#like i get he's no longer a driver but jesus fucking christ

[schumigrace]

not them cutting Nyck out of this even though his name is on the board

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[wintrwinchestr]

bite the hand

the killer & the sound - chapter 3

summary: you hadn't expected joel to put such an abrupt end to... whatever it is you two had. or, what you thought you had, anyway. you write and perform a new song on the second night of the tour about it, and the consequences aren't quite what you expected them to be. how could something that seemed so simple at first have become so complicated?

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, no use of y/n, rockstar!joel, aspiring rockstar!reader, d/s dynamics, pretty major daddy kink, age gap (reader is early-mid 20’s, joel is early-mid 50’s), pet names (sweetheart, darlin', baby, babygirl, songbird(!!), etc), big time angst, daddy/mommy issues, religious shame, degradation (joel calls you a whore), spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, manhandling, one (1) kiss, spitting, smoking (reader & other characters), drinking (reader & other characters), getting walked in on, characters who need therapy sooooo badly, lots of internal monologue, let me know if i missed any!!

word count: 13.2k

a/n: as always, thank you so much for your patience and sticking around to see what i put our pookies through this time. these chapters just keep getting longer and longer but it's not my fault they have a lot to say!!!!! if you'd like an idea of what reader's lil diss track sounds like, i very much imagined gibson girl by ethel cain when i wrote it. thank you as always to my best babygirl kiers i love u to death. i hope you like this one, nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed!!

series masterlist

read this chapter on ao3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Jesus Christ, what the hell is he doing?

Joel has been in the shower for at least thirty minutes now, and he’s spent more than half of that time just letting the scalding water pound against his back as his vision goes blurry from the steam. He finished his “rinse off” within five minutes of stepping inside the bathroom, and now he’s just stalling, wondering how the fuck he’s supposed to go back out there and get in bed with you.

If it weren’t for the decades’ worth of tattoos that he can see when he looks down at his bare body, he wouldn’t be able to recognize himself right now. He’s always been one to hit it and quit it, love ‘em and leave ‘em, or whatever little figure of speech you want to use for just being a fucking playboy. Since when has he ever cleaned a girl up, given her his clothes to wear, let her sleep over after he fucks her? Though, he has to give himself some credit, it’s not like he was planning on letting you stay. He was just trying to preserve some of your dignity, but then, when did he even decide to start caring about shit like that? 

Fuck.

When the tour bus jerks to life as the driver begins the trip to the next city, the loss of balance is enough to finally snap Joel out of the uncharacteristic morality spiral he’s now found himself in. He rubs his hands across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing under his breath, knowing that he can’t hide in here and avoid you forever. Besides, he’s getting old, and he has to sleep at some point if he wants to be at least a little functional tomorrow. And what is he so fucking scared of, anyway? 

Joel turns off the water, and the knob screeches in protest as the dull roar of the shower fades into silence. He steps out of the stall and hardly makes any effort to dry himself off, solely focused on getting out of there before the fog evaporates from the mirror and he’s forced to confront his own reflection. He shakes out his hair and pulls on a clean pair of briefs, then sends out a silent prayer to whoever the fuck might be listening, begging for help in making it through the night without having to address whatever it is that’s gnawing at his conscience. He didn’t even think he had one of those anymore.

Joel enters the bedroom quietly, hoping that you’d be exhausted enough to have fallen asleep by the time he returned. When you don’t even twitch as he shuts the door behind him and climbs under the covers, he lets out the breath he’d been holding, and lays himself down as close to the edge of the mattress as he can without falling off the damn thing. If he can put as much distance between the two of you as possible tonight, maybe he can make it out the other side unscathed.

Just when he thinks he’s in the clear, having settled himself down with his back to you and situated his silk sheets and pillows to his liking, he feels you roll over in your sleep as you let out some dreamy little whine. Joel likes to keep it cold on the bus, and your shivering form must feel the heat still radiating off of him from his shower, because then you’re wrapping your little arms around his bicep and pulling him close. He wants to shake you loose, to put some extra pillows in between your bodies just for good measure, but he can’t be so cruel. Not when you look like such a goddamn angel, sleeping so peacefully with your hair spread out around you like a halo, long lashes fluttering against your cheeks. He wonders what you’re dreaming about. 

Joel isn’t sure when exactly it happened, but somewhere in between that very first rehearsal and right now, the lines started to blur between a fun little fling he wasn’t going to think twice about letting go of once the tour ended, and something that he wants to sink his claws into and claim as his own. He has to face it now, whether he wants to or not—he can’t get himself to push you away, to growl at you not to touch him and to stay on your own side of the bed, because he doesn’t want to. What he wants is to tattoo his fucking name right underneath that shitty moth on your upper thigh, and therein lies the problem.

He has a history of breaking things, of being too controlling and rough and mean when he plays with his toys, until they fight back and tear themselves apart as they escape his clutches. But you seem like something that can’t be broken, that would glue itself back together just to get played with again the next day, and that sets off some alarms he didn’t know he was capable of hearing. Maybe he does still have a conscience, after all.

At first, Joel had liked how eager and willing and naive you were, how easily he could push and pull you this way and that because you didn’t seem to realize what this was. Or at least, what it was intended to be. Whether you were smart to his intentions or not was never really his concern before, but now… You’re nuzzling your face into his arm, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe you as it coats your senses, and it’s awakening something protective, possessive, in him. Joel has never been good at romance or love or relationships, and he had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that he’d never be able to settle down. The life he lives can’t sustain something steady or healthy like that anyway, what with the touring and the groupies and the sex and the alcohol. 

But now here you are, this fragile and yet unbreakable thing in his bed who he worries wouldn’t run away no matter how much he growled and bared his teeth. And god dammit, that scares him. Joel had thought he was done being scared, that he had left that feeling behind before you were even born, probably. And yet, here it is creeping up on him again, grabbing him by the throat and suffocating him. You’ve got real talent and beauty, with a promising future and blossoming career ahead of you, and you’d probably give it all up and follow him into the darkness if he promised to call you a good girl once you did.

Joel has never been a very good man, but something about you makes him really have to stare down the barrel of it now. He can’t do this to you, he can’t let you in, and he knows that. He’d poison you, if he hasn’t already. And he can’t give to you what you seem to think this is, what it could be, if he wasn’t so fucking damaged. So he decides it then, as he doesn’t stop his hand from brushing a stray strand of your halo out of your delicate face, that he has to put a stop to this first thing in the morning. And he has to be cold and concise about it, so that you’re perfectly clear on what the two of you are going to be from now on, even if it hurts you. You’re a big girl, and he trusts that you’ll get over it somehow, because letting this continue would hurt you a hell of a lot worse, in the end.

And you seemed to have taken it well, all things considered. He didn’t tell you the whole truth, the real reason why he decided to yank the arrow out of your heart when he was the one who shot it in there in the first place. Because then you’d know that he’s a broken man who also breaks things, and he can only shatter so many of your illusions about him in one morning. He knows this is his fault, and he was at least man enough to take the blame, he can give himself that. He had decided to paint himself as an actually respectable person who knows when he’s taken something too far, who definitely does have a conscience. Maybe you’re the one who lured it out of the dark cave it was hiding in, but he still can’t risk anything, on the off chance that he still is the same mangled man he always was and the one he will continue to be. So he lies to you, just a little bit, because what you don’t know won’t hurt you, and he can’t let you come any closer for fear of causing even more pain than he already has. 

Joel watched as your bare legs carried you out of the living area and off of his bus, the tops of your thighs just barely concealed by his shirt he had lent you the night before. He didn’t react when you slammed the door on your way out, he had expected you to do as much. But he did half-expect you to turn around and spit a fuck you, Joel at him the way he would have deserved. It might have hurt less if you did, that way you would have left a sour taste in his mouth to replace the still-lingering flavor of your pussy mixed with the cum he had spilled inside you last night. 

God, he is so fucked.

—

You had made sure to thank the audio technicians before you disappeared from the venue after your sound check, but otherwise avoided looking at or speaking to anyone on your way out. Especially him. You had held Angel close as you swiftly made your way back to your bus before Death’s Head had a chance to take the stage for their turn, not wanting to hear any more of Joel’s voice than you’ve had to today. Besides, it’s already been looping like a skipping record in your mind since this morning, refusing to let up no matter how hard you try to drown it out. 

Mistake, respect, and professional are the choice words that are chanting themselves over and over again, so many times that they almost don’t sound real anymore, just a random sequence of letters and noises that you can’t make sense of. What happened last night didn’t feel like a mistake to you, especially not when he was so gentle in cleaning you up afterwards, when he brought you a glass of water, when he let you curl up against him in his bed, wearing his clothes. He sure as hell had plenty of time to decide that you were worthy of respect before he had you act like a whore on stage in front of tens of thousands of people for his own sick pleasure. (And apparently yours, but that’s not the point.) And now you’re supposed to believe that he suddenly had a change of heart overnight, that splitting you open on his cock and using your body to get what he wanted made him finally develop a moral compass and decide that he wants to start acting like a professional? Damn, maybe you are more powerful than you thought. 

You just can’t believe you were stupid enough to let yourself feel something for him. He was just playing you like his guitar this entire fucking time, a pretty instrument that he can pluck and strum and draw pretty noises from, then put away without a second thought. He’s a celebrity, a rockstar, for fuck’s sake. Half of his songs are about sex, and if the rumors are true, he recorded the original intro to Kiss it Better while he was hooking up with some groupie in a bathroom. Just like you, he had probably used her to get what he wanted, then dropped her like it was nothing. Of course he never fucking cared about you. 

You should burn the clothes that he sent you scurrying back to your bus wearing this morning. They’re currently shoved into the bottom of your plain-looking laundry bag in the corner of your room, though you’re half tempted to just toss the whole thing into the dumpster behind the venue and set it ablaze. But you know he doesn’t care about material things as much as he does his ego, and it’s going to be much more satisfying to set that on fire than some worn-out pieces of clothing, anyway. Destroying them also wouldn’t do anything about the way you keep catching an inhale of his cologne every once in a while, the masculine smell of it wafting from his t-shirt and carving out an undesired space for itself in your brain. You try to ignore the way your cunt flutters against your will at the scent, at the memories it conjures, and hope that she doesn’t develop a habit of betraying you like this when it comes to him. She almost gets the better of you, tempting you to second guess your plan to perform your scathing new song at the end of your set tonight.

Almost.

You’re feeling good about what you wrote, and you’d be even more upset with yourself if you backed out now, if you gave in to Joel once again, without him even knowing it this time. He seems to think that he knows you better than you know yourself, that he can make decisions for you and that he always knows just what to say to get you to do as he asks. For once, you want him to be fucking wrong about you.

The show starts in just under an hour, and you’re dedicating your last bit of quiet solitude to solidifying the new words and the motions of your fingers in your memory. While you were scribbling in your notepad earlier today, you had tried to ride the fine line between calling him out so blatantly and using descriptions that were too clichéd, and you’re happy with the in-between that you landed on. The song could be about anyone, but it isn’t, and if the shoe fits when he tries it on, oh fucking well. Plenty of men wear the same size, and if he wants to make yet another thing about himself, that’s not your problem.

Ideally, you had wanted to include the song in your sound check so that your band would be prepared for tonight, until you had let your eyes drift to the side of the stage and saw Joel observing in the darkness, just like he had done while you were performing the night before. You suppose it wouldn’t be very professional of him to avoid you like the plague the way you’re trying to do with him, but still. You had averted your eyes as quickly as you had spotted him, and decided that the song was just going to have to be a surprise for everyone, not just Joel. Your band members are smart enough guys, you’re sure they’ll be able to catch on and back you up when it’s time to unveil what you had been working on all day. But if they don’t, you’re prepared for it to just be you and Angel up there, the same way it has been for as long as you’ve been making music. Until recently, at least.

You’ve opted to get yourself dressed and ready in the safety of your bus, attempting to avoid a repeat of last night’s pre-show interactions with Joel by minimizing the amount of time you actually have to spend inside the venue. You doubt he’ll try anything, but considering how unafraid he was to volunteer himself as a witness to your sound check, you’d rather not risk it. So, you do your best to keep your distance as you make your way off the bus and to the side of the stage with Angel in tow, hoping that your viscous aura alone will be enough to keep him away. 

Your band members are already waiting for you in the wings when you get there, and you tuck yourself safely behind the group of them as you wait for the lights to go down. You ghost your fingers along Angel’s strings one last time, just to make sure that your muscle memory is securely locked into place—it is, because you’re fucking good at this. You don’t need Joel’s whispered praises and soothing touches to know that you’re a star, and you don’t want them. You don’t. You fucking killed it last night, and you knew it before he told you so, because your ears were still ringing long after the audience had finished applauding and screaming for you. For your own performance, not for the on-stage degradation you endured because of a dumb teenage crush you couldn’t seem to shake off.

If your timing is right, you should’ve gone on a few minutes ago now. Each passing minute has you gnawing at your bottom lip and picking at your nails with increasing intensity as you and the audience both become more restless. You aren’t sure what the hold up is, but you just want to get out there and safely away from the possibility of Joel before you make one of your goddamn fingers bleed. You’re so consumed in your destructive self-soothing that you don’t hear the sound of jingling chains and creaking leather approaching you where you stand, followed by a clearing throat and the last voice you want to fucking hear right now.

“Tommy told me they’re jus’ tryin’ to fix a light or somethin’. Shouldn’t be too much longer now,” Joel says, and you stiffen as he speaks. He sounds earnest in the way he addresses the group of you, but the feeling of his gaze lingering on your skin tells you his true intentions.

Your bandmates hum in acknowledgement as they maintain their casual demeanors, while you shift your jaw and remain steadfast in your stoicism. Your face is calm and concentrated, but your fidgeting hands tell a different story, and the telltale habit is most of what prompted Joel to come over here against his better judgment. He so badly wants to take your hands in his so that you’ll stop tearing at your skin, to massage the worry right out of your palms and tell you there’s nothing to be nervous about, just like he did last night. Though, you’d probably bite his goddamn fingers clean off if he even so much as reached out a hand in your direction, and he wouldn’t entirely blame you if you did, considering that he’s more than likely the reason for your agitation.

Instead, he settles for asking, in as neutral of a tone as possible, “You okay, darlin’?”

Your gaze remains focused on the stage, on the mic you should be standing behind right now, if it weren’t for some stupid fucking light. After a pointed beat, you answer him with a short, “I’m fine.”

You can see in your peripheral vision that Joel nods and shifts his weight, moving a little further behind your band and closer to you. He lets a matching bit of silence pass, for some reason not using the opportunity to just turn around and walk away, before speaking again. “Quit messin’ with your fingers.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snap, whipping your head to finally face him. You peer up at Joel from under your eyebrows, putting on a stony face and doing your best to look intimidating even as he towers over you. Despite your efforts, your heart still flutters for just a second when your eyes meet, before he drops his own gaze to the floor and takes a step back from you.

“That how this is gonna be?” Joel asks, and you could swear he sounds a little defeated.

“Yeah, it is.”

You turn yourself back to the stage again, and he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself and suppress a reaction to your attitude that he might regret.

“Look, can we–” he starts, but a sudden burst of screams and hollers cuts him off as the venue lights finally dim. You push past your bandmates and stomp your way towards the stage, feeling volatile and as determined as you’ve ever fucking been to give a killer performance tonight. You could’ve spit some real fire at him, told him to leave you the fuck alone like you had been so tempted to, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You don’t even need to check to know that he’s still standing exactly where you left him, and that he’ll probably stay there and watch you the whole time because he doesn’t know what the fuck he wants, apparently. Maybe you should bring him onstage for his public humiliation the same way he did to you, see how he likes it. But you have a little more humanity than he does, and if it all works out, he’ll have to watch you tear him down surrounded by his own bandmates and brother, and that’s gratifying enough for you.

When you and your band have all taken your places, you introduce yourself to tonight’s crowd with a newfound vigor, and begin your set with a chord so resonant it vibrates your bones. The sound surrounds you, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking loose the wallflower version of you who performed these same songs just last night. It feels like a metamorphosis, like the moths that adorn the strap slung around your body and the one etched into your skin finally belong to you instead of him.

—

You sail through your set, never stumbling over a chord or missing a lyric, even in your anticipation to reach the end. While you thank the crowd and wait for their roaring cheers to die down, you finally chance a look at the side of the stage. Just as you had predicted before you went on, Joel’s silver-tipped boots are still planted in the same place they were thirty minutes ago. Perfect.

“Y’all have been amazing tonight, this was so much fun,” you pant into the mic. “I, uh… I actually have one more song before I go, if that’s alright. Just wrote it this morning.”

Another wave of whistles and applause engulfs you as you turn to check on your bandmates, who all wear confused expressions as expected. You step back from the mic to tell each of the guys the key and tempo of what you wrote, and ask if they can maintain something steady and follow along while you carry the melody. When they’ve all gotten the plan, they look at each other and wordlessly communicate a final decision, seeming to be up to the challenge. 

