that rn? Did I miss it? Also if Robin didn't actually die, how come we saw her body? If she just got transported to Dreamflux Reef, then there wouldn't have been a body, right? ALSO is Firefly dead too? She didn't make an appearance throughout the second part after we see her leave and she talked abput the way that the script said she would die 3 times in Penacony... I'm so eternally confused. It's part of the reason I think there's still gonna be more in the next patch... They're not gonna give us playable Firefly without at least a Story Quest for her, right? And Jade, too? She had one appearance in a throwback during the story, the Trailblazer hasn't interacted with her in person yet so the IPC probably hasn't finished their business with Penacony yet?

And since I mentioned Trailblazer... HARMONY MC??? LOOKS SO GOOD? LOVE THE MOVES?? THE HAT? The Significance of it had me 😭😭 my MC obsession ks back y'all. He looks so good. Caelus ily. The silly little dance with Clockie 😭 Can't wait to build him, I heard Harmony MC is really good.

I also briefly have to mention my girl Acheron. So they've literally just casually confirmed that she's Raiden Mai? I actually don't know what Bosenmori means or it's significance BUT RAIDEN MEI. And her whole flashback with Tiernan... I had my suspicions about his identity but the reveal was interesting, anyway. I've got the feeling this is not the last we've seen of Acheron. I never played HI3rd far enough to fully understand Raiden Mei's story, but I'm really intrigued with the whole thing. How come her and Welt exist in noth universes, how did they end up in HSR and what's their motive?

One thing I'm also still hung up on is the Annihilation Gang... no more mention of them? We don't get any real eyplanation as to why Acheron killed Duke Inferno? No little animation of the scene? I'm guessing it's gonna play a role later? The reason they talked about it is probably to tell us that Acheron was dangerous but like... idk what to think of it. No question the other members of the Gang are gonna appear later and maybe then we'll get more background? But if they don't play a large role in Penacony, why introduce them to the players prior to it in such a grand way?

Anyway, I judt have lots of questions still but no doubt the game is gonna answer them when the time is right... I had a really good time playing the quest, went through a whole lot of emotions during it, fell in love with even mlre characters... the new maps are GIGANTIC and look so cool and let me just say rhe music was so so epic too. Can't wait for the OST for this to get released.

I also wanna mention here (outside of discusaions about the story) is that having a fully leveled Acheron with pretty decent relics paired with a tank Aventurine feels like playing the game on easy mode. Nothing can penetrate a fully def stacked Aventurine, and Acheron's damage is straight up insane. Gonna take a while before I get tired of using them. They helped me clear basically all Stage V of every SU World I hadn't done yet... legends.

Now we wait for Boothill... The grip that Hunt characters have on me is unbelievable. Meta wise I know I should invest in Harmony characters... Ruan Mei or Robin but... HAVE YOU SEEN BOOTHILL? HAVE YOU???

Alright, that's it for now. Really excited to dive into exploration and events and quests of the new maps. Might post a little about it.. or maybe not. I still have to tell you about my thoughts on the Arlecchino quest and Remuria exploration, I began a post about that and never got around to finishing it.

As always, have some cool screenshots from the story!

[cherrycola27]

Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: A Debate to Remember

"Okay, Jake, I need you to remember that a vice presidential debate is just as important as a presidential debate." Ms. Wiseman, the Bradshaw-Seresin campaign manager, told him.

"I know, Wise-woman, I've got this. Don't worry." He tells her as he shoots her a thousand watt grin. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me that ridiculous nickname." She huffs.

Jake laughs before leaving the green room and finding his place. He was more than ready for this debate. He and Bradley were ahead in the poles with the election just around the corner. He rolled his shoulders back as he mentally prepared himself to wipe the floor with the competition.

A production assistant escorted him to his place. He squared his stance at the podium as the welcome music played, and the lights went up.

Jake was confident. He knew he had this in the bag. Nothing was going to throw him off his game.

Well, at least that's what he thought before she walked out. Jake's breath caught in his throat as she strolled onto the stage.

She was beautiful, with olive skin and chestnut colored hair. The black dress she was wearing was modest but fit her like a glove. Her legs were elongated by the black pumps that she wore, and when her eyes met Jake's, he swears his heart skipped a beat.

His mind went blank. How the hell was he supposed to be on his best game when the most beautiful woman in the world would be sitting ten feet in front of him.

He snapped back to reality as she grabbed the microphone and spoke.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the final vice president debate of the 2024 election. On stage tonight, we have Mr. Gregory Evans, Mr. Thomas Howard, and Mr. Jacob Seresin. My name is Jaycee Marchetti, lead political reporter for the Washington Post, and I'll be your moderator for this deabte." She spoke strongly, but not forcefully. Her voice was smooth like silk and Jake knew instantly that he was fucked.

"Gentleman, the debate will run for approximately two hours, you will be given a maximum of two minutes and thirty seconds to answer each question. If you exceed the time limit, I will buzz you before cutting off your microphone." Jaycee explained the parameters. "Shall we begin?" She asked just before grabbing the first question.

............

"Hangman! You crushed it out there!" Bradley clapped him on the back as he came backstage.

"Thanks, man. I'm glad that's over. Listen, if we're all good here, I need a drink." Jake said, and he raked his hands over his face. God, he couldn't get the image of Jaycee out of his head.

After clearing it with his security team, Jake managed to slip away to a private bar. Well, it was more like a speakeasy if he was being honest. You had to know someone to get in, the security was top notch, which made it the perfect place for the D.C. elite to slip off for a drink.

He had just walked in when he spotted a familiar brunette sitting alone at the bar.

"Excuse ma'am, is this seat taken?" Jake asked as he gestured to the stool beside her. Jaycee looked up from her glass of wine and smiled. "For you, Mr. Seresin, never."

Jake sat down next to her and ordered himself a glass of scotch. "Your oral performance at the debate was amazing, Mr. Seresin. You were do well spoken." Jaycee complemented him. "Mr. Seresin is my father, please, call me Jake." He insisted. "And I'm amazed at how well I did. Considering how distracted I was during it." Jake continued.

"And why were you distracted—Jake?" Jaycee asks as she leans closer to him. "You try standing across from the most beautiful woman in D.C. and see how focused you are." Jake replied as he took a sip of his drink. "You flatter me, Jake." Jaycee said as she gave his chest a gentle push.

"It's not flattery if it's true." Jake replied before putting one foot on the bar of Jaycee's stool and sliding her closer to him until her knees were wedge between his legs.

"I'm celebrating my victory in the debate tonight, care to take a shot with me, Ms. Marchett?" Jake ask her. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt." She replies innocently. "Whiskey?" Jake asks. "My favorite." Jaycee replies.

Soon, the shot of whiskey turns into two, followed by a beer. All the while, Jake and Jaycee are flirting with each other. By the time the last call rolls around, one question hangs on the tip of Jake's tongue. He settles both of their tabs with the bartender before placing one of his large hands on her thighs and leaning in. "If you thought I gave a good oral performance at the debate, you should let me take you back to my place so I can really show off my skills." Jaycee grabs his hand before hauling him out to find a cab.

...................

The couple crashed through the door of Jake's apartment as soon as he'd unlocked it. Barely breaking apart long enough for him to do so.

The two were in a tangle of lips and limbs.

As soon as the door shut, Jake pressed Jaycee against it, wrapping her legs around his waist as he ground against her.

She shoved off his suit jacket and quickly undid his tie before working as the buttons of his dress shirt. Jake peeled her away from the door long enough to slip out of his shoes and carry her to his bedroom.

Once there, he stripped out of his shirt and under shirt before dropping to the floor to undo the straps of her shoes.

Jaycee took the opportunity to peel her dress over her head and fling it across the room. She was grateful she'd decided to wear a cute lace set under her dress tonight.

Once her shoes were out of the way, Jake grabbed her leg and began trailing kisses from her ankle to her inner thigh before switching sides. Jaycee leaned back on her hands and watched him as Jake took in the site before him.

She looked beautiful in his bed.

"Can I?" He asked as his fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties. Jaycee nodded. Jake pulled the black lace off her before bringing them to his nose and inhaling. "You smell amazing, I bet you taste even better." He groaned before licking a stripe up her slit.

Jaycee's hips jumped off the bed. Jake growled before hooking his arms under her thighs and pulling her flush against him.

He started out harsh and fast, eating her like she was the finest meal on earth. His tongue swiped circles and figure eights around her clit before fucking into her weeping hole. Jaycee laced her fingers in his sandy blonde locks and pulled him closer to her.

She ground her core against his face, and Jake moaned in appreciation as she tugged on his locks.

He slipped two of his thick fingers inside her dripping cunt and curled them to find her gspot. Once he zeroed in on it, he stroked it over and over again, enjoying the cries of his name that left her lips each time he did so.

"Fuck, Jake! That feels so good!" Jaycce cried out as she chased her high. It had been ages since a man had taken care of her like this.

"You're squeezing my fingers so good, darlin, I can tell you're close. Be a good girl and cum for me." Jake demanded as he sped up his fingers and tongue.

Jaycee cried out his name as he assaulted her bundle of nerves. Jake alternated between sucking on in and circling it. He gave it a particularly harsh suck, and Jaycee was screaming out his name. She came hard on his face, and Jake worked her through it, only stopping when she pulled him away from over stimulation.

Jake shimmied out of his pants and underwear before joining Jaycee on his bed.

She pulled him in for a bruising kiss before pushing him on his back. She stroked his hard length a few times. "Shit, baby, that feels so good. Hold on, let me get a condom." Jake said as he fumbled with his nightstand. He quickly took out the foil and handed it to her. Jaycee carefully opened it and rolled it down his length.

She straddled him before slowly sinking down him. She let out an appreciative moan over how full she was, taking a few moments to savor that burning stretch before slowly rising up and dropping back down on him.

Jaycee quickly picked up her pace, placing her hands on Jake's torso for leverage. Jake's hands grabbed a fistful of each of her ass cheeks and brought her closer to him as he rolled his hips into her.

He gave her ass harsh smack as she rode him. "Fuck baby, you ride better than half the cowgirls in Texas." Jake drawled out. Jaycee moaned back a reply as his stiffness hit a particularly deep spot that had her seeing stars.

"If you can help run a country, half as good as you fuck, I might be convinced to vote for you." Jaycee gasped. At the omission Jake stopped her. Jaycee whined.

He flipped them over so she was under him. He grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You don't know who you're going to vote for yet?" He asks, clicking his tongue. Jaycee shakes her head.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to give you a good reason to vote for me then." He says before pistoning his hips into her.

Jaycee clings to his biceps, her nails digging in as Jake pushes her to a finish.

He drops his thumb to her clit and rapidly strokes it. The pleasure overwhelms her, and Jaycee's orgasm rips through her body. Jake follows behind her, spilling into the condom.

He collapses beside her and catches his breath before heading to the bathroom and returning with a warm washcloth to clean her up. He grabs a shirt from his drawer and hands it to her. She looks at him confused.

"I figured you'd want something to sleep in because there is no way in hell I'm kicking you out."

....................

Jaycee quietly unlocked her door and crept in. She definitely didn't want to wake her her roommate up. She was not ready for the five thousand questions she knew that she would ask.