You resume your place at the front of the stage, taking one last look at your victim before beginning to strum the song’s now-familiar echoing intro. The tone is a little Western, and you wrote it that way on purpose, just as an extra hidden jab toward the obnoxious midnight cowboy persona Joel had first lured you in with. Your haunting voice comes in a few measures later, singing lyrics that are unlike anything you’ve written before. They’re darker, more graphic, and they tell the story of a girl and a cold-blooded man covered in leather and tattoos, who got her alone one night and ripped her clothes off and whispered things he didn’t mean while he fucked her. And after everything was said and done, the girl had lied to herself, replaying everything that had happened between her and the cold-blooded man that night, convincing herself that because it felt good, because he was good to her, that it had meant something. She had bared her body and soul to him, only to find out that he had also been lying to her that night, playing with her like a doll who didn’t know any better, who was just happy to get looked at and touched and praised by someone she had once held on such a high pedestal. You let the lights embrace you and warm your skin as you bare yourself once again, trusting this time that it won’t end in shame or hurt or tears. 

When the buildup of your lyrics and chords finally culminate in the song’s cathartic crash, the first thing you feel is relief, like a crushing weight has been lifted off your heart. The crowd’s enthusiastic response to your creation surrounds you, filling your ears and infiltrating your soul, and you can’t help but laugh at the overwhelming feeling. You gesture behind you for your band to meet you at the front of the stage, and you all bow together to another round of raucous cheering before making your way offstage. This time, you do remember to leave Angel behind, satisfied in what the two of you accomplished tonight.

You’re still reveling in the rush of your performance by the time you’re shrouded in the backstage darkness once again, so caught up in the feeling that you nearly forget what your moment of spontaneity was for in the first place. Or rather, who it was for. You didn’t have enough wherewithal to check if Joel would still be lying in wait once you exited the stage, mostly assuming that his ego would get the best of him and he’d just huff his way out to the buses for a smoke once he realized what you were doing.

You assumed wrong.

Before your eyes even have a chance to adjust to the change in lighting, a calloused hand is gripped tight onto your upper arm, dragging you deeper backstage as you exclaim in protest and try to snatch your arm out of the iron hold that traps it.

“What the—Joel?! Get the fuck off me! What are you–”

“Will you fuckin’ quiet down?” Joel hisses next to your ear. “Quit makin’ a goddamn scene, already made enough of one as it is.”

Despite your struggle against him, his size and strength overpower you, and before you know it you’re being shoved into a dressing room, the door getting slammed shut and locked behind you in a second.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you shout up at him as he backs you into the door, finally letting go of your arm to loom over you and brace one of his hands next to your head.

“I can ask you the same goddamn thing. What the fuck was that out there, hm?” He spits back at you.

You massage the aching finger-shaped marks on your skin where he had gripped you, eyeing him with an annoyed expression. “It was just a song, what is your fucking problem?”

He scoffs, rolling his neck as his brows twitch in disbelief. “Just a song, right. Everybody knew that shit was about me.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, both from the anxiety of being confronted like this and the aggravation caused by his egomaniacal tendencies. “You are so fucking self-centered, it’s insane. It could’ve been about anyone—”

“But it wasn’t, huh?” Joel interrupts. “Who else do they know that has a filthy title inked into his hand, as you put it. Gimme a break, sweetheart. As if that same title didn’t have you soakin’ your fuckin’ panties for me last night.”

You hate that you can feel your cunt flutter in response to his words. “Whatever, will you just let me go? This isn’t very professional of you, locking me in your goddamn dressing room just so you can throw a fit,” you retort.

Realization flashes across his face as he steps back from you, breathing a heavy sigh. “Professional…” he speaks quietly, testing out the word, searching for the meaning behind why you had used it so pointedly. “Jesus Christ, is that what this is about? You are such a goddamn child, you know that?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, crossing your arms now that he’s given you the room to do so. “Didn’t seem to think of me that way last night. I’m a big girl, I can do what I want, why do you care so much if I wrote a stupid song about you?”

Joel shuts his eyes, scrunching up his face like he’s fighting against what he wants to say next. “Because, fuck—This ain’t what I wanted, okay? Said I wanted to keep it professional between us, not that I wanted you to make a goddamn fool outta me in front’a God and everybody.”

“Well, what do you want?” You push, stepping into his space as your blood begins to boil over. “Because I thought you fucking cared about me, and then you just told me to get lost this morning, like none of it meant anything to you—”

“Of course it fuckin’ meant somethin’ to me, Jesus Christ.” Joel says, so breathlessly it’s like the words escape his mouth before he can catch them. “Did this for your own goddamn good—”

“Oh, for my own good?”

“Yes, for your own good. Because I know what you want this to be, and I can’t give that to you, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but he shifts his jaw like he considers it, and lets your angered breathing fill the silence.

“Huh?” You provoke, hitting your palms against his broad chest once. Your push hardly does anything to knock him off his balance, but you swear it makes his eyes darken. “Why not?” You demand a second time.

You can tell he wants to bite back, but he suppresses the instinct, instead backing away from you as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Y’ know what, I ain’t gonna do this with you right now. We can talk about this later.”

Joel makes for the exit, but you dart in front of the door handle, feet planted firmly on the ground as you block his only way out. You grit your teeth as you stare up at him, daring him to either do something about it or finish what he started.

He takes another steadying breath. “Really ain’t helpin’ your case much right about now. I suggest you move, sweetheart.” His voice registers a somewhat eerie calm, the kind that a storm usually follows.

“You don’t get to back out of this.”

“Ain’t backin’ out. Said we’re gonna talk about it later. Move.”

You stare at each other in strained silence for a few moments, neither of you in the mood to give in to the other. You doubt that you’re about to bear witness to the first time Joel has ever submitted to someone else, so you slide away from the door, making a vow to yourself to find him after the show and force him to make good on his word.

“‘S what I thought,” he huffs, unlocking the door and slinking out into the hallway. He holds his head a little too high for someone too scared to tell you how he feels, like it’ll eat him alive if he admits to anyone that he really does have a heart.

You step out of the room and watch him walk, waiting until he gets a few paces away from you to grumble under your breath, “Self-centered and a fucking coward.”

Either Joel wasn’t as far out of earshot as you had thought, or the angry thudding of your pulse inside your head had made it difficult to tell just how loud you had said your little dig. He stops in his tracks, giving you a second to sweat before turning around to face you. “What was that?” he asks, but you already know he had heard you loud and clear. He begins to stalk towards you, and that predatory sway of his shoulders has you suddenly feeling meek.

“N-nothing,” you lie, backing into the dressing room as he continues his prowl.

“Nah, go ahead. You wanna do this right now, we’ll do it right now. What’d you say, baby? C’mon.” Joel’s movement forces you backward until the base of your spine hits the edge of the vanity table in the room. You wince at the impact and the sound of the door slamming shut again, and then he’s bracing both of his hands on either side of your hips, caging you in. Joel’s hot breath ghosts against your face as his eyes seem to glow a fiery shade you’ve never seen before. “Say it again.”

You swallow hard, nervous eyes flitting around his face, unsure of the safest place to land, or if there even is one. “Called you a coward…” you admit softly, voice trembling.

“Yeah? I’m a fuckin’ coward? What else, hm? Why don’t you use your big girl words and say to my face what you really wanted to say about me out there instead o’ that bullshit lil’ poem you wrote.” He’s just being mean now, lashing out because you hit him where it hurts. But god fucking dammit, there’s something about the way he’s standing over you, how he’s using his size to intimidate you and how the smell of his cologne mingles with the fading aroma of his last cigarette, that begins to cloud your judgment. You can’t help the way a dampness begins to bloom between your thighs as a result of his demeaning words and close proximity.

You figure you don’t have much of a reason to hold anything back anymore, already having pissed him off by threatening his ego twice in one night. “I hate you,” you rasp, which is pretty much what the lyrics of your song boil down to. You do hate him, for saying all the right things and touching you all the right ways to make you think he wanted the two of you to be something, only to throw your naivety in your face, tell you that you’re acting like a child when he’s the one who tried to give up and walk out when something became more complicated than he could handle.

“Yeah, I bet you do. Think you can do better than that, though, huh? Sure had plenty to say earlier, don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart.” He spits the pet name at you like it’s an insult, coated in the venom dripping from his sharp canines.

“Fuck you,” you snap, eyes welling up and threatening to spill over despite yourself.

Joel spins you around as soon as the words leave your lips, pinning your wrists behind your back with just one of his hands, using the other one to grip your jaw and make you face your own reflection in the vanity mirror. You shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to confront what he’s reduced you to, and he allows you to keep them that way for now.

“You want me to? That why you’re all fired up, ‘cause you need Daddy to fuck this bratty ass attitude outta you?” Joel rumbles next to your ear.

You struggle to shake your head in his hold, mumbling, “No, I don’t.”

“No? So if I reach my hand under this lil’ dress, I ain’t gonna feel that pretty pussy drippin’ for me?”

You aren’t sure why you bother lying to him again, humming an mm-mm that sounds more like a whimper.

“Hmm, let’s see about that, then,” Joel muses, releasing your face from his hold to bend you forward and flip up the skirt of your dress. “Would you look at that… panties are ‘bout fuckin’ soaked through, ain’t they?” You whine as he begins to rub your folds over your underwear, pulling back the crotch of them and letting it go so that you can feel the damp snap of the fabric against your sensitive skin. “Thought you were such a good girl… you like it a lil’ mean, hm? ‘S that why you pulled that stunt tonight, to get Daddy all worked up so he’d treat you the way you really been wantin’?”

You feel a stinging smack on your ass before you’ve even finished muttering a complete No. Joel’s rough hand does nothing to soothe the burn as he rubs it around your smarted flesh, squeezing at the plush of your ass with a possessive grip. “Had just about enough of you lyin’ to me tonight. Why don’t you tell me the goddamn truth and I’ll give you what you want, hm? Gonna ask one more time. You want Daddy to beat up this lil’ brat pussy?” He asks, moving his hand back to the wet fabric of your panties, circling your clit over the material with the pad of his finger.

You can’t help but moan at his crude language, releasing another pulse of wetness in response. “Mmh, yes, please—” you mewl.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes,” Joel barks, and it startles you into obedience. “Yes, who?” he challenges, making eye contact with your reflection in the mirror.

He continues his ministrations over your covered clit, and you force your brain to work through the distraction, to give him what he wants and not earn yourself another spank.

“Y-yes, Daddy, I want it,” you admit, your voice drenched in a pathetic need. 

Joel swiftly yanks your panties to the side, practically tearing them clean off your body with one hand in an effort to expose your swollen core to him, not daring to release your aching wrists from the other one’s hold. He circles your dripping entrance with the rough tips of two of his fingers, not pushing all the way inside just yet.

“Think you owe me a goddamn apology first, hm?” he taunts, using his fingers to smear your ashamed slick around your entrance.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry–” you whine, pushing back into him impatiently.

Smack. “For what, baby? What’re you sorry for?” Joel presses, his harsh spank telling you to stay fuckin’ still. 

“For… for writing that song… for calling you a c-coward… ‘m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry–” you cry. He shoves both of his thick fingers inside you as your reward, carving out space for them inside your little hole as he starts up a bruising pace, the obscene wet sounds of his movements filling the room and mingling with your broken little wails. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, getting ordered around and talked down to and used like this by someone you said you hated only a few minutes ago, but you don’t really care to unpack that right now. Or ever. Maybe you were naive and immature in thinking that this thing you’ve gotten yourself into could ever pan out like what you’ve seen in the movies, but you think you could learn to be content with what he is willing to offer you—praise doled out as easily as he deprives you of it, a firm hand and fingers that can strum along your clit as expertly as he does the strings of his guitar, and a cock that makes you feel like someone else entirely, that can send you somewhere far away and bring you back down to earth at the same time. You let him use his fingers to pound all that angst and fire and attitude out of you as your eyelids flutter shut again, losing yourself in the feeling of him.

“How many times I gotta tell you, huh? Keep ‘em open, look, baby,” Joel commands, letting go of your wrists to deliver a light smack to the side of your face. You fall forward at the sudden release of his hold, catching yourself on the vanity table and digging your nails into the hard surface to ground yourself. His punishing hand forces your gaze straight ahead with a claw-like grip on your jaw, and your eyelids still feel so heavy, everything moving slowly as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your parted lips, smeared mascara, and unfocused gaze paint a debauched version of yourself that you don’t recognize, blurred by the sleepy submissive state he seems to be able to plunge you into so easily. “Take a good goddamn look in the mirror, at what I’m doin’ to you, and you tell me if you really want this.”

Every sharp thrust of his hand against your cunt knocks loose more and more of your ability to think, let alone speak. But you know by now that if Joel demands a response from you, he’ll get one, coherent or not. He seems to like it when your words come out a ruined mess of whines and slurred syllables, anyway, getting off on how hard and fast he can knock down those walls you attempt to put up and turn you into something so servile and saccharine.

“Want it, please, Daddy,” you beg, struggling to hold yourself up as his fingers get you closer and closer to your release.

“You sure about that? ‘Cause this is what you’re gonna get, sweetheart,” Joel grunts, the exaggerated word punctuated by the stretch of a third finger joining the other two inside your already fucked-out cunt.

“D-don’t care, just want you—ah—” you’re cut off by the sudden stroking of Joel’s curled fingers against a particularly tender and unfamiliar spot inside you. You begin to unravel at the overwhelming feeling, letting out little wanton pleases and Daddys as you continue to soak his tattooed hand.

“Fuck, gonna be the goddamn death o’ me, lil’ songbird, you know that? Tried to stop this shit before it could get started, tried to keep you away from me, but I just can’t seem to fuckin’ help myself, can I? We’d be nothin’ but bad for each other, but—shit—been thinkin’ ‘bout this tight cunt all goddamn day, couldn’t get the taste o’ you outta my mouth. Reckon I never will… In fact—” Joel pulls his fingers out of you in an instant, and you cry out from the sudden loss as you watch him suck them clean in the mirror. You feel dizzy, letting him manhandle you as he spins you around to face him and hoists you on top of the vanity table with little effort. He groans as he crouches, pulling your drenched panties down your legs and tossing them somewhere behind him. With your raw-looking cunt now fully exposed to him, he spreads your legs wide and curses under his breath, “Should’a done this shit last night, fuck—” before diving in between your thighs and licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. He latches onto the sensitive nub, closing his eyes and sucking hard as his large hands force your legs to stay open. You let your upper back rest against the mirror as he works you over, and the cool glass sends a shiver down your spine as your hips tilt upward, allowing him better access.

He drinks from you as if you taste like his favorite top-shelf whiskey, growling into your flesh as he’s surely leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the softness of your thighs. He alternates between swirling his tongue around your clit and fucking it in and out of your hole, beckoning you to spill yourself into his mouth. He savors every wave of slick that pours from you, each of your little cries and whimpers making his cock strain harder against the confines of his jeans. 

You can’t help but let one of your hands drift to his hair, and he doesn’t stop you from grabbing onto his messy curls as you buck pathetically against his tongue. 

“Such a sweet lil’ cunt, got me fuckin’ addicted to it, I swear…” Joel half-whispers, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit to make up for the absence of his tongue as he speaks, your hips still desperately chasing after his movements. He spits onto your folds once, watching it drip between the curves of them for a moment before lapping up your combined juices and picking up where he left off. Your eyes are shut tight, brows peaked with need as you beg him to keep going, please, Daddy, gonna come.

Joel pulls away again just enough to tease, “Always come for me so easily, don’t you? Sing for me, songbird, c’mon.” A few more rough strums of his thumb and pulses of his tongue have you crying out, shaking where you sit on the table as you gush into his waiting mouth. Joel works you through it as you practically ride his face, your hips twitching with each overstimulating flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit.

He doesn’t wait very long for you to come back into yourself, the impatient bastard that he is, before he’s commanding you to open and using his strong fingers to yank your jaw downward. Your eyes blink open just in time to watch him spit a mouthful of your own release onto your waiting tongue, and then he’s pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting around each other as he forces you to taste yourself. So immersed in the distraction of finally feeling his lips against your own, you don’t notice when he loosens his grip on your face to grab one of your hands instead, placing it on his still-clothed bulge and growling into your mouth as you massage the hard shape of him.

“Feel what you do to me, babygirl?” Joel breaks the kiss to ask, voice low and eyes dark. “Even if I kept you away from me, wouldn’t fuckin’ matter. Still have to take care o’ myself one way or another, would just be pretendin’ it was your perfect cunt squeezin’ me instead o’ my hand, anyway. Might as well stick to the real thing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, lashes fluttering at his filthy words.

“Yeah? You want it? Want Daddy to split you open again?”

Your skin is burning hot, every one of your nerve endings on fire with need, and you don’t care how pitiful you sound when you answer with, “Please, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Joel praises. He makes quick work of ridding himself of his belt, tossing it aside to join your discarded panties on the floor with a metallic thud before freeing his leaking cock from his jeans. He prods the thick head at your entrance, still so wet and stretched out from the earlier efforts of his fingers and tongue that he slides inside with hardly any resistance. “Greedy thing…” he hisses, holding onto your hips as he watches his thick length begin to slide in and out of you. A flash of silver catches his attention from the edge of his vision, and he focuses there instead, on the cross shaped charm dangling from your neck and resting between your breasts. He picks it up between his large thumb and forefinger, rubbing the pads of them along the smooth metal. “Probably shouldn’t be wearin’ such a thing anymore, hm? Now that I know how much of a whore you really are.”

“Not… ‘m not a whore,” you counter, but it’s so futile, meaning nothing at all when you really take a look at where you are now, how it all began, and how your voice cracks in your poor attempt to prove him wrong.

“Y’ are, though, songbird. ‘S okay that you are. Only for me though, huh? Jus’ Daddy’s whore? All mine?” Joel drops the cross in favor of cradling your cheek, hurrying his pace as he taunts you. There’s no use in denying it, not when his degrading words prompt your cunt to squeeze around him and provide more slick aid for his quickening thrusts, an involuntary whine escaping your throat. You’re seeing such a different side to him now than the one he showed you the night before, and you begin to wonder which one is the real Joel, or if either of them are, or if both of them are, somehow. Or if he even knows. You’re willing to take whichever one he decides to let you have, you think.

“Y-your whore, Daddy… wanna be yours, please,” you babble, his cock hitting you deep and hard as you let him fuck you so dumb you allow yourself to just give in and agree to whatever he says you are, whatever he wants you to be, just the way he likes.

“Fuck,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, removing his hand from your face and to grip onto the plush of your hip again. Your pliant state and filthy admission combined with that sinful symbol around your neck spur him on, and he uses his hold on your skin to fuck into you with abandon. “Really would just let me ruin you, huh? Tried to be a decent man for once in my goddamn life, but you just had to be a fuckin’ brat about it and start some shit, didn’t you? If you don’t want me decent, tha’s fine by me, baby. But lemme make somethin’ real goddamn clear to you,” he rambles, each slam of his hips into yours getting you closer to release for the second time. He delivers another sharp slap to your cheek with a You listenin’? and you nod to the best of your ability, finding it impossible to focus your eyes on him as that knot in your stomach begins to tighten.

“You want this, you wanna be mine, you can be mine, babygirl. Lord knows I’d find my way right back inside this sinful lil’ cunt, anyway. But this ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ relationship, you understand? Take it or leave it, songbird.” He slows his thrusts as he spells out his ultimatum, but they still make you ache, all the same. His fiery gaze bores a hole straight through your skull as he awaits your response.

“Take it, w-wanna take it, Daddy.” The desperation in your voice and painted across your expression have him returning to his punitive pace, grunting and swearing into the warm skin of your neck as your hands scramble across his back, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his shoulder. His thick leather jacket helps to muffle your cries as he loses all control, using your body to chase after his own high.

“Course you’re gonna take it, filthy thing. Made to fuckin’ take it, Christ,” Joel rambles, your vocalizations increasing in pitch as you squeeze around him, whole body tensing as your sore pussy prepares to drench him one more time. “So goddamn desperate… Just take whatever I give you, however I wanna give it to you, always have you comin’ on my cock just the same, huh? Go on, babygirl, come for Daddy again, tha’s right…”

With his permission, and a few more just-right strokes of his tip against that sweet spot deep inside your walls, you’re spasming in his hold, whining that filthy title you had just used against him less than an hour ago. He spills his release into you at the same time, and despite the way he’s treated you and the words he’s spat at you tonight, it makes you feel whole again.

You breathe heavily against each other for a few minutes, neither of you wanting to let go as you both struggle to process what the hell just happened, what it will mean for the remainder of the tour. 

A sudden knock at the door quickly yanks you out of your thoughts, offering a taste of what the future may hold much earlier than you were expecting.

“Joel? You in there?” a voice asks from outside the dressing room.

“Huh…? Yeah, just gimme a–”

The door opens before Joel can finish answering, and you can see clear as day over his shoulder that it’s Jesse.

He claps his hand over his eyes when he notices you, but you can still see how his cheeks burn red under his fingers as he shifts where he stands, undoubtedly trying to come up with the least mortifying way to get himself out of this situation.

“Jesus, kid–” Joel grumbles, finally pulling out of you and shoving his still-slick cock back into his briefs. He zips himself up as you tug the skirt of your dress back down to cover yourself, still feeling much more exposed than you’d like as you eye your forgotten panties laying just a few feet from where Jesse stands.

“Sorry! Sorry, Joel. It’s just, uh—”

Joel turns to face him as he finishes adjusting himself, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t walk away from you completely, using his broad form to provide you with what little modesty he can afford under the circumstances. “What, Jess?” he barks, exasperated.

“Um… The guys asked me to come find you, we’re on in like a minute—” 

“Well, tell ‘em to hold their fuckin’ horses. I’m comin,” Joel orders.

“A-alright, I will, man. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you out there.” 

Jesse leaves the room as hurriedly as he had entered, nervously fumbling with the handle as he shuts the door on his way out. “That kid ever learn how to fuckin’ knock?” Joel mutters to himself, picking his belt up off the floor and looping it back around his waist. He retrieves your ruined panties when he’s done and casually tosses them over to you, a stark contrast from the attentive aftercare he had provided last night. You slide off the vanity table and tug them back on over your legs, shivering at the feeling of the cool, damp fabric against where you’re so sensitive and sore, still leaking Joel’s spend. You fidget with the hem of your dress and try to ignore the way your heart sinks into your stomach, wondering what Jesse must think of you now. You haven’t really spoken to him at all since this whole thing started, and you doubt you ever will after what happened tonight. Of course, he’d had a front row seat to your obscene little performance during Kiss it Better, but it was all just an act, as far as he knew. But he has more than enough confirmation now to know that it very much wasn’t, and the humiliation of it all makes your anxious imagination begin to run wild. Your bottom lip quivers at the thought of Jesse running straight back to the guys with a shit-eating look on his face, eager to tell them all about how he just saw their opening act with her legs spread for Joel in his dressing room. Images flash through your mind of the band you’ve looked up to for so long now shooting you dirty looks backstage and whispering about you amongst themselves, sharing their doubts about if you really deserve to be touring with them at all. Maybe they’d call you easy, say that you’re just another dumb slut who gave it up for the first rockstar who asked, that your career will be doomed unless you grow up and learn to respect yourself a little more. And maybe they’d be right.

You can’t stop a few hot tears from rolling down your cheek at your catastrophizing, but you wipe them away quickly. This is what you asked for, isn’t it? Joel had given you an opportunity to leave this where he had ended it, and you were the one who had begged to be his, even after he showed you what it would look like, and told you explicitly what it would never be. You pull your shoulders back and make an effort to stand up a little straighter as he addresses you again, not wanting to look like some pathetic, defeated thing.

“You good? Need anythin’?” Joel asks, and it would be kind of sweet if he weren’t halfway out the door already. 

You sniffle a little, but try to feign nonchalance as you shake your head and reply, “No, ‘m fine.”

You must not do a very good job of it, because he’s craning his neck to look down the hallway as soon as you finish your sentence, like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. “Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Joel says to you, giving an annoyed shake of his head. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll go to his grave swearin’ he didn’t see anything. Kid knows better,” he reassures, and it does help to slow the unspooling of your thoughts some. 

“Okay,” is all you offer, along with a small smile.

Joel nods curtly, “Okay.” And after another beat and a rake of his eyes along your form, “I’ll see ya, songbird.”

He’s gone before you can reply, and you let the sound of the door closing ring out in your ears until you’re left in total silence, save for the sound of your own unsteady breathing. More than anything else, you just want to head back to your bus and scrub yourself clean of him, to put on unstained clothes and remove your ruined makeup so that you have a better chance of recognizing yourself in the mirror if you’re unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of your reflection. Maybe if you hurry the pace of your walk of shame, you can outrun the feeling altogether, you think, swinging the dressing room door open and letting it slam behind you as you make a swift exit, heading straight for the one place that even slightly resembles a home to you right now. You keep your head low as you wander the unfamiliar backstage halls, and hold the skirt of your dress down against the breeze that threatens to expose you yet again when you push open the venue’s back door. More tears begin to fall as your boots carry you up the steps of your bus and lead you to your private little room in the back, and you don’t wipe them away this time, although you can’t put your finger on why they stream down your skin so impatiently, one stinging droplet after another.

You sit down heavily on the edge of your bed, although you have a strange urge to kneel at the foot of it instead. Your fingers find their way to your crucifix as you contemplate the idea, and it hits you all at once how very lost you feel. You miss… something. Your mother? Perhaps not, but maybe the idea of having a caregiver, someone to turn to when you feel the way you do now, to help you sort through the tangled knot of emotions unraveling itself in your heart and attempt to make some kind of sense of it. She wasn’t the perfect mother, by any means, but she tried, and it was her first time being a woman too, after all. You are following in her footsteps, as many daughters aspire to do with their mothers, but you don’t think she would be very proud of the particular path of hers you’ve begun to find yourself stumbling down—the one that leads you to a man who won’t change himself, who can’t, but who you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you deserve, because you’ve never known a man who’s told you otherwise. 

And now here you sit, alone, in the dark cave of your too-big bus on the second night of a career-changing national tour, crying girlish tears and missing something you can’t place but that you know you can’t go back to, wishing someone could just wipe your mind clean and tell you that you’re good and that you’re not a disappointment to your mother and God even though you don’t really care what they think of you anymore, anyway. You need someone to tell you who you are, and Joel seems to know the answer—a good girl, a whore, his songbird. You shift at the memories of when those names for you have spilled from his mouth, and you’re reminded of the wet fabric still pressed against your core. It feels good when he tells you who you are, after all, when he slots himself inside of you and makes you feel like something he owns, when he makes you feel perfect and floaty and beautiful and like he knows you better than you’ve ever known yourself.

And how could something that feels so good ever be bad for you?

—

The whiskey burns as it slides down the back of Joel’s throat, but it still isn’t strong enough. All it does is remind him of the igniting spark that led to the blaze now engulfing him—when you’d both had a few glasses of the stuff swimming around in your blood streams in the green room of last night’s venue, when he’d lured you onto his lap and teased the wet spot on your panties and asked if you’d let him touch you. He knew you were going to say yes, but it was still the respectable thing to do, and he had liked hearing you beg for it all pretty and polite. He fears that’s the last he may have seen of that version of you, that what he did this morning had stomped out the little delicate, glimmering light that had drawn him to you in the first place. And if it wasn’t snuffed out then, it’s surely nothing but a wisp of smoke now.

Joel had recognized when everything had started to become too real too fast, in the dark of his bus last night when even in your sleep, you had seemed to consider him as something warm and comforting and safe, instead of the beast that he knows himself to be, with too sharp of claws and too loud of a roar. He had tried to do the right thing for once in his goddamn life by finally thinking about someone other than himself, so why didn’t you take the opportunity to get out of this while you had the chance? What is it that you see in him that he knows for a fact isn’t there, has never been there? You had retaliated because you had wanted this to work, because he had hurt you when he shoved you away, but he can’t possibly fathom why you’ve chosen to fight so hard for this. And he’d only gone and proved himself right when he responded to your reprisal the only way he knows how, especially when you’d used that word against him that he’s always been avoidant to admit about himself—coward.

And you were right, weren’t you? Joel is a fucking coward. He does everything in his power to pretend otherwise, to show his fans and the world a version of himself who’s never for a second thought of himself as anything less than God incarnate. And maybe except for Tommy, no one has ever been the wiser to his ruse, until you. And it scares him, to be seen so clearly. Because then he might actually have to try to understand where all these defense mechanisms came from in the first place, and he can’t have that. 

Coward.

Joel tosses back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, releasing his white-knuckled grip on it and slamming it back down onto the green room’s bar cart. He knows that his band and about twenty thousand people are waiting for him to buck up and emerge from yet another hiding place, and he realizes that this is becoming a pattern with you—you awaken some long-dormant feeling from deep inside of him, it makes him feel threatened, and he retreats until it goes away and he remembers how to paint his mask back on. And the one time you didn’t allow him to run away, he lashed out like a caged animal and undoubtedly gave you a pretty solid idea of what he meant by “for your own good”. And yet, you were so desperate to be allowed any part of him at all that even in his most volatile and beastly state, with his talons out and his teeth bared, you didn’t run away. You didn’t even try. You didn’t want to. You took everything he had given you like it was a privilege to do so, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why. 

Joel shakes himself out, hitting a solid hand against his cheek once in order to bring himself back from the depths of another unwanted episode of introspection and self-loathing, and lets the burn of the whiskey dissipate as he makes his way to where the rest of Death’s Head is waiting for him. He can feel their eyes on him without even needing to look, and snaps out a defensive I don’t wanna hear it before any of the guys get a chance to say anything. 

Tommy shrugs, stepping up to Joel with his arms crossed. “Wasn’t gonna say nothin’.” 

Joel finally turns to face the group, giving each member a scrutinizing once-over in an attempt to read their body language, to suss out if they’re just pissed because he left them waiting, or if Jesse ran his mouth while he was gone. When Joel’s examining eyes land on the dark-haired guitarist, Jesse’s quick to shake his head, mouthing the words they don’t know. Satisfied, Joel nods once in understanding, adjusting his jacket and cracking his neck before turning toward the stage again.

“Y’all ready, or what?” he mutters rhetorically, not bothering to wait for an answer before he marches his way into the spotlights and allows them to enshroud him, burning up what remains of that cowardly version of him, if only for the remainder of the night. Joel picks up his guitar, swinging the strap around his chest before fiddling with his mic stand as the deafening sound of the crowd reminds him of who the fuck he is, or at least, who they think he is. Who he pretends to be. And he gets to believe it for the next two hours. If he plays the part well enough, maybe he can lose himself in it entirely. But then, hasn’t he been trying to do that for the past couple of decades? It hasn’t seemed to work yet, but it doesn’t hurt to keep trying. 

Or maybe it does.

—

You feel a little better now, more at ease, now that you’ve had some time to focus on taking care of yourself. It’s easy to forget the wonders that a hot shower can do for a girl, especially when you have to fight against your own brain just to get up and take the ten or so steps towards the bathroom, when you’d much rather stay curled up in the same position on your bed until your skin adheres to the sheets. Now having scrubbed away the tears and the sweat and the tacky dampness between your thighs, you emerge from a cloud of rose-scented humidity as someone you think you understand a little better now, who deserves to be taken care of instead of reprimanded for only doing her best with what she’s been given.

With clean hair and skin and a comfortable change of sleep-ready attire, you decide to finally make some efforts to unpack your suitcase and make your little room feel more like a home. You hang your dresses up on the rack, set your shoes into a somewhat orderly line on the carpet below them, and place your jewelry neatly onto the antique tray you had carefully packed away to bring along with you. You had found it in a little thrift store downtown, when you had first left home and decided you needed something that was only yours, something pretty and special that you could look at everyday and know that it was the very first step in building the life that you had always wanted for yourself. The brass needs a little polishing, but it’s still one of the most beautiful objects you’ve ever seen, and the way the ceiling lights glint off the metal brightens up your space just enough that it feels a little more familiar to you now. 

Your earrings and other necklaces fill the blank space in the center of the neatly carved filigree, and you make the decision to add your crucifix to the pile of silver studs and chains. It’s strange how such a simple charm can make things feel so complicated. You haven’t taken it off in so long that you fear the guilt that might come with removing it, but you figure it will still be there for you if you ever feel like clipping it around your neck again. And if that feeling never comes, then you’ll deal with that then, too.

For now, you breathe a little deeper without the weight of the thing resting against your chest, and smile to yourself when you hear a small group of excitable-sounding male voices approaching your bus. Your bandmates file through the door a second later, though you’re suddenly shy to greet them as you emerge from your bedroom, worried that they might be pissed at you for what you sprung on them earlier in the night. You lean against the doorframe as they each collapse onto the living area couches, cracking open beers from the minifridge and passing them around to each other.

“Hey, you,” greets your floppy-haired drummer, Max, patting the cushion next to him. If any of the guys were to be easy going about what you put them through tonight, it would be him. You’re happy to see that he doesn’t seem to hold any animosity towards you. “You want me to crack one open for you?” he offers.

“Um… sure,” you agree, approaching the group and relaxing into the open seat next to him as he hands you a bottle. You take a few swigs while the guys begin to talk amongst themselves, waiting for an opportune lull in their conversation for you to chime in.

It comes about halfway through your beer. “So, listen,” you start, setting the sweating bottle on the table in front of you as you feel their gazes shift in your direction. “I’m sorry for pulling that on you guys tonight. This whole thing is just as big for y’all as it is for me and… I guess I forgot about that, for a second,” you say, although the end of your sentence kind of sounds like a question. “I really appreciate how you backed me up out there, that’s all.”

It’s rare that the four of you get sincere with each other like this, and your apology lingers in the air for a moment before someone else speaks up. 

“It’s alright, kid.” The comforting voice comes from Scott, your quiet and kind-eyed bassist. “We’re all professionals here, yeah? We’d be some sad fuckin’ musicians if we couldn’t improvise every once in a while.” You laugh at that, and his lopsided smile warms you when you meet his soft expression.

“I mean, I kinda fucked up a little bit,” says Joey, your rhythm guitarist, ever-reliable for lightening the mood. “You sounded badass though, so whatever. Nothin’ you need to apologize for.” When you turn your head to look at him, he looks slightly uncomfortable with the way Max has him pressed up against the wall, but his gaze is sincere. “You wanna talk about it, though? Some pretty heavy shit you wrote.”