"Good morning, skank." Y/N said as Jaycee stepped in the kitchen.

"Girl! What the fuck!?" She exclaimed while Y/N sat at their kitchen island and sipped her coffee.

"It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. What are you doing up so early?" Jaycee asks her. "It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Why are you just now getting home?" She fires back.

"How do you know I just got home?" Jaycee counters.

"Your hair is in a bun, you're wearing last night's dress, you are carrying your shoes, and you smell like cedar scented soap." Y/N states. "So, you want to tell me where you were?"

"I, um— I went home with a guy last night." Jaycee confesses.

"Why didn't you tell me? I was worried sick about you. It takes ten seconds to send a text. I was afraid something had happened! I was about to call the police!" Y/N rants. Jaycee crosses the space to hug her friend.

"I'm fine, Wise-crack. I promise, I don't need you fussing over me like a mother hen." Jaycee assures her. "You know I worry about you. After what happened— I can't talk almost losing you again." she fights back tears.

"It's been five years. Everything is okay, babe, nothing bad is going to happen. Jaycee tells her best friend.

"I know. I just can't help it. But you promised me you're okay?" Y/N asks just to be sure.

"More than okay. Now, let me get a cup of coffee and tell you all about my night. Girl, this guy had mad tricks with his tongue." Both women laugh before Jaycee recounts her escapades.

.......................

Six months later, Jaycee is in the White House. Her best friend is the Chief of Staff, and the two of them had just prevented a major scandal. Some psycho ex-employee claimed she had an affair with President Bradshaw and was pregnant by him. Y/N, being the girlboss that she was, had the woman followed and promptly destroyed any ounce of credibility that she had.

Jaycee had worked to keep the news out of the Post and had several positive articles about the president ready to go.

She and Wise-woman were currently raiding the White House kitchen for snacks and wine. They were going to have a victory sleepover and needed provisions.

Jaycee was on edge as she walked through the halls of the White House. Her one night stand from months ago was now the vice president, and she'd never told Y/N, claiming she couldn't remember his name.

She'd even gone as far as to ghost Jake Seresin after their hookup. Jaycee was sure that he'd forgotten about her and had moved on to some other socialite.

The two of them had just left the kitchen with piles of junk food when she heard a familiar voice cry out. "Wise-woman, wait up!"

Jaycee froze. Y/N turned around, while Jaycee didn't dare move. Shit, this couldn't be happening, she thought.

"Jake, before we head out, let me introduce you to my best friend. She works for the Washington Post, you might remember her from the last VP debate." Y/N says warmly.

Jaycee turns around. Jake's face lights up when he sees her. The woman who has haunted his dreams for the past six months eas standing right in front of him.

"Hello, Mr. Vice President. Jaycee Marchetti. It's nice to officially meet you." Jaycee extends her hand for him to shake. "It's lovely to see you again, Ms. Marchetti." Jake draws out as his eyes rake over her body.

"Again?" Jaycee feigns as she cocks her head to the side. "Oh, you mean how we met at the debate. Which I guess we didn't officially meet then, did we? I just asked you some questions." Jaycee laughs. "Um, yeah." Jake replies.

"Well, like I said, it's nice to officially meet you—for the first time." Jaycee reiterates. Hurt flashes across Jake's face. So, this is how it was going to be.

"Well, I'll let you ladies get back to your fun. Have a nice night." Jake says deflated.

The two women continue down the hall as Jake heads for his room.

Jaycee had pretended they'd never met before and that he didn't know her in the most intimate way. That she hadn't cried out his name over and over from his bed that night so long ago.

If he had to guess, Wise-woman didn't know that the two of them had hooked up. Jake planned to keep it that way for now. However, he wasn't going to let Jaycee Marchetti slip through his fingers again.

Babes! It's here! I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @dakotakazansky @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby

[unholy-screeching9]

Hi!! First, I want to say that I love your writing style. So much detail! I also LOVE your art!!! Absolutely amazing.

I have a request! I’d like to see King Dice x reader, their first meeting. Game and show, or whichever you prefer! I’m not picky! I’d love to see how the two first met and how or when they fell for each other 🥰

You have free creative liberty with this!!

Feel free to message me if you need any ideas!

Thank you so much, sweetheart! Your kindness means the world to me. A lot of time and effort is put into my work, so I'm very glad it brings you joy. So sorry for the long wait! As always, if these aren't up to your tastes, let me know. I'll revamp them for you.

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting"

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (GAME)

King Dice loves to work in the casino. He has to, otherwise, his life would be absolutely miserable. His deal with the Devil really left him with no other choice.

There’s nothing more satisfying to him than watching those who are stupid enough to walk inside the building lose everything they had worked for. He relishes in the tears of the foolish. 

He also basks in the attention he gets from the ladies, the gentlemen and everyone in between. No matter who has fallen in love with Dice’s looks, the man accepts it wholeheartedly. Enjoys it, even. Multiple times, he’s found himself sitting in the head chair of the Grand Hazard table, with one person on each arm, two behind him with their hands on his shoulders, and even the occasional one sitting in his lap.

There is rarely ever a dull moment in the Devil’s casino. There’s always something to keep Dice entertained, whether it’s a tussle between the drunkards, a particularly exciting derby, or even some new drink concoctions the Tipsy Troop came up with. There’s always something.

Except… those things start to bore Dice. 

Sure, they’re enough to grab the manager’s attention, but the time span that these things keep his attention has slowly been dwindling. 

As invigorating as the job is, the routine has started to become too predictable. Get up. Go to work. Fawn over the attention. Sign soul contracts. Go home. It’s like clockwork. Every single day. 