You do consider it, but shake your head, having reflected on it quite enough for one night. “Not right now,” you reply, and he gives you a sympathetic smile in return. “One of you have a smoke, though? Think I’m just gonna get some air and call it a night.” 

“Now, how are you gonna ‘get some air’ with all that smoke in your lungs?” Scott jests, and you give him a look before standing up and holding your palm out flat to him, making a hand it over gesture with your fingers. 

“Don’t give me shit, dude, I know you have one. That’s why I asked.”

Despite his protest, he digs the pack out of his pocket and slides one out, playfully holding it hostage against his chest. “Still shouldn’t smoke ‘em, though. Gonna ruin your voice one of these days.”

You roll your eyes at him, but laugh, anyway. “Fine, tonight’s my last one, I promise. Just gimme.”

Scott extends his hand out to you, and you snatch the cigarette out of his hold. “Light, too?” he asks, and you nod, leaning down to him with it in your mouth already.

You make a quick exit when the tobacco begins to burn, trying to fill the bus with as little smoke as possible, but not before making your appreciation known to the guys one last time. When you step out into the chilly night air, you wish you’d brought a sweater to wrap around you, but figure the flame between your lips will warm you up soon enough. 

The Death’s Head bus is parked just up ahead, and you can make out Jesse’s silhouette in the moonlight, his back leaned against the idling vehicle as he puffs his own cloud into the sky. The sound of your bus’s door shutting behind you draws his attention your way, and you give each other a friendly nod as you each burn through your cigarettes.

“Can I join you?” he asks, having to shout in order for his voice to reach you over the rumbling engines.

The fears you were ruminating on a few hours ago all come rushing back to you in an instant, but his inquiry seems casual enough for you to let your guard back down a little. It would be rude of you to decline, and it might be nice to get to know him a bit more if he’s offering, you suppose.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply, nodding for good measure in case your voice didn’t come out loud enough. His long legs close the short distance between you in just a few seconds, and you shove your unoccupied hand into your pocket in an effort to come across more relaxed than you feel. You’ve never been great at small talk, or meeting new people, especially ones who’ve walked in on you after having just been fucked by the lead singer of his band. 

You’re grateful that Jesse decides to break the silence first. “So, uh… you two, huh?”

“Mhm,” is all you offer, kicking a rock around the asphalt with the toe of your shoe.

“Yeah… Well, I don’t want you to feel weird around me, or anything. We can just forget it ever happened.”

You can’t help but release a puff of smoke through an awkward giggle. “Sounds good to me.”

“And I didn’t tell the other two, just so you know.”

His admission makes you pause, trapping the rock underneath your shoe as you peer up at him. “You didn’t? So… they don’t know?”

Jesse shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Well, Tommy might, just ‘cause he knows Joel better than anybody, but Eugene’s probably clueless. They’re all good guys, they won’t give you shit for it even if they do find out… I might, though, just for fun.” He nudges your shoulder with his as he jokes, and it makes you laugh a little more earnestly this time. “Just… be careful, that’s all. And I want you to know you have a friend in me, if you ever feel like you need one.”

His kindness is nearly enough to bring you to tears. You feel so relieved that everything the worst parts of your brain had conjured up had all been a lie, that Jesse isn’t who you feared he’d be, and that he’s offering you his friendship, even after he’d seen you in such an embarrassing and compromising state tonight. 

“Jess!” Joel yells from the doorway of his bus, and the harsh gravel voice startles both of you out of the moment you’d been sharing. “Finish up, kid. Takin’ off in a few.”

Jesse nods, raising the end of his cigarette in acknowledgement before stomping it out on the pavement. “It was nice talking to you. Remember what I said, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, and he’s handsome and boyish when he smiles back at you before following his orders and jogging back to his own bus, sliding through the door past Joel’s broad form.

Joel’s expression is hard, but otherwise unreadable as he juts his chin at you, wordlessly suggesting the same direction he’d just barked at Jesse. He shuts the door behind him as he steps inside, and you think on Jesse’s words as you finish puffing your smoke down to a nub. Be careful, he’d cautioned, and it’s like he had been waiting outside for you to make sure he had a chance to tell you that. Remember what I said, like it was important to him that you took his words to heart. You finally toss the end of your own cigarette onto the ground, letting it sizzle out before heading back inside and carefully passing the now-occupied bunks as you make your way to your own little sanctuary. 

You’re still buzzing from the tobacco as you close yourself into your room and crawl into bed, and you can’t decide if the emptiness of it makes you feel comforted or afraid. You don’t necessarily wish you had Joel’s heavy, lumbering form tucked in beside you, but you hadn’t anticipated how having a bed to yourself would leave you with only the company of your own thoughts. You try not to dwell too much on Jesse’s warning, instead trying to snuff it out like the smoldering end of your cigarette so that it doesn’t prevent you from getting some much needed rest.

Even for being a bed inside of a tour bus, you have to admit that it’s one of the most comfortable, luxurious things you’ve ever slept on, especially compared to the lumpy double bed from back in your apartment. You don’t fight it when sleep begins to pull heavily on your eyelids, the incoming wave of it washing away any lingering anxieties as you allow yourself to relax into the plush mattress.

You hardly rouse even as the bus heaves forward on its trip out of the parking lot, leaving everything that happened tonight exactly where you left it, the ghost of it now left to wander the halls of the venue instead of haunting you as you travel to the next one. And there’s something comforting in that, you think, in the idea that nothing on this tour is permanent, that your life begins anew every 24 hours in a city you’ve never been to that doesn’t know your name yet. 

And maybe that’s how you’ll figure this whole thing out, by taking it one day at a time, fluttering as close to the flame as possible without touching it, because you kind of like feeling the heat on your wings. As long as you’re careful when you dance around the fire, then there’s really nothing to be afraid of.

But only time will tell.

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[linorachas]

skz maknae line + different types of kisses

tags: fluff. slightly suggestive in hj's part. again wrote this entire thing in my notes app

hyung line version :3 | read on ao3 | buy me a coffee?

HYUNJIN (thighs)

You find Hyunjin in the living room at midnight.

You're a little bit tipsy, having drunk a few beers over the course of Changbin's birthday celebration. The slight buzz in your veins leaves you restless, and you become hyper aware of one thing: your boyfriend wasn't beside you.

So when you slip out the kitchen— narrowly escaping Minho's drunken ramblings about kimchi fried rice— Hyunjin's blonde head is easy to spot. He's leaning against the bottom of the couch, laughing at something Jeongin was saying.

And, as if you were connected by some string, Hyunjin looks up at the same time you step out, looking directly at you.

He smiles. You fall in love all over again.

"Y/N!" He calls you, excitedly waving you over.

You're quick to comply, rushing over and plopping yourself onto the empty space of the couch behind him. Hyunjin wiggles and squirms until he's settled between your legs.

He leans his head back, looking at you upside down, and grins. "Hi."

"Hi," you giggle, brushing his long hair away from his face. "Are you drunk?"

"Not drunk." He mumbles, then turns around so he can bury his face in your lap. "Just happy to see you. You left me alone."

"If I remember, someone wanted to go chase Jisung around the quad. That someone wasn't me."

Hyunjin laughs. With his position and your outfit, his lips brush against your skin with every huff. You squirm.

Hyunjin looks up at the action, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

Ears red, you squeak, "Nothing."

But Hyunjin is already suspicious. He rests his chin on your thigh and squints. You pointedly avoid his gaze.

"Baby..." he whines, and his breath ghosts against your skin again. You make a noise. "You know I don't like it when you hide stuff."

Hyunjin pouts. Your eyes automatically fall to the the jut of his bottom lip; red, plump, and so fucking kissable. It made you feel faint for it to be so close to where you wanted it to be.

You look away quickly, but you still must have stared for a second too long though, because Hyunjin suddenly smirks, seemingly having put two and two together.

"I'm not hiding anything." You huff. Hyunjin tongues his cheek.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I..."

As he spoke, Hyunjin's head slowly went down. You tense as he goes higher and higher up your thigh, his lips brushing against the tensed muscle.

And, as if that wasn't enough to put you into cardiac arrest, the worst happens.

Hyunjin looks up at you through his lashes, keeping eye contact. He parts his lips, slow and sultry, then presses a kiss onto the inside of your thigh.

You suck in a sharp breath. Arousal tingles down your spine.

But then Hyunjin yelps, jerking away from you, and you snap at out of your daze and remember you're in public. Hyunjin is whining into your lap again, rubbing the back of his head. You look up to see Changbin walking away.

"No funny business on my birthday!" He shouts as he leaves, and you snort. Hyunjin huffs, irritated, and rests his chin on your thigh again.

You meet his gaze. His eyes darken, and he purposely makes his lips brush against your thigh again when he says,

"We'll continue this later."

JISUNG (flying kiss)

"Y/N!!!!!!"

Jisung wails as he gets dragged away by the waist by Changbin. You laugh from your place on porch, dramatically reaching a hand out.

"Jisung-ah! Noooo!"

"Don't encourage him." Seungmin huffs beside you, but there's a smile on his face as he takes out his phone and starts recording. You roll your eyes.

Jisung flails in Changbin's hold. "Don't take me away! I need to be with the love of my life!"

"Jesus christ, shut up." Chan groans from the driver seat, head out the window. "You're seeing each other again in an hour."

"An hour too long!"

"And it's about to be longer when I knock you out. Get insi- ow! Did you just bite me!"

Changbin squawks, letting go of Jisung to rub at his arm. Jisung grins triumphantly, ready to bolt, but Chan manages to reach out and grab the back of his shirt before he can get away.

"Oh, no you don't! Get inside, Jisung! We're going to be late for our gig!"

You laugh as the three argue on the sidewalk. The sound catches Jisung's attention, making him halt from where he was about to bite Changbin again. He visibly softens.

You smile shyly. "Get going, Sungie. I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay? I gotta dress up real nice so everyone knows you're with the hottest babe in the room."

Jisung scoffs, lips twitching. "You could come in your pajamas and you'd still be the hottest babe in the world."

At this point, you were as red as a tomato. Seungmin makes fake gagging noises beside you. Chan and Changbin use the opportunity to wrestle Jisung inside the car.

Jisung still lets out verbal protests, but doesn't struggle anymore. As soon as the car door shuts, he's rolling the window down, pout on his face.

"I'm going to miss you!"

"In the hour that I'll be away?"

"I miss you even when we're together! I miss you right now!"

"We're going! Starting the car, leaving!" Chan exclaims over Jisung's loud declarations of love and Changbin's scolding, trying to tug Jisung inside by his shirt. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Just as the car starts, Jisung suddenly brings his palm up to his lips and says, "Y/N! Catch!"

He throws you a kiss.

You shriek with laughter as you jump to "catch" the kiss, making a show of putting it in your pocket as Jisung sends kiss after kiss. You're both giggling, sending heart eyes at each other from the short distance of the porch to the car. Despite their insistence to get going, Chan and Changbin watch fondly.

And when they finally leave, Jisung is still sending kisses, even when they're already far down the road.

Heart bursting, you still catch them.

FELIX (nose)

Flour was everywhere.

Who ever said baking was easy needed to get their ass beat, you were one measuring spoon away from collapsing down on the ground and crying.

You had been focusing on the recipe so much, double checking every detail, that you didn't notice the bag of flour slowly slipping from your hands. It lands on the counter with a soft splat. A cloud of white envelopes all of your senses.

And of course, it's at that moment that Felix walks in the kitchen. He blinks at you, covered in flour. He blinks at the mess of ingredients and materials on the counter. He blinks at you again.

Then, his lips slowly curl up. You let out a loud groan.

"Don't laugh! Shut up!"

"I'm not," Felix says through giggles. "I'm not laughing at you, it's just-"

"Haha, whatever. See if I ever bake you a cake again. I don't get how you even have the patience to do all this."

"Well, I am with you. Takes a lot of patience for that."

"Yah-" You gasp, glaring, but you probably looked stupid with flour all over your face. Felix just confirms it by laughing even harder.

"Lix," you start to whine, feeling the embarrassment creep up on you. You just wanted to make a stupid cake for your stupid boyfriend. He had made baking look so easy, and yet-

Felix finally stifles his giggles, clearing his throat as he walks over to you. There's still a sheen of amusement in his eyes though, especially when he cups your face in his hands. You pout up at him.

"Baking is hard."

"I know."

"And expensive."

"It is."

You sniffle. "I wanted to bake you a cake."

"Don't be sad," Felix coos, smushing your face. "We can still bake one together."

"But I wanted it to be a surprise."

"I'm already surprised." Felix snickers, eyeing your flour covered form, and you hiss as you pinch his waist. He yelps, but doesn't stop smiling.

"You're so mean."

"And you're so cute." Felix whispers. You feel the tips of your ears burn. "Oh, the flour missed a spot."

You frown, about to ask where, but then Felix leans in and brushes his lips against your nose.

His eyes are sparkly when he pulls away, and your heart rabbits in your chest.

"You-" you fume, because why would he do that, you looked stupid, why does he look at you like you're the cutest thing on earth, why isn't he mad you messed up his kitchen, "Why-"

"I love you." He says, like it was that simple. Maybe it was. "You tried to bake a cake for me even though you know nothing about being in a kitchen. You're so cute, and I love you."

"Well, I-!" You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat. "I... love you too. But I'm not fucking doing this again."

Felix snorts and brushes flour away from your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby. I'll do the baking for the both of us. You don't need to bake, you're already a treat, anyway."

You pinch his waist again. Felix laughs.

SEUNGMIN (cheeks)

As far as first dates go, this one was probably the best.

You hadn't thought Seungmin would be such a romantic. He had picked you up the traditional way and waited outside your apartment even though he's got a spare key. He had brought flowers and even waited outside until you put them in a vase. He took you to your favorite spots because you already knew his, and he just wanted you to enjoy the night. He holds your hand after brushing against it a couple times, and takes off his jacket to put it on you when you start to shiver from the cold night.

You were floored. This was Seungmin, your best friend since you were a child, putting all leading men to shame. Never in a million years did you think he would ever like you back, but now here he was, making sure you were the happiest person on earth. Your heart swells.

You both didn't want the night to end. Your hands stay intertwined even on the bus on the way back home, on the elevator, and outside your door.

You lean against the door as Seungmin stands in front of you, your intertwined hands hanging between you.

"You should go inside." He says, but he doesn't pull his hand away. If anything, his grip tightens. You bite back a smile.

"I should." You reply. "I don't want to."

Seungmin lets out a little laugh at that, but you both fall silent after it. You're just gazing into each other's eyes, not quite believing how you got here.

Just last week, you were ignoring each other. Thinking your feelings were unrequited, you had to take a back and distance yourself from Seungmin to stop getting your hopes up, while Seungmin, on the other hand, thought you had found out about his feelings and were avoiding him.

It took a lot of cold shoulders, misunderstandings, and longing looks across the room for you to get here, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

You're just about to ask if he wanted to come inside when you hear it: hushed voices talking from behind the door.

"Did they kiss yet?"

"Shhh! Shut up! I can't hear them!"

"Can you move? I can't see through the peephole with your big head-"

You press your lips together, annoyed. Seungmin must have heard it too because he rolls his eyes, looking up at the heavens like it would spare him.

"Minho said he wasn't going to be home tonight." You whisper, and Seungmin huffs.

"You know the hyungs. They can't sleep if we're not safe at home after a date."

"I went on a date with you."

"And I went on a date with you. We're best friends! Not strangers." Seungmin massages his head with his other hand. "I can't believe them."

"What are they talking about? I can't hear."

"I just heard best friends. Shit, are they fighting again?"

"They can't fight. I have a betting pool with the maknaes that they're going to kiss tonight."

Yours and Seungmin's eyes widen. A betting pool?! Those motherfuckers-

Seriously? You mouth to Seungmin, whose lips were twitching.

Sorry, he mouths back. I don't know why it's funny.

You roll your eyes, but you can't deny the smile that crawling up your lips too. At the sight, Seungmin's own smile widens.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your head.

Steeling yourself, you step forward. Seungmin's eyes widen a bit from how close you were now, almost chest to chest with him. He looks at you, confused, but you still catch the way his eyes drift down to your lips. You lean in, tilt your head, and-

"Are they really-"

"It's happening!"

"Move your head!"

You kiss his cheek.

At the same time, you turn the doorknob and pull. Three bodies fall though the door, groaning as they fall on top of each other.

Pulling away from Seungmin, you raise a brow at the three eldest. Chan and Changbin point to Minho.

"It was his idea." They say at the same time. Minho squawks. "Hey!"

You huff, turning around to get help in scolding them from Seungmin, but when you face him, Seungmin is in a daze. His fingers are pressing into his cheek, right at the spot you kissed him. He's red all the way up to the tips of his ears. Your eyes widen.

"Y/N, I think you broke him."

JEONGIN (lips)

"Does Jeongin hate me?"

"Considering he's your boyfriend..." Chan frowns. "I would hope not? What's this about?"

"This is about him not kissing me." You huff. "We've been dating for a month. And it's not like he doesn't want to kiss me, either! I've seen him looking at my lips!"

"So your first logical conclusion is that he hates you?"

You knew you sounded ridiculous. But you were frustrated and in dire need of Jeongin kisses. Logic be damned. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Maybe he just loves you so much that he's too shy to kiss you." Chan shrugs, turning back to his phone. "Oh, they're here."

Just as Chan finishes speaking, the door to the arcade opens, and in comes the rest of the boys. They were busy chatting and laughing amongst themselves, but Jeongin immediately spots you and makes his way over.

"Hi, you." He greets with a loving smile, arms wide open, and any doubt that littered your mind earlier disappears as you melt into his arms.

You look up at him, chin on his chest. He looks down at you and brushes away the strand of hair that's fallen in front of your eyes.

And because he's Jeongin and he's your best friend and your boyfriend who knows you like the back of his hand, he asks, "What's wrong?"

You blink. Behind you, Chan snickers. You pull away from Jeongin to shoot Chan a glare, before turning back to Jeongin with a smile.

"Nothing. Come on, let's go to the karaoke."

Jeongin clearly doesn't believe it, but when you hold your hand out, he takes it and follows wherever you drag him to.

It's only when it's late at night and you've all exhausted yourselves playing games that it gets brought up again. You're all hanging around in the parking lot of some convenience store. The other boys are gathered around Minho's truck, fighting for snacks and prizes won at the arcade. You and Jeongin sit on the sidewalk and make fun of them.

"Minho hyung already has that keychain at home. Why does he want it so bad?"

You snort. "He wants it because Seungmin and Jisung want it. Who is he if he doesn't annoy his dongsaengs."

Jeongin laughs at that, leaning into you as he does so. You grin and gently bonk your head against his.

He makes a noise at that, looking up. You hadn't pulled away by then, so the action has you and Jeongin merely inches from each other.

He was so close you could count his lashes. You swallow as his gaze drop down to your lips. Hope is a flame that ignites in your chest again, expecting, but it gets extinguished when Jeongin looks away with a clear of his throat.

Your shoulders slump. The words are out before you can stop them. "Do you hate me?"

"Huh?" Jeongin's gaze snaps back to you, eyes wide in confusion. You falter. "Y/N, what are you talking about?"

God, you sound ridiculous. You knew you were being ridiculous. But you've already started and you couldn't find it in you to turn back. Fuck it, you think. You can lose a little dignity for a Jeongin kiss.

"You won't kiss me." You finally say, and Jeongin gapes, looking stunned, so you just start to ramble. "It's- do you not want to kiss me? I think you do, because I see you looking at my lips, like now, but then you turn away, and it's just- do you not want me? Not that kissing is a basis in our relationship, I wouldn't break up with you over this. I'd love you even if you never ever kiss me. But I just kind of want to know why you do-"

You ramble and you ramble and at that point you thought that nothing in the world could stop you from talking, until a hand cups your cheek and soft, plush lips are against yours. You immediately shut the fuck up.

Jeongin is kissing you.

He's kissing you, and you aren't kissing back because you're too shocked and shit, he's pulling away and-

"Wait, no, come back-" you gasp, chasing Jeongin's lips. "I wasn't ready, asshole, kiss me again-"

So with a laugh, Jeongin does, and you finally get your brain working enough to slide your lips against his. You can feel him smile against your lips. You weren't sure how you were still kissing, honestly, considering the two of you were grinning like idiots.

But alas, you needed air to breathe, and with a reluctant whine, you both pull away. Jeongin exhales shakily and presses his forehead against yours.

"I don't hate you." He grumbles, and you smile sheepishly. "I love you so mich my heart feels like it's about to explode every time I see you. Just the thought of kissing you got me so nervous that I-" he sighs. "I'm sorry I made you think that."

"No, no, don't. I was just being stupid. I know you love me, I swear. Being deprived of your kisses just made me insane."

Jeongin chuckles, bringing you in for another kiss. But before your lips could touch, a gasp startles the both of you apart.

Jisung. "This is a public space. There are kids around this area. You're a kid!"

Jeongin groans and hides his face in your shoulder. You turn red up to the tips of your ears.

"Gross," Minho says, but there's a cheesy smile on his face. "Here. As celebration of your first kiss, you can have this ugly keychain."

Sewungmin frowns. "If the keychain is so ugly then why did you play rock, paper, scissors for it-"

You frown as wel. "How'd you know that was our-" You stop. You slowly turn to look at Chan, who was hiding behind Minho. "You-! You gossiped!"

"I did not!" Then, after a beat, Chan says, "See! I told you he doesn't hate you!"

You squawk, getting up to chase Chan, but Jeongin stops you with an arm around your waist a quick peck to your lips. You sit back down in a daze.

"Do you want to go chase him around or do you want to sit here and kiss me?"

Jeongin asks, and you scoff. In lieu of an answer, you lean down and kiss him.

He kisses back.

[hippolotamus]

Way More Than Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the lovely and talented @kitteneddiediaz @tizniz @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @inell @wikiangela Be sure to check their works!

IDK this has been rolling around in my brain since I first heard Casual. Sooo… 🦴 🍎 🦷

“C’mon, Luce,” Nat teases from the driver’s seat, poking Lucy’s thigh. “I play personal taxi and can’t even get a tour? Guess I need to up my game.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. Hopefully it’s more annoyed than fond. Honestly, Natalia could ask for a million things and Lucy would readily give them. At least, she wants to. She wants to want to. But that involves levels of vulnerability Lucy plans to keep locked up tighter than Diaz’s Catholic guilt.

“Your game’s fine, Dollenmeyer. I’ll show you around.” Lucy grabs her work bag and exits the car before Nat can gloat and kiss her about it.

Kinard and Thompson are chatting over coffee in the hangar, while Lee checks over the equipment in one of the birds.

“Well, if it isn’t my little ray of sunshine,” Kinard chirps, flashing his stupid, dazzling lovesick smile. God, Buckley’s got him so whipped. She’s happy for them but Jesus Christ. “And who do we have here?”

Tommy, ever the gentleman and charmer, takes Nat’s offered hand. “Tommy Kinard. One of Lucy’s favorite teammates,” he says with a wink.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about you!”

“This is Nat. Natalia,” Lucy interjects. “We were hanging out and she very nicely agreed to drop me off since my car’s in the shop.”

Beside her, Nat stiffens. Tommy raises an eyebrow, shooting a knowing look at Lucy.

This. This is why she tried to resist Nat’s offer and insisted an Uber would be fine. Because Lucy knows she’s fucked up. Knew she would before it happened. What’s worse is Tommy knows — or highly suspects — she fucked up. He was in the closet too long, and with too many shitty partners, to not see right through her. He’s going to give her hell about this.

“Uh, yeah,” Nat agrees, barely hiding the way her voice is trembling. She drops Tommy’s hand and clutches her purse tighter. “So, uh, gonna take a raincheck on that tour. Maybe another time. Nice to meet you.”

Nat doesn’t run back to the car but she may as well. She doesn’t look at Lucy once. Not with anger or sadness or disappointment. Not at all. Lucy bites the inside of her cheek and watches her go despite the desperate clawing thing in her chest that wants Nat to stay. Now. Forever maybe.

She hikes her bag up on her shoulder, turning to walk toward the locker room, only to be met with Tommy still there. His arms are crossed and he doesn’t look at her with any judgement. It would be better than the almost pitying, understanding expression he’s wearing.

“What, Kinard?” She bites out, staring past him. “I have to change for my shift. Just- say it already.”

He watches her a moment longer, rolling his lips in, assessing. “Do I even have to?”

“I have to change for my shift,” she says again, biting her bottom lip, hard. Because she’s not going to get upset about this now. Just like she’s not going to think about waking up this morning, for the very first time, to Nat sleeping beside her, hair sprawled across the pillow while sunlight painted her bare back. How it made Lucy ache.

Tommy sidesteps, making a sweeping gesture to let her know she’s free to go anytime. She nods tightly, unable to meet his gaze as she passes.

“Y’know, I kinda wanted to hate her,” Tommy starts. Because he’s a bastard that way. She hates him. Hates him so fucking much for it that she loves him for being so goddamn forgiving and thought provoking. She swears he went to the Bobby Nash School of Life Advice and Mentoring.

She stops, but doesn’t turn around.

“Evan said nice things about her. Decent things anyway. Admittedly, I wasn’t crazy about why she was into him. But he didn’t have anything terrible. Being his first- I felt a little nervous and wanted to find something. Anything about the people in his past. You know how it can be with exes. Gets messy sometimes.” He pauses, probably sipping his lukewarm coffee. “And then they just- I don’t know, surprise the hell out of you in an unexpected way.” Another pause. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold you up anymore.”

His footsteps echo across the hangar, growing quieter. Lucy tightens her death grip on her bag and marches to the locker room. When she gets there, if she turns on the showers so she can cry in peace, that’s between her and the ancient tile and god.

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @daffi-990 @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @dorkydiaz @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @shipperqueen6 and anyone else who wants to 😘

[absurdthirst]

Sleep Tight {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Minors and dirty magazines, only one sleeping bad troupe, masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, SPOILERS for TLOU Episode 1 x 04

Comments: Fucking Joel in that sleeping bag, that's the summary.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

gif by @pedropascalsx

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Hey, quit kicking back there.” You huff, rolling your eyes as you look back at the teenager in the back seat. She was a little too excited about her first day in the car and after a few hours, she had wanted to swap seats, coinciding with the first of multiple pitstops. Gas just didn’t go as far as it used to. 

Ellie rolls her eyes and huffs, leaning back in the seat and crossing her arms as she stares out the window. “I have to pee.” She huffs, making Joel groan again and let out a long suffering sigh even though it’s only been four hours.

“There’s a rest stop up ahead.” He grunts after another mile. “We’ll stop there and you can pee while we try to find some more gas.” He looks over at you for a moment, before glancing back at the road. You know he’s irritated by the fact that you aren’t getting farther than you would have back when gas was fresh. It’s taking longer to get to Wyoming than he would like, leaving you exposed out on the road. 

When Joel pulls over into the rest area, he immediately grabs his hose and gets to work siphoning some gas from the abandoned cars. It’s like water now, nowhere near as potent as it used to be, but it gets you somewhere. Ellie disappears and comes back with a joke book. “Volume Too.” She points out and you snort, looking over at Joel who rolls his eyes. Ellie starts to read out a joke and you bite your lip to smother your chuckle. 

“Jesus Christ.” Joel grunts, struggling to stand after kneeling down.

You hum and walk back over to the truck. “Did you pee?” You ask, opening the passenger door to the truck and pushing the seat forward.

“I did, did you?” Ellie asks, smirking slightly in the way that only smart ass teenagers can. 

“I don’t have the bladder of a thirteen year old.” You snort, watching her climb into the back before you slide the seat back and climb inside the cab. Watching as Joel secures the gas can and gets into the driver's seat. “Let me know when you want me to drive.” You offer again, knowing he will turn you down, again.

“I’m fine.” Joel says, getting back into the car. He starts the engine and pulls away from the rest stop. You sigh and look out of the window. 

“Must’ve been some trick.” Ellie says as she looks out of the back window. 

“Yeah they used to stick big ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such.” Joel explains and Ellie grins, “I wanna see a tank.” 

You look back at her, “you will.” 

Joel nods, “tank, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.” 

Ellie fumbles, reaching into her backpack and pulls out a tape. “I got something.” She hands it to you and you show it to Joel, “here. This make you all nostalgic?” You ask Joel who snorts, “this is actually before my time.” 

Ellie settles back in her seat, “great.” 

You sigh, “it’s a winner, though.” 

Joel nods and you put the tape into the player. Joel smiles, shaking his head as he drives along to the music. “Oh man.” He sighs and you smile at him. 

Ellie rummages in her backpack again, pulling out a magazine, “got something else”. 

“What is that?” You ask, eyes wide and you nudge Joel and he looks in the rear view. 

“It’s light on the reading but it has some interesting pictures.” 

You watch Joel’s face, “no, no, no, put that back.” Ellie opens another page while Joel says, “that’s not for kids.” 

You try to reach for it but she pulls it back, “how would he even walk around with that thing?” 

You snort, reaching again, “please get rid of it.” Joel begs and Ellie shakes her head, “hold your horses. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” Ellie looks at you then Joel, knowing exactly what your relationship entails. 

“I’ll take it.” You tease and Joel’s eyes widen, “no you will not.” 

You giggle and Ellie grimaces, “why are all these pages stuck together.” 

Joel’s face is shocked, “uhhhhhh. The—” Ellie whacks his shoulder with the magazine, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” She tosses it out of the window with a “bye bye dude.” 

You pout, “I kinda wanted that.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, focusing on the driving. “Ain’t I enough for you, sweetheart?” He teases but his eyes are serious.

“If he’s got one like that, I don’t know how you do it.” Ellie huffs, and you smother your giggle since it looks like Joel is about to have a stroke. 

“I’m going to decline to comment, but yes, you’re enough.” You promise Joel, mollifying him slightly. 

“Okay, we’re done talkin’.” He huffs, looking in the rear view mirror. “Let’s play the quiet game.” 

Ellie wrinkles her nose, obviously not happy with that option but she turns her head to look out at the surrounding landscape. Sighing, you reach over and touch his hand, smiling at him slightly when he looks at you. The thing with Joel was both easy and complicated. Easy because you never defined anything and complicated because you never know where you stand with him. You think that he cares for you, in his own way but it’s not like you’ve had conversations about feelings.

You look out at the scenery, abandoned cars. FedEx trucks in a depo that sit empty, ransacked not long after shit went down. The train hanging off of the bridge. The abandoned tanks. It’s eery and reminds you of the harsh reality of this world. Joel notices how quiet you get, Ellie is napping on the backseat. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” You check and he shakes his head, “gonna stop soon. It’s getting late and I wanna be parked up before bedtime.”

It’s only about ten more minutes before Joel decides he’s done. “That’s enough for today.” He slows down and pulls off the Highway into a large field. Jolting Ellie awake as the truck bounces through the grass as he heads for the forest on the other side. You know why he is pulling away from the road but you don’t say anything as he starts to drive through the trees, making sure that you are well away from the road before he stops the truck. “Well, I’ll start unloading supplies.” You offer, knowing he probably needs to stretch his legs and take a piss after driving for so long. “Why don’t you walk around?”

Joel nods, knowing he needs to check out the area for any clickers or dangers. “Get the steak out for tonight.” He orders, knowing you’ll need energy for tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow brings? If there’s one thing Joel lives by, it’s eat the damn steak. He hears you talking to Ellie as he strides through the trees, eventually feeling safe enough to pull his dick out to take a piss. He sighs in relief and leans against the tree, ears open for anything moving around. When he makes his way back, he sees Ellie reading that damn joke book again and you are opening the portable stove. “Everything alright?” He asks you, setting the gun down as he helps you open the ancient can of Chef Boyardee

“Yeah.” You take the can and sniff it, nodding when it smells good. Amazing how it hadn’t gone back, and you don’t want to think about how many preservatives had to be in it for such a thing. “We are having steak with a side of the finest Chef this side of the Mississippi.” You joke as you dump it into a pan and start opening the next one. “Find anything out there?” You lower your voice slightly and glance over at him, not wanting Ellie to overhear and worry. Your job was to help him protect the girl and you were slightly softer than Joel, but both of you didn’t want her to fear for her safety until it was necessary. She’s still just a kid. 

Joel shakes his head, kneeling down beside you to place his hand on your lower back, the only indication that he is emotionally connected to you. He helps, stirring the ravioli and he looks over at Ellie.

You can’t help but lean into the warmth of his hand. It’s been a difficult few days and while Joel isn’t overly affectionate at the best of times, you are enjoying the feeling of his hand on your body. The small steaks are next, another pan ready and you sigh softly. “Just a weekend getaway.” You joke, “camping in the woods. All we need is a cooler full of ice cold beer.” Those things seem like a dream and you know that this isn’t a fun weekend bonfire in the woods. The sun is starting to set and soon you need to get the bedding out of the truck after cleaning up from dinner. 

Joel watches you finish the meal and he sighs, wishing this was a camping trip and nothing more. Yet it isn’t. It’s deadly and dangerous and he wishes he could keep you and Ellie safe but it’s going to be a challenge. When you get the dinner served up, Joel watches Ellie wolf it down and tells her to slow it down. You snort in amusement and Joel rolls his eyes at the teenager.

“What am I even eating?” She asks between bites. 

“That is 20 year old Chef Boyardee ravioli.” He tells her, cutting up his own small steak and you smirk when she shoves another large bite in her mouth. 

“That guy was good.” 

Joel grunts. “I actually agree.” You do too, but hunger has a way of making a lot of things taste good. 

Ellie looks over at you for a moment. “How long are we staying out here?” 

Knowing Joel, it will just be for the night, he doesn’t like to stay in one place for long when he is outside the QZ. “I figure I sleep tonight, and drive tomorrow all day.” He glances over at you. “And let her drive all night and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.” 

You nod, agreeing with that idea, although if he doesn’t sleep, you’ll drive in the morning and let him crash in the passenger seat. Ellie scoops up some more of her ravioli. “So can we start a fire? I’m freezing.” It is cold out here, but there is no way Joel will allow a fire. 