It’s not to say that Dice is getting tired of his job. Oh, no. Not even close. The man just wishes that things could be a little more exciting sometimes. The shifts are long and tiring, it’d be nice to see at least a little change, to make the day pass by faster. 

Eventually, though, Dice gets his wish. 

The day you started showing up. 

Oh, hell, you are captivating. Your confidence as you strut through the double doors, catching every eye as you mosey your way down to the bar. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor. The way you shoot a warning glare at anyone who tries to make a move on you. Good heavens, you’re a feisty one. 

Dice likes that. A lot. 

His legs sneakily carry him over to the edge of the bar, where he eavesdrops on your conversation with Ginette as she takes your order. 

You order a glass of the Old Fashioned, on the rocks. A strong, yet simple drink that hits all the right notes. 

What an excellent choice. Dice didn’t take you for someone who liked the liquors. He was expecting a classic red wine, or even a martini. 

How… unpredictable you are. Just what Dice needed, to bring back the spunk and glitz the casino had lost. 

You take your drink, and you brush past the manager, not even noticing him as you make your way past the slot machines. Past the derby area. It seems you have your heart set on something that requires more than just luck. 

You take your seat at the Poker table, sipping at your cocktail with the dealer casually sliding you a hand of cards. 

You’re after what skill can bring. You’re one of the intelligent ones. 

You certainly know the way right to King Dice’s heart. And now, he’s just GOTTA  have you.  

He watches you. Intently. From a distance, at first. He doesn’t want to scare you away from intimidation, but in all honesty, the looks you cast his way tell him that scaring you should be the least of his worries. 

Those looks also let him know that you know he has his eyes on you. You know you’ve fallen into his spotlight. But unlike the others, you aren’t pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. No… you have other things on your mind. 

Like the poker game in front of you. You’re so concentrated and determined; you know damn well what you’re doing. Dice can see it in your eyes, from his position at the bar. 

You’ve got a good poker face, but those beautiful eyes of yours are very telling. You think you’re about to win big. And goodness, when you glance up from your hand and cast him a suspicious look from your seat? 

He’s gotta get your name. He needs to know just who you are. To let you slip between his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life.  

While you’re focused on your cards, Dice slowly makes his way over to your table, momentarily looking over the other players. ‘Watching for cheating,’ so to speak. Then, he steps behind you, smirking delightedly as he gets a peek at your hand. 

Looks like you’ve got yourself a straight. Not a terrible hand, but there certainly are better hands out there. But it doesn’t look like you’re making any moves for replacement cards. And, your bet seems to be rather high. 

Dice wonders if you’ve got little faith in your fellow players, or if you’ve just never played the game before. Maybe if he offers a bit of advice, he’ll be able to make you melt, just as he had with all the others who played hard to get. 

“You sure you wanna keep these cards, dear?” The die whispers sweetly, fondly. “It looks like you’ve got a rather low hand, with a high bet.” 

To Dice’s surprise, you let out a soft chuckle, leaning over and whispering right back, “thank you for your input, sir. But I’m quite alright. It seems that you may need to look into buying some glasses, though…” 

Ohhh, ouch. What a blow to Dice’s ego. He can’t believe you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner, all for trying to give you a little tip. While he’d usually go after those who speak like that, he just loves your attitude. It drives him nuts. 

He’s gotta see where this goes. What exactly drove you to refuse his advice? What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve? 

The dealer calls for the players’ hands. You confidently set your cards down, the other players groaning softly in defeat, as the winnings are pushed towards you. Confused, Dice takes another glance at your cards, and his stomach does a somersault at the sight. 

A straight flush. All spades.

How could he have missed that?! 

Dice looks over at you, and is met with your confident eyes staring right back at him. Aw, hell, you’ve got him hooked. 

“Spades and clubs do look rather similar, don’t they?” You smirk, amusedly patting his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. It took me a little while to get used to the symbols when I first started out.” 

The manager is at a loss for words. He knows damn well the difference between a club and a spade, he’s worked these casino floors for over half his life. But how could you be so condescending, and yet… so oddly kind at the same time? And how in hell are you so good with your wit? 

He needs to introduce himself, before he loses his composure. 

“That was a very swell game indeed, my eyes must have missed the symbols… I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m—”

“Oh there’s no need for that, sir. I know exactly who you are.” You smile, calmly. Coolheaded. “The legendary King Dice of the Devil’s Casino. Anyone in the Isles who doesn’t know who you are would be a fool.” 

With his heart skipping several beats, the King quickly forms a smooth reply. 

“Well, since you seem to know so much about me, what about telling me about yourself? How about putting a personality to that pretty face of yours, doll?” 

You smirk, shaking your head and finishing off your liquor. Standing, you grab your winnings and hand him your empty glass, straightening up Dice’s bow tie for him. 

“Now, why would I talk about myself with a stranger, Dice? You of all people know the dangers of slipping out too much information.” 

“Aw, you’re hurting my heart, sugar. Not even your name? Something so simple?” 

“Hm… Alright, King of Hearts. The name’s (y/n). Don’t use it too much now, or you might just grow tired of me.” 

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Dice speechless, longing for more. Just how he had left so many others before. 

Good god. Now he understands what he’s put them through. It hurts. It hurts so damn good. There’s no way he could ever be tired of you, especially with a name like that. He needs to see you again. As much as possible.

He can’t wait for your return. And thankfully, he doesn’t need to wait for long. 

You come back again, the next day. And the day after that. And soon enough, you’ve become a regular, slipping into the mundane routine Dice had gotten so bored of. 

Except… you take away the normalcy. Every day you come by, the routine is just slightly different. 

Sure, you walk in, ignore the peepers, grab your usual cocktail and make your way to the poker table. One game. You win, every time. And then, you leave. It’s like clockwork. 

Except… the conversations you have with Dice. Those are slightly different. Every time. 

He tries to learn more about you. You shut him down, with a slight tease. You laugh as he fails to form a coherent reply. You leave, with Dice watching you. But every time you talk, you humor him just a little more. Driving him closer to what he wants.  

The more you come by, the more crazy he gets about you. He switches his tasks around on the schedules, making sure he is always available at the poker table and the bar. Just so he has an excuse to see more of you. To learn more about you.

Dammit, all you’ve given him is your name. That, along with the small details he’s picked up just from watching you, is not very much to work with. He needs more. 

He needs to take you out of this suffocating atmosphere. To bring you somewhere nice and quiet, where you can get to know each other outside of your casino affiliations. 

A date. He needs to take you on a date. 

He tries to be straight forward, at first. The next time you come by, during your usual conversation, he asks you to indulge in his fantasies, just for one night. 

“One date, darlin’. A night away from this casino’s chaos and craziness. Let me find out more about what makes those gears in your head turn.” 

“What a direct approach, King. But I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. There’s just not a reason for me to accept your offer.” 

Your voice is smooth, confident, with a hint of teasing. But there is something that Dice catches—something you had hoped he wouldn’t. Longing. 

The man is so. Damn. Close. He just needs to figure out a way to tip you over the edge.  

You take his hand, guiding it towards your empty glass so he can take it back to the bar for cleaning. 

Even with the gloves Dice is wearing, he can feel just how soft your skin is. It’s warm. Comforting. Addicting. Good gracious, you’re driving him insane. 

He watches you leave with a spring in your step, his eyes trailing down to the casino’s glossy marble flooring. After some deep thought, the man gets an idea. And for him, it’s brilliant. 

If he’s going to grab your attention for good, he needs to catch you off guard. Like a game of cat and mouse. 

You’ve always been great on your feet—you haven’t missed a step once in the time you’ve come to the casino. Dice wonders… What if you weren’t so good one night? What if something were to cause a simple slip, and who would catch you if something like that were to happen? 

Well, there’s an easy answer to each of those questions. 

When Dice orders for Wheezy and Chips to grease certain spots on the floor during cleanup, well, the two underlings know better than to question their boss. Still, it is rather peculiar how Dice only wants part of the floor to be greased. 

But there’s a method to the King’s madness. A method that only he can really understand. And you know what? That’s alright. 

The next day, before his shift, Dice sands the bottoms of his shoes. It breaks his heart a little, these shoes are expensive, but it has to be done. How is he supposed to be your knight if he slips right along with you?

To make a damn good impression, he pulls out the finest suit he has; one he saves only for special occasions. To him, this is certainly important enough. His choice of clothing, paired with the finest cologne he has is perfect for this night. Everything is in its rightful place. 

Now, all he needs is you. 

And when you arrive, it’s the most beautiful hee ever seen you. 

You’ve got such a fantastic choice in fashion, he wonders if that’s part of your line of work. The way your hair is done is just that much more striking, and that award winning smile to top it all off? 

Goodness, Dice better not mess this up. 

You immediately notice the slipperiness of the floor as you walk over to the bar, thinking nothing of it. You’ve walked in worse things before, and you haven’t tripped. Surely, you think, you can handle some tile that’s been cleaned a little extra. 

You grab your drink of choice, and carefully make your way to your favorite table, sitting in your usual spot. Your favorite dealer looks especially handsome today, you think to yourself as your eyes linger over Dice’s looming form for longer than they should. 

The man simply chuckles warmly in response, shuffling his deck with the occasional card trick thrown in before passing out the hands. 

You call, raising the open bet with that familiar confident gleam in your eye. The one that Dice had fallen in love with all those days ago. None of the other players have that confidence. 

Looks like your skill and luck take you far, yet again. 

Your royal flush steals the show, and you’ve gotta say, that’s probably your biggest win yet. You watch in satisfaction as the chips are slid towards you, finishing off your glass and setting it off to the side. 

Well, that’s the game of the night. You stand, acknowledging Dice as you trade in your heaping pile of small chips for a few large ones, for you to keep in your pocket. The man seems more assured than usual today. 

You cast him a wink before stepping away from the table, walking off with your winning chips in your pocket. Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve forgotten all about the greased floor. 

Before you know it, your foot slips from under you, and you start to fall, bracing yourself for a harsh contact with the unforgiving tile. 

That contact never comes. 

Instead, something else catches you nearly halfway. Something soft, silky, and smelling of Caron Poivre. Oh. Oh. 

That something is King Dice himself, grinning warmly down at you, his arm behind your back, and his free hand sweetly cupping your face. 

Now, it’s his turn to tease you, after all this time. It’s his turn to catch your aching heart, as you had done to him that first day you arrived. 

“Goodness, sweetheart. I know I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now, but I never figured I’d have to physically sweep you off your feet. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch after all this time, because of one measly drink…” 

For once, you’re frozen. You’ve got no retort, no comeback. Nothing to say. You just… stare. You take the time to look into his eyes, and inwardly scold yourself for avoiding them all this time. They really are a pretty sight for sore eyes. 

Those pupils of his are expanded so much you’re surprised you can still see a bit of those famous bright green irises. And they are just sparkling with want. Infatuation. 

You can’t look for long. Otherwise, you just might never be able to stop. Finally, you try to form some type of response, so he doesn’t have to stand there and hold you inches from the ground forever. 

“I… well, I just…” 

“What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” 

Dammit, he’s gotten good at this. He looks at you so expectantly, waiting for a response, but with that strikingly handsome face? You’ve lost the words you had been trying desperately to gather up. 