Joel’s head shoots up from his plate. “Now why I am gonna tell you no?” He demands like he’s talking to his daughter about dating or staying out past curfew. 

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Because the infected will see the smoke.” She huffs, shoving another bite in her mouth. 

“No.” Joel insists. “Fungus isn’t that smart.” 

You nod. “It’s too remote for infected anyway.” You add on, knowing what Joel is worried about. 

That gets Ellie’s attention. “People?” Neither you nor Joel answers but the look he gives her is answer enough. “So what are they going to do? Rob us?” She asks next, full of questions because she’s never experienced the horrors outside FEDRAs control. 

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that.” His look turns dark and you shiver, he would know first hand what some of these people were after and you want to forget what men are capable of. 

Ellie seems to get the message and she swallows slightly. “Okay….” 

Joel knows that it would be devastating for you to end up with others. You’re pretty, gorgeous, and he knows that you would be- well, he will fight to the death to protect you and ensure that that would never happen. You finish your meal in silence, fork scraping the metal and eventually the food is put away and Joel is double checking the perimeter while you gather the sleeping bags. 

“We have a problem.” You tell Joel and he turns to look at you, “what is it?”

You hold up one of the three sleeping bags that had been packed in the back of the truck under a tarp. You hadn’t unrolled it before now. “This sleeping bag is ruined.” You tell him, showing the large urine and rodent droppings, as well as the obvious destruction of the material. 

Ellie unrolls hers and picks it up to sniff it. “Mine actually smells kinda good.” She informs you, making you roll your eyes. 

“Well that would be Frank’s then.” Joel tells her, making her laugh quietly. 

You sigh and drop the ruined bedding to the ground. “What do you want to do?” You ask Joel. 

Joel sighs, annoyed by the fact that there’s one less sleeping bag. “We can share it. You and I. Ellie gets her own.” Joel says and grabs his rifle, ready to ensure that you and Ellie are safe, even if it means not getting any sleep himself. “Are you tired?” He asks Ellie, gesturing for you to get into the sleeping bag.

Ellie smirks at Joel and waggles her brows. “Of course you want me to go to sleep.” She teases, making him roll his eyes and shuffle uncomfortably. 

“Get in the fucking sleeping bag.” He grunts at her and it makes you snicker quietly as you spread out the other sleeping back you will have to share with him. You know he will put you in the innermost part of the bag so he can get out quickly so you don’t hesitate to go ahead and climb in. Ellie pulls out her book and while Joel grunts again as he kneels down next to the sleeping bag, she turns down the lamp that was set between the two bags.

Joel is hesitant to share a sleeping bag with you, knowing that he wants to be able to move at a moment's notice. Also, the ribbing from Ellie has him rolling his eyes. Another part of him wants to hold you tonight.

“Come on.” You order and Joel shifts to get in beside you after checking his rifle. 

Ellie tries to tell Joel a joke, but he already knows the punchline. “Because he was outstanding in his field.” Joel replies, and Ellie claims that he has already read the joke book. You snort and laugh and Joel smiles to himself, but he’s turned away from you so you and Ellie can’t see. 

“Get some sleep.” He says again and turns to pull you into his arms.

It’s a tight fit in the sleeping back with both of you, making you wiggle slightly and push your ass against his groin. Joel grunts in your ear and you hum. “Sorry.” You whisper, aware that he is trying to fall asleep. Of the two of you, he’s the one that barely moves unless prompted at night.

Joel doesn’t respond, trying to close his eyes and not think about how you feel pressed against him. It’s been a while since you slept together. It was before leaving the QZ and Joel wants you to get some sleep. You wiggle against him again, trying to get comfortable and he grunts. “You gotta stay still.” He demands gruffly in your ear.

“Sorry.” You close your eyes and try not to think about the warmth and weight of him behind you. Although you flatten yourself out to give him more room and he follows you, pressed right up against your ass and you feel the bulge of his cock even though he’s not even hard.

His hand comes to your hip, trying to keep you still but his body still reacts to yours. His cock hardens and he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way his body needs you. You’re so warm against him, he knows how hot you are when he’s inside of you and he curses himself internally for thinking like that. “Get some sleep.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you but his fingers caress your hip, slipping under your shirt to touch your skin.

Biting your lip, you try to not move. It’s hard when you feel his fingers on your skin, hot and rough from the callouses. Instinctively, you rock back just the slightest amount, pressing your ass against his cock more firmly, the handy excuse that you are getting comfortable. It’s been too long since you’ve had him inside you, the fear and sorrow and danger not allowing it. Now, you just want to feel normal for twenty minutes.

Joel can sense what you want. He knows you inside and out by now. It’s too risky though. You’re in the open. The kid is a few feet away. He can’t risk being lost inside of you and not paying attention to what’s around him. “Behave.” He growls into your ear, “or take care of yourself.” He demands, flicking the button of your jeans. You get excited but he pulls his hand away, “I’m not fuckin’ you so you better take care of yourself, baby.”

You pout, sighing in disappointment, but you don’t hesitate to unzip your jeans and slide your hand into your panties. You’d rather have Joel’s cock inside you or his fingers on your clit, but you’re not going to bed. “Probably jerked off in the trees.” You huff quietly, pressing the pad of your index finger against your clit and moaning softly.

Joel doesn’t respond, deciding to just press against you. “You can feel how hard I am. Feel like I jerked off thirty minutes ago?” He scoffs, “I’m too fuckin’ old, baby.” He rolls his eyes and reaches up to squeeze your breast.

Closing your eyes, you push your ass back against him again, grinding slightly. He is getting older but that doesn’t mean he can’t fuck you like he’s still young when he wants to. It just means that his recovery time is longer. You circle your clit and start rubbing it quickly, wanting to cum before you go to sleep. “St-still can get it up.” You murmur quietly. “Still good.”

He chuckles, burying his face in your neck to breathe you in so he can hear your whimpers while you try to keep quiet. He loves it. “Fuck baby. You sound so sweet.” He rasps into your ear, “rubbing that little clit like that. Feel good?”

You know that it’s risky, that Ellie could hear or someone could sneak up but you think that the first option is more likely. Especially as remote as you are. “Y-you’re b-better.” You admit breathlessly, your cunt clenching and your hips rocking slightly to chase the pressure.

He snorts when you say he’s better. His cock is hard and he is desperate to touch himself, touch you, but he can’t risk it. His ears are honed in on the surrounding while you bite your lip to smother your whimpers. “You need fingers inside of you?” Joel asks, knowing he can help you if you need him.

“Fuck yes.” You moan quietly, eyes rolling at the thought of his thick fingers curled up inside you. He always manages to press against your g-spot perfectly. It makes sense due to knowing your body as well as he does. He chuckles quietly against your ear and squeezes your tit once more before he slides his hand across your tummy and into your panties where you are still rubbing your clit.

He presses your hand against your clit, almost unable to move your fingers, and he pushes two of his thick digits inside of you, curling them. “That better?” He whispers, pumping them in and out of you and groaning softly at how wet you are.

His cock would be so much better but you whimper your agreement. Loving how immediate your reaction is to him and the arousal floods his fingers. You push back, wanting his fingers deeper inside you and twist your head so you can kiss under his chin and along his jaw.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, biting down on your earlobe. “Always so good for me.” He grunts, working his fingers inside of you, pressing his palm into your hand to force you to rub your clit a little faster. “I need you to cum for me. Clench around my fingers.”

“Joel.” You whine softly, rolling your hips down against his hand. You want him inside you. You want him to roll you onto your stomach and push your jeans down, pull out his achingly hard cock and fuck you into the hard, forest floor. “Fuck,” you feel your walls start to flutter, body tensing up to cum as he curls his fingers and yours rub your clit.

Joel turns your head to press his lips to yours, wanting you to be quiet, to not wake Ellie. You cry into his mouth, smothered and muted, while your walls clamp down on his fingers, soaking them, and it ignites something inside of him. He pulls his fingers out of you, pushing you onto your back and it’s tight but he manages to push your jeans down to your knees, fumbling with one hand to open his pants and he pulls his hard cock out. “Need you.” He grunts, pushing inside of you while you are still shaking from your orgasm.

Your hands curl into Joel’s shoulders, biting down on your lip to smother your moan at his intrusion. It’s so good, having him fill you up like nothing else can. You can fill him twitch inside you and you whimper. “Fuck me.” You beg quietly, knowing it will be quick and rough.

He groans softly, pressing his lips against yours and sliding his tongue into your mouth so he can start to fuck you. He grinds deep, barely pulling out of you as he rocks his hips. Reassured that you’re beneath him. After losing Tess, losing Bill and Frank. He’s on the edge, desperate, not his usual self. Too many people have died, left him, and he won’t let you join that list.

Ellie snorts, shuffling in her sleeping back and Joel freezes inside you. Both of you listen for any other movement or indication that she’s waking up. The silence ticks by and Joel’s cock is throbbing inside you at the same beat of his heart, making your cunt clench around him. You exhale softly, relaxing when Joel starts to move again. Kissing him desperately in order to recapture the moment.

He is slow, grinding deep, and he allows himself this time to enjoy the fact that you’re here, in his arms, and alive. “Fuck baby.” He grunts into your mouth, loving how wet and hot you are around him. You both listen for Ellie, making sure she doesn’t wake up, and the sleeping bag doesn’t allow for a lot of movement.

It’s easy to forget everything when Joel is deep inside you. The slow grind of his hips keeps his cock buried deep and it’s like he’s making love to you. Whatever is between you isn’t defined and you won’t ask him to put a label on it. You just are, but you love this tempo.

He kisses you, keeping his mouth fused to yours to smother the way you cry out his name. Not wanting to wake the kid or alert anyone to your presence. His hands slide under you, gripping your shoulders to help him thrust a little harder inside of you.

Every gasp is poured into his mouth, urging him on. The thrusts aren’t sharper, but you love that he can push into you with a bit more force, making your walls flutter around him and the roughness of his jeans grinding against your clit. The fact that your jeans are pulled down but still on your legs only allows for you to take his pace, unable to wrap your legs around him and urge him on.

He wants you to cum, needs to feel it, so he pushes deeper inside of you, thrusting a little harder, and he groans your name into your ear, shifting one arm out from under you to cover your mouth with his palm.

Joel being vocal always does it for you. That gravely, raspy voice sounding wrecked makes your cunt lock down around him as your core twists even more until you are gasping his name against his palm. Shaking underneath him as you come apart in perfect, shattering pleasure.

Joel hisses your name, loving how you feel clamping down around his cock, and he hisses your name again, pushing deep a half a dozen times until he’s spilling inside of you. Thanking God for the umpteenth time that he got a vasectomy after Sarah was six and he and his ex had decided against having more kids. “Fuck.” He pants, kissing your forehead then he pulls his palm away from your mouth. 

You hum quietly, aware that this isn’t the safety of your apartment in the Boston QZ. He can’t sleep inside you or just lay here basking in the afterglow for too long. You kiss his lips and along his jaw before he shuffles to the side, both of you trying to put yourself back to rights under the cover of the sleeping bag. “You actually gonna sleep?” You as Joel as you pull your panties and jeans up.

Joel shifts to the side, tucking himself away, and he offers you a look, knowing that you know he won’t sleep. He never does when he’s on the road. “You get some sleep.” He orders, kissing your forehead and he shuffles out of the sleeping bag, grabbing his rifle. He will keep watch tonight over you and Ellie. It’s his job to keep you both safe and he’ll be damned if he fails. He’s lost everyone but he won’t lose you. He will keep you and Ellie safe, even if it’s the last thing he does.

You shuffle slightly, turning so you can see Joel as he stands guard, eyes ever watchful for any approaching danger. You sigh slightly and close your eyes. You’ll let him sleep while you take the first shift driving tomorrow morning. And make some coffee for him to drink. He would like that. For now, you drift off to sleep, feeling protected since you know he is watching.

[arcsin27]

Reviewing all the stories in junji ito maniac because I can, fuck you :)

The strange hikizuri siblings - uhh okay. Not scary nothing even happened. Okay a guy was a jealous simp, little kids are just like that, some guy threw up bread dough ig, then a ghost stared at everyone for a while and dipped the end

The story of the mysterious tunnel - Jesus Christ that was pretty spooky what the hell. Lost my marbles when he assumed the drop was water, and the kid in the ceiling fucked me up with her voice (dub) and screams

Ice cream bus - im never eating ice cream again. Jokingly compared the driver to William afton fnaf in the beginning but he was somehow worse. The dad pushing the kid away jumpscared me, then horrified me, and I needed a break from the show

Hanging balloon - so absurd it was kinda funny. The nonlinear storytelling added a bit if spook as I slowly realized who was at the window but idk the concept was just funny to me. Also I was so happy someone finally showed up to a horror plot strapped until I saw the result. Sorry random Chad with a crossbow, wish you coulda helped…

Four x four walls - thought something horrific would happen outside and he wouldn’t hear it but it didn’t, thought soichi was famous for being scary but he wasnt, I think this was like a comic relief in episode form. No spook, kinda funny

The sandman’s lair - *laughs nervously* what the fuck. No clue what happened, why would you tape yourselves like that, let me see his dream form damnit, the nature of humanity is we reinvent homestuck etc

Intruder - these kids are based tbh. Balls of steel, don’t blame the redhead, just move on with their lives

Long hair in the attic - also based, i had wondered where her head had gone but i shoulda known by the title, that grinding sound pissed me off tho

Mold - thank. God. It was in black and white. I choose to believe its dust. Also idc about culture or taboo if your floor is coated in inches of ropes and pools of mold just wear your damn shoes. Jesus Christ

Library vision - this one felt like it was calling out all of my anxieties about losing the things and memories precious to me. Also 10/10 Sean chiplock that final recital of hell of thorns was incredible and spooky. Also what the fuck was the ending

Tomb town - im never driving again. Also just call the cops surely you get a reduced sentence for actually reporting the crime. Other than that not scary lol

Layers of terror - im never picking my skin again. god ALMIGHTY why did i bear witness to this. Fuck that mom bro she sucks. I was thinking about how the proportions of human anatomy change as you age and how a toddler with such short limbs and a thick torso could fit inside an adult but uh… then they answered my question. And then it got worse. Funnily enough the 2yo looked like a monster id design

The thing that drifted ashore - was this supposed to be scary…? Oh boy they turned into fish people and promptly fucked off good for them ig

Tomie • photo - wow what bitches lmfao. Idk why she has a face growing out of her scalp hut I didn’t need to see the removal process. Or how botched the removal process was. Based that the photographer just fuckin moved on. “Damnit the blood ruined my pictures :/“ incredible.

Unendurable labyrinth - probably woulda been scarier if they were lost for longer but to me it looked like they took five steps, found the brother, seven steps, “aaaah we’re lost,” two steps, “theyre looking at me!” then suddenly the mummies have eyes, fade to black. Cool

The bully - I was sooo ready for retribution, then I got reconciliation and got even happier, then it turned into child abuse and I wanted to kill a bitch

Alley - pfft idk if its based that she killed those kids or not but it was extra based that they got revenge on her lmao shoulda brought a ladder bro

Headless statue - Jesus fuck that’s gross. Stop it. Also smash the statues again it worked brilliantly earlier. Or maybe jump out a window idk

Whispering woman - mega based. The nervous girl gains support and confidence, the attendant is freed from her abusive friend, the abusive friend gets violently killed, its just wins all around

Soichi’s beloved pet - once again a comic relief episode but tbh it was pretty funny, soichi was a lot less hateable this time too!

[strawbrygashez]

Postal 1 Dude x Postal 4 Dude

Dead Or Alive

🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️ zombie time! I was thinking about how P1 didn’t have to deal with a apocalypse while the other did sooooo that’s where this idea came from :3 I hope u like it & sorry for any mistakes 🧟‍♀️ (Not sure if I want this to be a stand alone fic uhh 🤷‍♀️tell me if u all want a continuation!)

————————————————————————

Jesus fucking christ. How many Oreo flavors did there really have to be? Dude often tried his best to distance himself from the ‘back in my day’ old people crowd but at times like this, he couldn’t help but to shake his head and think about how back when he was growing up, they’d only really had your basic flavors of cookies and if you didn’t like it, too bad. A thought that really showed his age also came to mind that was along the lines of, ‘now if they’d put as much effort into fixing actual problems as much as they do making all these weird Oreo flavors…’ But, his old man thoughts were cut off by his phone blaring some obnoxiously loud 90s metal song. Quickly moving his grocery list into his other hand, he dug for his phone in his robe pocket and seeing that it was his boyfriend, he accepted the call and placed the phone between his shoulder and side of his head.

“Hey princess.” He greeted, giving little thought to the only other person in the isle who was giving him a mean glance.