He’s got you, after all this time telling yourself you wouldn’t fall for his trap. He’s got you good. 

“I… t-thank you, King…” 

He chuckles warmly, sending a few butterflies right into your stomach. 

“Don’t mention it, baby. I’d never blame you for slipping on these floors—the grease is always hard to walk over. It’s caught me a few times before, even.” 

Slowly, he helps you stand on your feet once again, and you brush yourself off, not making any move to leave. Not anymore. You’ve gotten so hooked, your caution has been thrown out the window. 

“I guess I owe you a drink, for saving my life like that.” 

Dice laughs. And fuck, it’s beautiful. It’s loud, deep, and so so powerful. It takes everything in you not to lock your lips onto his right there. Fuck. 

He’s hooked you tighter than anyone else he’s ever had. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that. It’s on me, doll. But only on one condition.” 

“And what would that be, King?” 

“You let me take you out to The Ritz for dinner.”  

Damn him. Damn that no-good, rotten, sleazy casino manager, always making deals. Tempting deals that are hard to say no to. 

Aw, hell. What’s the point in life if you don’t take any risks once in a while? 

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll indulge you with that date. Now come on, an Old Fashioned seems to be calling my name over at the bar.” 

That deal turned out to be the best decision of your life. 

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (SHOW)

If there’s anything a master of ceremonies like King Dice loves most, it’s attention. Power. Influence. Money. Especially money. What else is supposed to pay for his high maintenance lifestyle? The term “money doesn’t buy happiness” is utter bullshit to the star. 

And boy, does Dice get what he wants. All the time. The spoiled Devil’s lackey NEVER hears the word no. It’s really not in his vocabulary. If the King says jump, the servants say “how high, sir?” If he says bow, his fans are on their knees. Some even kneel down before he can finish the word. 

A beautiful penthouse separated from the rest of the “common folk” of Inkwell. The top show on the radio, that plays for hours, every single day the channels run. An adoring and loyal audience, who would do absolutely anything he would ask of them. 

The finest clothes money can buy. Five star meals from only the most expensive and high end restaurants. Endless jewels and other expensive trinkets to keep the showman happy. A simple card butler at every door, and several laying out his carpet. His own limo, and driver. Staff that take care of the home duties while he relaxes. 

Really, how could you get any more fulfilled than that? 

Well, King Dice could certainly tell you how.

Everything he has is fantastic, and he wouldn’t trade any of it away, sure. That’s a given. He does love his extravagant life he’s signed a contract to. However, after so many days, weeks, months, years of doing the same damn thing, over and over again, things start to get pretty old. Pretty fast. 

And sure, the parties, acting/musical gigs, and other various events of celebrities do bring about the variety to spice up the day, but even so, something is still missing. 

Of course, being the fantastic actor Dice is, he’s learned to hide his boredom when on the air, or in front of an audience in general. He’s learned to lie, very easily. Though, that may just be part of his nature. Dice has always been a good liar. 

But god, he needs some change to his luxurious yet excruciatingly boring life. Something to keep his attention.

Thankfully, his prayers start to get answered.

Dice’s audience switches up in terms of people and their seating arrangement, every night. The variety helps bring some newness to his beloved show, when things start to get a little too dry and repetitive. 

However… Recently, there’s been one person who’s started showing up to the show every night. In the same exact seat, without fail. Always the first one to arrive, and the last to leave. 

You. 

But although you are there the longest, loyally sitting in your seat with all the others, you aren’t as overly enthusiastic as the rest of his fans. 

No… it’s like you’re watching a movie by yourself. You sit, silently, with a small smile on your face. It’s oddly comforting to the star, seeing you watching him intently. Not making a damn scene, like the other folks who just can’t get enough of him. 

You’re there for the after-show, when Dice is surrounded by his overly excited fans, BEGGING him for autographs and pictures from the press. But you don’t smother him. You simply watch behind the crowd, with that damn smile on your face. 

You’re the final one there, but before he can offer an autograph or even just a chat, you’re walking off. It confuses him. You confuse him so much. 

Why on earth would you stay so long and then just leave, without saying anything? Are you shy? No, you don’t seem like the shy type. Your smile isn’t from being flustered. You smile warmly. Boldly. Like you simply stick around to watch Dice for entertainment, and nothing more. 

The man watches you leave, staying in place until you turn a corner, disappearing into the night. He stands, contemplates for a few moments, before heading inside his waiting limo, his mind still trying to wrap around you. To understand you. 

Night after night. Every single show. You’ve become part of Dice’s daily customs, except he never gets bored. In fact, the more you show up, the more interested he gets. 

The outfits you wear get prettier and prettier to him. That smile of yours starts to make him blush, right there on that stage. You start causing him to fumble a little, each time you catch his glance. Good lord, what are you doing to him?

No, there’s no question. Dice knows exactly what he’s feeling, but he’s too conflicted to admit his feelings. Dammit, he’s in love. 

He’s in love with someone he hasn’t even properly met. 

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair, how you know so much about him, and yet, he knows absolutely nothing about you. And you don’t even give him the chance to learn. You leave before he can say anything. 

After a while, Dice can’t help but follow from a distance. Nothing too crazy, he’s no creep, but he just wants to see just where you end up every evening. The route you turn on doesn’t typically lead to any residences, so you’re not going home. 

Dice discovers that you head to the nearby bar every night. The building is just a few doors down from the studio, really not a far walk at all. It’s where he finds you every night as he rides by slowly. He’s caught bits and pieces of you sitting at a stool by the counter, sipping away at whatever drink you fancy. 

That’s the one thing he’s got on you. You like having a drink after his shows. Nothing super telling, but interesting nonetheless. 

And with interest comes determination. Dice needs to find out more about you. He needs to hear your voice. Get your name. Anything. 

You’re like a parasite that Dice welcomes with open arms. You latch onto his brain, taking complete control over his thoughts. The game show host is more distracted during his performances, only showing emphasis and charisma because he knows you’re there. In fact, he’s more passionate about what he does, as long as it keeps your attention. 

Every laugh he coaxes out of you when he says something witty and funny. Every clap you give him after he finishes with his introduction and his signature exit. Every lingering stare, where you both lock eyes with each other. You’ve got beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and energy. He could get lost in them, if he didn’t have a show to run. 

All of these things drive him to do his job well. As long as he keeps you of all people happy and entertained, well, that’s now enough for him. All he needs now, is who exactly you are.

Another signing session after his show. He runs through each paper quickly, honestly just trying to get everyone out of his hair fast enough to keep you still. His eyes search for you the entire time, barely even paying attention to his audience. He doesn’t care about them. 

Just you. 

They finally start to dissipate, and Dice finally catches your eyes again. Just as you’re starting to leave. Before you can get too far, this time, a gloved hand grabs your wrist. 

“Wait-!” 

You pause, your head turning back to the host who’s staring at you with unusual kindness, it almost breaks you. Almost. 

“I… sweetheart, you’ve always been the last to leave, but you’ve never even said a word. You haven’t asked for a single autograph or photo. So tell me, why? Come now, just tell me a little about yourself.” 

The look he gives you is so entrancing, you’re so close to caving in. You can tell he’s trying so hard, you’ve seen it since the beginning. As soon as he saw you. 

But of course, you’re not stupid. King Dice is a showman at heart, and there’s nothing he loves more than his career. Some random, quiet fan wouldn’t change that at all. 

“Sorry, sir, but I know your type. It’d be dangerous to say too much, and I don’t want to take any chances.” 

You smile, taking his hand tenderly, and giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it from your wrist. 

“But I will say, you’ve got quite the gig going on here. You’ve caught my interest, that’s for sure.” 

And with that, you walk away, just as you have every night. Leaving the star to watch you disappear, wishing he had more. Leaving him with more questions than answers. Leaving him to his thoughts, which are riddled with your face. Your eyes. Your voice. 

It was the first time Dice had heard you speak, and god, the sound is heavenly to him. It’s a shame you left so soon, before he even got the chance to hear more from you. 

To the limo he walks, allowing his driver to take him home. He’s glued to the window, his eyes scanning the bar for your presence as the limo slowly makes its way through the busy streets. And there you are, in your usual seat, swirling a glass of your favorite drink. The view only lasts a few seconds, but those moments are precious. 

What he wouldn’t give to be beside you, sharing a bottle of rosé wine, lamenting to you about just how hard it is to keep up a professional appearance all the time. How he sometimes feels jealous of you, someone normal, someone who never has to pretend. 

Laughing with you. Joking around, and sharing stories from all of Dice’s career adventures. Hearing stories from you, about how you spend your time outside of coming to the show. Slowly scooting closer to one another, glasses in hand, your drinks clinging together in a toast. A toast to normalcy and good fortune. 

A toast to love. 

Hell, if you’d let him, maybe he’d even kiss you. How beautiful would that be, to taste the alcohol on your lips? To share a beloved connection with someone who seems to care about him? 

Dammit, Dice’s feelings have reached a crazy degree. He can’t deny it to himself anymore, he needs you. You’re the piece that he’s been missing in his life. Maybe, with you, he’d finally have that sense of wholeness again. 

The entire drive home, Dice thinks. Thinks of how to sweep you off your feet. How to get you to return his affection. What he can do to make his dreams come to reality. 

A solution is a lot harder than he thought it would be. For the first time in a while, Dice is stumped. 

You never leave his head, even when he falls asleep that night. You haunt his dreams. 

The routine is the same, the next time you show up to his performance. You watch him host with a warm smile on your face. He meets you out front, after the rest of his fans have been taken care of. You move to leave, and he grabs your hand yet again, striking up another conversation. 

“C’mon, doll, don’t leave me hanging like this. I don’t know how much more I can take. You know so much about me already, but what about you? Give me something to work with, here.” 

You laugh softly at his insistence, and Dice isn’t sure he’s heard a more beautiful sound in his life. You’re more intoxicating than even the strongest whiskey he stores in his mini bar.

You take his hand like you had before, but this time, your touch lingers ever so slightly. 

“I’m not sure what a brilliant showman like yourself is doing, trying to learn about someone like me. I’m really not all that special, sir.

Dice shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand, savoring the softness of your skin. The electrifying warmth you send through his hand, up his arm, right into his heart. 

“There’s gotta be more to yourself than you’re letting on, I see it in your eyes. Humor me a little, here. At least put a name to that beautiful face of yours.” 

You smile softly, turning towards him completely. Cocking your head to your side, you look at him in amused confusion, letting him continue holding your hand. 

“It seems like you’ve got your heart caught up in a tussle, King Dice. Alright, I’ll give you my name, if you can answer this for me: why me, out of all these people? You’ve got fans who would bend over backwards to make you their groom, why have your heart out for the quiet observer?” 

“I…you just interest me, is all. You’re different. Much different. You have that aura of mystery surrounding you, and I want to break it away. Now please, darling, your name?” 

You smirk at his answer, kindly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before letting go of his hand, turning away once again. 

“You’re getting closer, sir. But you’re not quite there yet.” 

With a soft laugh, you walk away. Again. Dammit, you’re making this so difficult, the suspense is driving Dice mad. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to his limo as usual, climbing inside. He stares at the hand you had held, intently, wondering just how he’s supposed to get you to crack. 