“Dude? Hello? Where are you?” His boyfriend asked with a clearly panicked tone in his voice. Not being new to the other having panic attacks or him being worried about Dudes safety, he wasn’t caught too off guard. “I’m at the store babe. Remember I said I was getting groceries on my way back home? I’ll be there soon. Is there anything I-” the sound of being hung up on muffled the end of his sentence. Okay now that was a little strange…he tried calling back again but was only soon met with the voice mail message. Raising a eyebrow, he placed his phone back into his pocket after sending him a text asking if he was alright. Maybe he just wanted to be assured by the fact Dude was still in-fact alive? Or something like that. That still wouldn’t make much sense with why he hung up so quickly though but again, it wasn’t too odd. He’d just have to hurry along and remind him to take his meds once he gets back.

-

After a little bit longer of shopping (and deciding to just go with mega stuffed Oreos) Dude was finally ready to make his way over to check out when all of the sudden, the sound of tires screeching caught his and other shoppers attention. Man there was some bad drivers in this town. He wasn’t even really sure why those kinds of sounds got his attention still after living here for so long but whatever. Shrugging it off, he made it about half way to the check out line when the sound of heavy footsteps running towards him made him look up.

Before Dude could even understand what was going on, a pair of arms wrapped around him tightly and someone was pressed up against him in a hug. It didn’t take him long to piece together who was latching onto him though once he saw that firey red long hair he loved so much. He gave a confused grin as he wrapped his free arm around him, again not giving the people who gave them odd looks much thought.

“Uhm…Hey Babe. What are you doin’ here?” The older of the two asked.

The other didn’t answer at first, instead he’d decided to hold onto the older man a bit longer, appreciating the warmth of his body and that he he seemed as healthy and ‘normal’ as ever…though, he didn’t get a good look at him while he was running up. So, he pulled back and began to pull Dudes robe down his shoulders. “Uh..What are you doing?” Dude asked with a chuckle at the other Dudes behavior. “Checking.” He simply replied before fixing Dudes robe and then inspecting his lower arms, wrists, and even gave a glance down to his legs before finally grabbing a hold of Dudes face.

Dude felt his face burn a bit at this. “For what?” He asked under his boyfriends gaze. The younger Dude lifted up the others sunglasses, looking at him dead in the eyes for a bit before seeming satisfied, fixing his glasses and letting him go. “Bites. You won’t believe me but this time, people are really sick. They are basically literal zombies! It was on the news and..and I-” talking about it made him start panicking again. Now instead of the abrasive, protective aura he was giving off just a bit ago, it was replaced by a anxious one as he wrung his hands together as his expression dropped. “Yeah I know.” Dude replied.

The longer haired Dude froze. “You know? Then why are you out here?! You need to c-come home and maybe..I know it sounds like a lot but maybe we should leave this town..it’s spreading and I don’t want you hurt..” He was half expecting the other to refuse to just pack up and move like that, leaving a town that he’d grown accustomed to yet again but Dude surprisingly, nodded. “Yep. I’m right there with you on that.” He simply said before just walking again. The other stood in place for a moment, just watching him while a frown formed before deciding to follow. “Hey- why aren’t you more concerned? I think I literally saw a infected person on the way here! Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

The older Dude chuckled again as he reached a hand over into his boyfriends. “This ain’t my first rodeo with ‘zombies’ dollface. I’ve probably lived through like at least.. three outbreaks? I know what I’m doing. And I promise you and me won’t get hurt.” He assured him before leaning over and placing a kiss on the others cheek. The other Dude wanted to find it hard to believe what he was saying..but really couldn’t. He’s dating another version of himself for fucks sake, the fact a zombie apocalypse had happened multiple times to him shouldn’t surprise him..so instead he shook his head but kept following, running a thumb against his boyfriends knuckles. “I’m more worried about you than me..but seems like I don’t ‘need to’ I guess.” He joked with a small grin.

The older Dude tilted his head playfully. “D’aww! No, I appreciate it. I guess even though I’ve done this before, extra help isn’t bad… yknow I guess if I need a distraction I could use your ass as bait.” He joked back with a nudge. The other rolled his eyes. “Yeah and when your ass turns into a zombie..I’ll keep you alive still..I’ll just have you on a chain or something.” He joked back. Well..tried to joke at least because the face his boyfriend made at that made had him try to quickly explain he was just messing around..sometimes he hated how deadpanned he came across. His boyfriends face quickly changed to a shit eating grin once he fumbled while trying to explain. “Man you’re messed up.” He teased as they finally made it to the back of the line.

“No! I was just making a joke! I saw something like that on tv once.” He tried to explain with a frown. Dude just kept chuckling before kissing him on the side of his head. “Im just joking too weirdo. Don’t worry. I would love to be on a chain your holding..dead or alive.” He winked. His boyfriend groaned in ‘annoyance’ before deciding to get behind him in line and hide his face in Dudes shoulder while hugging him from behind..god he hoped the line wouldn’t take too long.

-

Soon they did come out with the groceries in hand as the longer haired Dude led the other to the truck he’d shown up in. “Thank fuck you brought the truck. My legs were starting to hurt.” Dude said as he started to climb in, tossing some bags onto the floor board. “Mm. I would have brought yknow..the whole trailer with so we could go ahead and leave but I wasn’t really sure how. So I just left Champ in the trailer for now.” The other Dude explained as he climbed into the drivers seat. “I see. I can get it ready when we get back.” Dude said, finally getting all the bags situated and closing the passenger door. He tossed a arm behind his boyfriend as he glanced around the parking lot. His eyes landed on what was definitely someone with the zombie disease making their way up near the stores entrance. Though it was probably better not to point it out to his already freaked out boyfriend, he couldn’t help the “Damn.” That left his mouth.

His boyfriend followed his gaze to see the infected person as well..maybe the old him would wanna go help and warn the people inside but..fuck it. He tried playing savior once and that didn’t go as well as he thought. All he needed was his boyfriend and their dog..so he just sighed and started up the car. “Hope they have some kinda security in there.” He mumbled as he backed out of the parking spot. “Mhm.. I’m sure they’ll be fine. They had a couple exits in that store. Plus most ‘zombies’ I’ve seen are slow. The security guard could probably get ‘em while still eating his donut.” His boyfriend just gave a sigh before grinning and pulling off.

[slutforelliealways]

Space Girl Pt: 3

Four ish months ago

Friday night and the bars were booming with college kids, Dina and Jesse had managed to drag you out of your rut and finally got you out of sweatpants.

“Cmon it’ll be so much fun!” Dina begged at the edge of your bed.

“D I really don’t feel like going to a bar and then having to drive you and Jesse home while you make out in my backseat drunk out of your minds!” You groan at the image.

“Jesse already has an Uber set up, you no longer have any excuses nor choices. Get the fuck up and put on the outfit I picked out for you! Now!” Dina yanks you up by your wrist and you don’t even bother protesting anymore, you’ve outsourced all excuses there’s nothing left so you simply get up and put on the clothes Dina picked out.

To be fair it was a great fit, a matching set, long sleeved crop top that cut right above your belly button (your favorite crop length) and matching tight pants. Both black with a pair of lavender platform sandals, you looked hot. “D i need to do my hair and makeup, can i at least meet you at the bar?” You poke at your face trying to find any excitement behind those tired eyes.

“Hair in a ponytail and we’ll bring your makeup in the car, let’s go dude it’s like a fucking party at the tipsy bison!” Dina started grabbing your makeup bag and you swiftly threw your hair up in a high pony, keeping your middle part visible it’s an important detail every hot girl knows.

“Okay ladies let’s go before the whole thing gets shut down for being too loud!” Jesse waves the two of you out of your apartment.

The car ride gave you plenty of time to do your makeup, you went simple but with a dark lipliner to give your face a pop. You finished off with a sparkly gloss and puckered your lips at Dina, “mwah! If Jesse wasn’t here you know I’d do you baby!” She winks at you from the front seat.

“Hey! Keep it in your pants D! Jesus you’re so gay!” He rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“Only for me Jess, Dina and I have been having an affair for much longer than you know.” You snicker and blow Dina a kiss.

“It’s true babe, I’m deeply in love with my baby girl in the backseat. I’m planning on leaving you soon to purse a future with her.” She smirks as Jesse rolls his eyes. Unfazed by your antics at this point.

“Alright you girls ready? It is time, to party, so hard!” The Uber pulled up right out front of the bar and your two lunatic friends jumped out immediately. You thanked the driver and handed him a cash tip before exiting the vehicle.

“Let’s do this”, you take a deep breath before entering. The atmosphere felt more like a club than the “casual” bar experience with some music your friends had assured you. Although you weren’t surprised by their downplay you huffed out and then allowed your buds to drag you inside.

Dina and Jesse had been downing drinks all night, she forced you to take at minimum four shots and a drink with her. After an hour standing at the bar the alcohol was kicking in, and you desperately needed to pee. You shoved your way through the crowds looking for the bathroom, whether it was the alcohol or the platforms we’ll never know but you stumbled. Hard. As you accepted your fate to have your face smash into the floor someone else had been eyeing you all night and caught you right as your forehead was an inch from meeting the floor. In one swoop of her arm you were brought back to your feet, you brushed your stray hairs back and caught your breath.

“Jesus christ I’m so sorry! The floors really got it out for me recently”, your chuckle stifled when you saw the broad and beautiful woman in front of you. Abby. Fucking. Anderson. “Ab- I mean hey.” You chuckle again awkwardly.

“You okay? Took quite a tumble there.” She looks at you concerned.

“I almost did but you caught me so”, you shot finger guns at her and immediately regretted it. “Sorry I don’t know why I did that. I get nervous around hot girls I guess.” You shoot her a pained smile remembering why you had headed in this direction in the first place. “Let me buy you a drink yeah? I just gotta pee and then I can meet you at the bar and I’ll get you whatever you want!”

“May I escort you to the restroom?” She smiled softly while gesturing to the big bathroom sign.

You grinned, “I mean yeah sure, i- if you want to yeah!” You were buzzed and crushing already so hard. She guided you by your hips over to the ladies room, there wasn’t a line thank god!

“I’ll wait right out here for you okay?” Abby brushed you into the bathroom, she had noticed you were doing what she would later name as your “pee dance”. To which you’d reply i dont not have a pee dance!

You had an awesome pee and checked yourself out in the mirror, you were busy reapplying your lipliner when the door swung wide open and Dina came stumbling in. “Yo is that Abby fucking Anderson?” She squealed.

“It is indeed. Guess who she’s waiting for out there!” You squealed back.

“No way!”

“Way!” You waved your arms and she waved hers back.

“Dude you’re gonna get laid tonight for sure!” Dina humped the air and made a moaning face.

“I fucking hope so! I’ve been trying to get on that all year.” You huff.

“We’re like three months into the year that’s not a long time.” She says confused.

“It’s been three months too long! She’s studying to be a fucking doctor how hot is that?” You check your phone to see how long you’d been in there. “Shit! I gotta go she’s gonna think I’m blowing the toilet up or something. I’ll text you if we end up going back to my place! Love you baby!”

“Love you baby girl!” She blew you a kiss and you caught it and blew one back.

You ordered the drinks for you and Abby, before you had taken your cash out she had already had the bartender swiping her card. “Hey I was supposed to pay for that!”

“You’re having a drink with me finally, I think that’s payment enough for saving you!” She smirks as she sips her G&T.

“Finally?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah I mean, I guess I haven’t made any moves specifically but I figured after four borrowed pens you’d at least ask me out for coffee or something.” She raised an eyebrow back at you.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah don’t be mad but, I honestly just never have any pens.” You wince at the sentence.

“Damn okay! My heart hurts now, here I thought you were just checking me out.” She fakes chest pains and holds her chest.

“I’m fucking with you! I only go to the library on Tuesdays because I know you’ll be there. I always bring extra pens in case you need one but, you never need one.” You smile at her.

“Why not just ask me out instead?” She sips her drink.

“I told you. Hot girls make me nervous.” You wink.

“So what’s up with calling me Abby fucking Anderson?” She leaned in closer to you.

“Oh”, you chuckled nervously, “you heard that huh?”

“I did.” She smirked.

“It’s just a little nickname I guess, Dina threw it out first. It kind of stuck so now that’s what we call you. We could totally stop if you want!” Your cheeks felt warm but you stayed as confident as you could.

“I kind of like it. Makes me seem way cooler than I am.” She grabbed your hand, “so you gonna ask me to come home with you? Or do I need to take care of that too?”

You gulped, “did you want to come home with me tonight? Abby. Fucking. Anderson?” You leaned in closer and Abby met you with her lips.

You did end up taking Abby back to your place, and she stayed for a week after that. It was bliss, she got along with your friends. Dina would squeal about how you snagged her up finally, Jesse and her would bond over sports and who was the best whatever. Things were truly perfect, nothing could have ruined this!

Two ish months ago

You’d been sitting at your kitchen island waiting for Abby to finish her shower, once you heard the shower turn off you prepared yourself for your speech.

“Hey baby, why so serious?” She came out in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“Where is this heading?” You ask before you get distracted from her looks.

“I’m sorry?” She furrowed her brows and sat down next to you and reached for your hand.

“I mean where are we heading? I feel like after two months we should know where things are going. Do you want me around still or what?” You felt tears welling up and turned away to wipe them swiftly.

“Where is this coming from? I thought we were great.” She reached around and grabbed your chin softly to bring your gaze back to her.

“We are great, which is why it’s so confusing that you haven’t made any effort to move forward with this.. this relationship.” Your words kept getting caught in your throat and you started choking up.

“I just don’t want to rock the boat, things have been so steady. You make me feel safe and comfortable, i don’t want to fuck that up.” Her hands ran through her hair and she exhaled heavily.

“So, going steady for you means rocking the boat?” You questioned.

“I mean.. yeah I guess so.” She chuckled breathily. “Get dressed, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Right now?” You couldn’t hide the shock in your voice.

“Yes baby, right now. Go put something on!” She laughed as she shooed you to your room.

Abby took you to what became your guy’s spot, she parked in the lot and you stared out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful Abs, you take all your girls here?”

She chuckled, “no ma’am. Just you.”

“Hm yeah, sure.” You teased.

“I’m serious! My dad used to take me here when I was little, we’d get ice cream and watch the people surf. I always said I’d save it for someone special.” She brushed her fingers across your cheek.

“Must be pretty special to you then.” You leaned against her shoulder and she rested her head on yours.

“Yeah. Yeah I guess you are.” You saw a smile form on her face out of the corner of your eye.

A few weeks ago

“Why the fuck are we still on this huh!” Abby shouts from the living room.

“Because you failed to mention your little rendezvous while you were on vacation with your dad! Can i also go on dates with other women then or just you?” You shout from the bathroom.

“Jesus christ babe there was no rendezvous! She asked if I wanted a drink at a bar! I said yes, took the drink and left. That’s all that happened!” You heard her voice getting closer and a couple seconds later she was leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “I swear there was no date, you’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“Okay then, so if another woman offers me a drink I should take it?” You stop doing your mascara and turn to face her with your arms crossed.

“No!” She throws her arms up.

“Then why did you!” You throw your arms up mocking her.

“I don’t know! I’m sorry i just wasn’t thinking! Can we please move on from this!” She walked over toward you and you took a step back, “baby c’mon. Don’t be like this, forgive me so we can move past this.”

“Fuck off Abby! Go home, go anywhere honestly i don’t care. You’re such a fucking hypocrite and I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” You shove past her and go sit on the edge of your bed.

She followed you, “what did i do to you baby? Tell me please.” She coos at you.

“I’m so involved with you.” Her eye brow raised in confusion, “I mean like, I’ve gotten really attached.. to you.” You looked down at your hands.

“I see the problem”, she snickered, “this is pure jealousy isn’t it?”

“I mean yeah, wasn’t it obvious?” You chuckle and look up at her.

She tilted her head and leaned in and kissed your cheek, “eyes on you only. Okay? It was just a drink, that’s all.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious!” Her tone changed back to annoyed, “god why can’t you ever just let good enough be?” She stood up and started pacing the bedroom, “I mean Jesus babe! It’s like no matter what you just have to be mad at me! It’s exhausting! You are exhausting!”

“Get the fuck out!” You stood up and shoved her out of the bedroom.

“No wait hold on i misspoke!” She turned around to face you but you kept shoving.

“No, you didn’t. Please get out! Please!” Your voice broke and you couldn’t hold it together much longer. You swung the front door open and gave one final shove at her. “I’ll call you, later.”

“Please don’t do this I’m really sor-“ you slammed the door in her face and locked both locks.

“FUCK!”

Six days before the party

New message from Abs😍💕: I appreciate you hearing me out angel! Let me take you out to dinner on Friday.. you pick the place. Nothing is off the table <33!!!

You: It was nice seeing you lover, you know where I really want for dinner on Friday?

New message from Abs😍💕: Me?

You: Besides that!

New message from Abs😍💕: Tell me!

You: A fat fucking cheeseburger with a crisp beer🤤

New message from Abs😍💕: I gotchu baby. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, dress like you’ve got something to lose!

You: I always do for you <3

Friday

New message from Abs😍💕: Hey baby I’m so sorry but I’ve gotta cancel tonight, my dad wants to hangout and talk about something important. Swear I’ll make it up to you soon!

Present day

“I’ve always wanted you”, your lips were interlocked like air was in them and you both were suffocating. It was as if your lips had been begging for Ellie’s all this time. You gripped and yanked at her clothes and she dragged her tank top over her head in one swift move, you smirked at the sight of her bare chest and brushed your fingers across her nipples.