The slow approach just isn’t working. Dice needs to be bolder. He needs to catch you when you least expect it… 

He’s never accompanied you to the bar before. He’s always just watched you go, debating on whether or not he should. Well, now, he’s made up his mind. 

This has to work. 

That night was the last show of the week, giving Dice a day off in between. Normally, he finds joy in his time away from everyone else, using up his chance to have some alone time. But now? All it does is fuel his impatience. That day is the longest he’s ever had, with half of it consisting of clock-watching alone. 

Finally, Monday comes. Dice is back in business. And today, he’s going to pull off a trick that will surely catch you. It has to. The showman is on his last leg. 

His staff have never seen him practice so hard during rehearsal. Dice runs through the motions over and over again, even when he’s got the routine nailed down perfectly. 

Makeup is the same way. Applying the eyeshadow and mascara. Removing it when it appears to be too cakey. Applying again, lighter this time, with a little blush for good measure. Better, but barely noticeable. Adding another layer of the purple shadow, along with fresh pigment over his pips. 

With his makeup perfect, his performance perfectly memorized, and his suit straightened, Dice has one of the best show nights he’s had in a long time. His audience notices. His band notices. He’s sure even his boss notices, way down in hell. 

You notice. And that’s what he cares about. He sees it in your eyes. That beautiful glimmer that keeps him motivated. 

And the performance isn’t even Dice’s main trick. This is going perfectly. 

Granted, due to the fantastic night, Dice was kept back just a little longer than he’d like, greeting, signing, and smiling for photos. His cheeks are throbbing by the time he takes care of the last person. 

But this time, you wait. When you would usually be gone by this time, you decided to stay just a little longer. And Dice almost forgets his mission out of surprise. 

“You did great tonight, King.” You smile warmly, grasping his hand in yours. 

You both stand there for a little while, smiling warmly at each other, just silently enjoying the company. And then, like all the other nights, you let him go, and you leave. 

And this time, Dice is okay with that. 

Stepping into the limo, he directs his driver towards a parking spot at your favorite bar’s side door, where he won’t be noticed by the public. The last thing he wants is for the press to butt in on this moment. He needs peace for once. 

Quiet and humble, Dice walks inside the bar, immediately looking at where you usually sit. A lonely stool, in front of the bar counter. Surrounded by empty seats. Perfect. 

You swirl your glass of scotch in your hand, eyeing the drink as you contemplate to yourself. You wonder if you should let go of your danger sense, and take the risk. 

Should you give him your name the next time you see him? Should you let him show you a different side to his charismatic persona? A side that only you would ever get to see? 

“Scotch, hm? An interesting drink of choice, but I think it fits you. You’ve got the strong boldness that comes in the drink.” 

Looks like you’ve got a choice to make. 

You look over to the side, smiling fondly when you see the very same showman you had just walked away from, sitting beside you as the bartender whips up his drink. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I never took you for someone who goes to the bar, King Dice… you seem more of the type to have the servants make your drinks.” 

The man laughs as his martini glass is slid his way, picking it up and carefully swirling its contents. You really do have such a way with words.

“Don’t be fooled, that’s usually how I take my alcohol. But the bar does offer something that I don’t have at home.” 

The man looks back up at you, slowly leaning forward, wanting to get lost in your shining eyes. 

“It gets pretty lonely without someone to share the alcohol with, doll. But here? Well…” 

You ignore the heated feeling in your cheeks, taking a drink from your whiskey, watching him closely. 

“Well what, sir?” 

“Why not try a drink in a place where there’s a little company? Some good-looking company, to boot. You seem to like it here very much—I see you sitting here with a drink in your hand every time my limo passes by the bar.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, as you take another sip of your drink. Alright, he’s got your heart’s attention and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more than a little nudge from him, and your shell would be broken. 

“I don’t know if it’s very safe for me to share a drink with a complete stranger, handsome as he may be.” 

Dice smiles, his hand reaching forward and tilting your chin upwards, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. He also gives you a chance to examine his facial features up close, and boy, he’s even better looking than your view from your seat in his audience. 

“Well then, let’s stop being strangers, shall we? I know I ask you this every night, but this is the last time I’ll try. What’s your name, gorgeous?” 

You chuckle softly to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you tip back, finishing off the last of your scotch, letting an ice cube fall into your mouth. You let it melt on your tongue slightly, swirling it around in your mouth as you contemplate your answer. He has been waiting very patiently for—! 

Every thought in your mind comes to a halt as a soft, sweet pair of lips takes over your own, an arm wrapping around your side to bring you closer. You blink in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the one responsible for the sudden gesture. 

It’s King Dice. And he’s kissing you. 

Slowly, you set down your empty glass, cautiously leaning forward, accepting the affection. You know he had been working hard to earn your love, but if you’re honest with yourself, he has already had it since the beginning. It just took him a while to unlock it. 

His tongue slides into your mouth, finding the ice cube you had been sucking on, and swiping it from you so quickly you barely even notice it’s missing by the time he pulls away. 

He smirks down at you, the ice resting against his cheek as he laughs quietly at your speechlessness. 

“Your name, doll. What is it?” 

Completely enraptured, you finally utter out the word that Dice had been dying to hear ever since your first conversation with one another. 

“(Y/n)… my name is (y/n).” 

With a victorious grin and a raise of his glass, Dice happily responds to your lovestruck mumble. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). It seems now that we are no longer strangers.” 

He taps his fingers on the counter, and the bartender slides you a brand new drink, filled to the brim.

“So, how about that drink, then?” 

You take it slowly, raising it up so it’s just underneath your slightly sore lips. You smile once again, laughing in disbelief, feeling your heart skip a beat. 

“Whatever you say, showman.” 

And from there, it’s history.