“Wait! You gotta show me your boobies too.” Ellie laughed so hard she snorted at her own remark.

“Way to keep the sexy vibe going.” You roll your eyes and laugh while removing your tank and your bra.

“Holy fuck.” Her eyes widen like she was mesmerized.

“What?” You wanted her to say it, so you played dumb.

“Not to be disrespectful but, you’ve got some nice fuckin boobs babe!” She smirked at you.

“Aw that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever told me!”

“I know I’m kind of a romantic of sorts.” She tucked a fake hair behind her ear and laughed.

“Do you, even wanna do this?” You question, you noticed it seemed like she was stalling.

“I do! But not right now? I kind of just wanna kiss you and like be all intimate and shit without sex? Is that lame?” She shy’s up and looks down at her hands.

“That sounds.. perfect!” Her head snaps up at your remark and she smiles a goofy tooth filled smile.

“Yeah?”

“Ellie I would love nothing more than to just kiss you and be all intimate and shit. I just have to make sure this is really because of that and not because you don’t want to have sex with me ever.” You bit the inside of your cheek in anticipation of her answer.

“Okay my love, let’s get one thing straight. I would love to fuck you absolutely stupid and taste you on my tongue, but I really don’t want to confuse your decision with sex.”

Pull it together don’t think about the tasting me and fucking me stupid comment! Listen! You cleared your throat, “yeah no totally. So respectful of you Ms. Williams. You want to watch like a movie or something while we kiss and gaze into each others eyes?”

“Only if I can pick the movie!” She jumped to her unofficial side of the bed and snagged the remote from your bedside table.

“If you fucking pick aliens in the attic again-“

“It’s an amazing piece of cinema. Ashley Tisdale in a corny alien movie? You don’t appreciate the arts enough, I might not kiss you and just force you to watch the movie instead.” She jokes as she turns on… aliens in the attic.

“Whatever”, you smile and roll your eyes, “I’ll just distract you with my lips how about that.”

“Come here.”

You felt it become hot between your legs again and you did your best to ignore it. It was just so hard when she flicked her fingers for you to move up and looked down at you with hazy, pink, and green eyes. You swallowed how horny she’d made you and crawled up slowly towards her, once she was able to reach you she pulled you up to her and nuzzled under her arm. It was the most comfortable you’d felt in a little while, her arm was wrapped under your neck and her other hand intertwined with yours. You did kiss and gaze into each others eyes all night, you also found a new appreciation for the corniest movie to exist.

3 1/2 months ago

“You wanna go to Mexico with me?”

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “What?”

“You heard me.” Abby chuckled, pulling herself up to face you. “Alvarez, you remember him?” You nod, “well he’s from Mexico and his wife wanted them to get married in his home country. It’s a week at the beach, warm tropical weather, bottomless drinks, and after two days of wedding shit I get you all to myself for five whole days.” She cups your cheek and tilts her head with a smile painted wide across her face. “Doesn’t that sound so amazing baby?”

“I- it definitely is tempting.” Your reaction wasn’t pleasing Abby’s ears clearly as she had pulled away from you.

“Oh.. I mean you don’t have to go.” She shuffled around the bed for her shirt to cover up.

“No no! I want to! I just, have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on and-“

“It’s during spring break! So you wouldn’t have any work! Please come with me, please!” She begs, forgetting about her shirt.

“Abby, my love.” You giggle, “we’ve been seeing each other for a couple weeks. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to take a trip together?” You question, smiling softly at her.

“It’s not until six months from now, so we’d have plenty of time together under our belt. At least consider it!”

You scratched you wrist for a couple of seconds while in deep thought, “fuck it, yeah I want to go to Mexico with you!”

“Yeah?” She jolted toward you grinning.

“Yes! Let’s be drunk and sunburned and crazy about each other for a week in a tropical paradise!” You launched into her lap and straddled her. She gripped your face and kissed you hard, you both smiled into the kiss and wrapped your arms around each other.

“I’ll order our plane tickets now then! The hotel is already taken care of graciously by Alvarez and his soon to be wife.” The blonde smiled from ear to ear as she tapped on her phone and made a very binding purchase.

The next morning after Ellie

New message from Abs😍💕: Hey so… I’ve still got you booked for our trip in a couple months. You obviously don’t have to go if you don’t want to but I think it would be good for us. I could always get a different hotel room if you want that. Just let me know whenever you can!

Ellie rolled her eyes reading the message, you were sound asleep next to her. Your face nuzzled into her chest and her arm wrapped under you, she smiled at the sight and almost forgot all about the text lingering on your Lock Screen. Why does she think it’s appropriate to even ask if you still wanted to go? Ellie huffed out and tried to fall back asleep only for it to fail, she reached for her phone and typed in an all too familiar phone number for a new text thread, this was either a good idea or a really fucking bad one. Her thumb hovered over the send button for a few seconds, fuck it!

New message from unknown number: Hey it’s Ellie. We should probably talk about her yeah? Seems we need to set some boundaries. Meet me at the tipsy bison tonight around 7:00. She’ll be at work and we can set some ground rules.

New message from Abby Anderson🤢🤮: Bold of you to reach out Williams. I assume you saw my message then?

New message from Ellie Williams😒: I saw it, my offer still stands. I’ll even pay for your drink.

New message from Abby Anderson🤢🤮: I think you should save your money, she’s got expensive taste. I’ll meet you there at 7:00 sharp.

Abby rolled over in her bed and took a deep breath, Ellie rolled over in your bed and exhaled heavily. You rolled over and began waking up, “good morning good lookin.” You groggily smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “You sleep okay?”

She nodded and kissed your lips, “better than ever!”

“I’ve got work today, shit actually what time is it? I got to run my classes start in 30 minutes! I’ll see you tonight okay, i work late so don’t wait up for me!” You jump out of bed and throw some clothes on and run your fingers through your hair. You blew Ellie a kiss goodbye and ran out the door.

“See you later, I’ve got stuff to do anyways.” Ellie whispered to herself as she watched you leave. She did have stuff to do, stuff that involved Abby fucking Anderson.

Authors note: Okay chapter 3 down in the books, do we like where the story is headed? Next chapter we’ll see the two love interests actually interact with each other which I personally am so excited about! Gonna try and create a master list for this series although I’m not too sure how to do that yet so don’t hold your breath for it! Okay loving you guys hope life is treating you all well!! See you next chapter! <3333

Tag list: @gold-dustwomxn

[damienstoker]

'i don't know how else to ask you.' - @5chmidt

ㅤㅤsilenced followed mike's words, the car radio rarely silenced as the request sunk into the musician's hazed subconscious. he thought this would be a simple drop off. oh, how he was sadly mistaken. already have eaten two edibles prior; damien had a hard time believing anything that was coming out of his companion's mouth. then again, he did make a deal with a demon and continuously get possessed to no end. normality was never in the cards for damien taylor. he was practically cursed to endure weird and life threatening shit. his fingers tapped the leather of his rental car's wheel. taking a moment to try and process it further. the sun was setting and mike's shift was about to begin. he had to answer eventually.

ㅤㅤhis lips parted as if he was going to speak; but, quickly shut as he kept his gaze fixated on the large freddy's sign. a scowl slowly formed on his face as he debated the pros and cons of the situation. he never had a chance to go to these types of places as a child and it would feel nice preventing deaths rather than causing them. damien sighed heavily, his toned back flopped heavily against the driver's seat with a thud.

ㅤㅤ"jesus fucking christ, dude." he finally exhaled after a minute of heavy contemplating. "sounds like a stupid fucking video game."

ㅤㅤdamien shook his head, biting down onto the flesh of his bottom lip. he avoided looking into mike's direction, knowing his reaction could have possibly hurt his feelings.

ㅤㅤ"𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 . . ." his hand reached to grab the keys out of the ignition, the engine no longer filling the silence between them. finally, he looked over at the security guard.

ㅤㅤ "have you thought about just quitting?"

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Conversation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 7661 (Don’t come at me - you guys asked for it)

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Fluff, Feelings, I Dunno What Else, This One’s Pretty Chill, Except The Ending, But You’ll See When You Get There

A/N: Here it is! I was hesitant about posting it because that means we’re getting closer to the end and I’m such a nostalgic bitch! I’m definitely gonna cry next week when the last episode comes out! Anyways, I’ve got a few things to talk about:

I think this is one of the most important chapters I’ve written and I’m excited to see your reactions to it. It is longer, but you guys asked for that, so you got it! Also, I’m loving the Asks, Comments, and Reblogs. I try to respond to all of them. I have work in a little bit, so I won’t be able to until after, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ask me anything; about my series, the show, any of the movies, personal stuff, I really don’t care. If you’re not comfortable, that’s totally fine! Every like means so much to me!

I know it’s not the end yet - we’ve got one more episode and a list of One Shots to get through - but there’s a definite feeling of this series coming to an end, and I just want to thank you all for the support and love you’ve been giving it! I’ve really enjoyed writing these characters and this story! It’s very, very special to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to share it with you lovely people!

On that note, be kind to yourselves and others! Thank you again for reading! Excuse any mistakes - this isn’t beta’d! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT! (Sorry for the gifs I just love them so much and he’s so pretty and this part is technically two parts so...you get four!)

“Louisiana.” Bucky hummed, looking around the airport.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything interesting about Louisiana in here, doofus. Let’s call an Uber.”

“An Ooper? What the hell is an Ooper?”

You giggled, shaking your head and grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the luggage carousel. “Uber. It’s like…a taxi service. But there’s an app on your phone to get a driver instead of waiting for one on the street.”

“Oh.” He blinked, tilting his head. “That’s…helpful.”

You laughed again, stopping in front of Carousel 3, where your flight from New York was assigned. You went back to New York to grab a bag with clean clothes and other necessities, along with taking a real shower for once. It was nice to be back in the States, as much as you loved traveling. It’d been a crazy few weeks and you were ready to just relax.

“Do you think there were any problems with Sammy’s present?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Especially considering they know who we are.”

You snickered at his slight grumble. They had had…problems at the other two airports - first the one in Sokovia then JFK in New York - considering Bucky’s entire arm was metal. It’d taken a full hour before they actually let you go, and by that time they had to give you a new plane because yours had left.

“Seriously. Who else has a fucking metal arm and has 1917 listed as their birth year on their Driver’s License?” You giggled again. That was also true. They thought he was messing with them. It wasn’t until you stepped in a few minutes after they asked Bucky to step to the side, seeing Bucky get frustrated, that they realized Bucky wasn’t pulling their legs.

“Well, we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded in agreement, watching for your bags, his hand finding yours when he realized how many people there were. “Do you know where he lives? I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He invited me over once. I declined, but I saved the address.”

“He…invited you over?” Bucky frowned.

You gave him a look. “I’m sure he invited you, too. You just never checked his texts.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Yeah, no, I know, but I mean…why didn’t you go? Weren’t you two just talking about how you wanted to meet his nephews the other day?”

“Yeah, but I had gotten a tip on Wanda at the time and I didn’t want to miss the chance that she was there. He told me it was fine. I still felt really bad. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. I think it was one of the boys’ birthdays. Or something. I don’t remember. Is that bad? Yeah, probably. I really should remember. Maybe I should keep track of birthdays on my calendar or something.”

“Doll.” You looked up to find him giving you a magnificent smile, teeth and all. “You’re rambling.”

“Oh. Am I? Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head quickly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. I’m just not used to you talking so much. You kinda did on the phone sometimes.”

You shrugged, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck at his words. “I rambled a lot to Steve.”

“Oh.”

His face fell, making you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, nudging him slightly to grin at him. “It’s nice to have someone to ramble to again, though.” There was that smile again. You were stopped from saying anything more when you noticed some kids pointing and chattering excitedly at a gleaming silver box coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. “There it is.”

He looked over his shoulder, dropping your hand and stepping over to grab it, lifting it effortlessly. You didn’t know what was in it or how heavy it was, but you were sure it felt like a feather to him.

“Alright. Got our bag, sweetheart?” You lifted up the duffle in answer and he jerked his head towards the doors. “Let’s get outta here, then. Call that Booper or whatever.”

“U-B-E-R! Ub-er!” You threw your hands up, following him as he started walking towards the exit. “What’s so hard about it?!”

He just gave you a little smirk over his shoulder.

***************

Bucky kept asking the Uber driver questions about his job. The guy was super nice and patient the whole time, a thick southern accent lacing his answers. Southern hospitality was no joke and apparently had no limit as Bucky asked about his experiences, listening intently and telling him his own stories of taxi drivers in NYC.

When you got to Sam’s sister’s house, Bucky, being Bucky, tipped the driver half of what you paid for the ride, thanking him for his time and energy, before getting out.

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” You teased him as you stepped up the porch stairs and knocked on the door.

He rolled his eyes, a tint of pink dusting across his cheeks. “He was nice.”

You hummed at his defense, the smile never leaving your features. After a moment, Bucky raised his fist to knock again. “Jesus Christ! Don’t fucking knock their door down!” You grabbed his wrist and lowered it.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Bucky informed you absentmindedly,  tilting his head to peek in the window. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“They’re probably at the docks, then.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The docks?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you. “Yeah. They have a boat, remember? He talked about it last week.”

“Oh right. The one he’s trying to convince his sister not to sell.”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way. I don’t know how far, but we can call the Uber back-”

Bucky scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t wanna bother him again. We can walk.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “It’s literally his job to drive people around.”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s got other people to drive?”

You lifted his metal knuckles to your lips. “Trust me, Buck, I’m sure he’d rather drive you than anyone else.”

“Thank you?”

Swinging your now linked hands, you gave a firm nod, letting him know it was, in fact, a compliment. “You are so very welcome.”

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it was, and you ended up on Bucky’s back after he kept complaining about how you “shouldn’t be walking this long” and you were “injured” and you “needed rest’”. You’re not sure how a shoulder wound affected your ability to walk, but you relented and let him carry you the rest of the way to stop his whining.

“You forget, you did pull your thigh.”

“That was, like, three weeks ago! Yeesh!”

You finally got to the docks, which were bustling with people. Bucky set you down and raised an eyebrow which you shrugged in reply to, before heading over to where you spotted Sam with a few other older men.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, pointing to a large boat engine part in the bed of a beaten up truck. Scoffing as Bucky lifted it up without breaking a sweat, you leaned against the truck. Bucky grunted and set it down, looking at Sam.

“You’re welcome.” What a punk. “Just dropping this off.” Bucky lifted the case and set it where the engine was previously, Sam coming to stand on the opposite side of the truck as you. “You can sign for it and I’ll go.” You snorted, shaking your head, making Bucky shove your shoulder - the uninjured one - playfully. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam looked at you curiously. You shrugged and shook your head. “Don’t look at me, Sammy. He wouldn’t tell me what it is. He’s all hushy hushy about it until you say so.”

Before Sam could reply, there was a squeak and hissing over at the boat where steam was coming from a few pipes.

“Sam!” You knew that was Sarah from pictures Sam showed you. You stayed up by the truck, pulling yourself onto the bed while Sam tried fixing the pipe, Bucky butting in to show him how to do it properly.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

You saw Bucky lift up said metallic limb. “Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m-I’m right handed.” Letting out a laugh, Bucky turned around and scowled teasingly at you. “And what’re you laughing at?!”

“Nothing!”

“Well then get your ass over here!”

You rolled your eyes, hopping down from the truck as Bucky asked if Sam wanted help with the boat. You leaned against a wooden post, grinning when Sam looked at you.

“I don’t have any plans.”

Sam gave a small smile, jerking his head back. “Yeah.”

You jumped down onto the boat to follow him, looking over your shoulder and stopping with an amused eyebrow raised as Bucky introduced himself to Sarah. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah…Sarah.”

“Sarah.” Bucky repeated her name, before walking towards you, a grin still on his lips.

“Careful, Barnes. That playboy Steve warned me about is coming out.” You nudged him with a smirk, ignoring the feeling of your stomach dropping.

He rolled his eyes, kissing your head as he passed you and Sam to go where Sam was gesturing. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re still my doll.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, falling into step besides you and lowering his voice. “Conversation?”

“Hasn’t happened.” You informed him through clenched teeth as he groaned.

Sam gave you a list of chores that needed to be done to clean up the boat, giving you a quick tour and letting you know where all the tools needed where. You set to work immediately.

Sanding down, replacing old parts, cleaning, polishing and painting over the things that didn’t need replacing. They didn’t let you do any heavy lifting because of your stupid shoulder, but you were still able to help.

Sam had turned on some music for you to listen to, so you danced around the boat while cleaning. Turning your head when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you smiled when Bucky snapped his head back down to the wood he was sanding down.

“Gonna dance, Barnes?”

He looked back over, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m good watching you.”

Rolling your eyes, you got back to work, continuing to bop to the music, fully aware that he was watching you now.

A little while later, you were repainting the edges of the boat orange, when you looked over and noticed Bucky playing around with a paint scraper…sitting right on the edge that you had just finished repainting a few minutes ago.

“Buck!”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your mischievous grin. Shaking your head, you waved dismissively. “Never mind!”

He gave you a confused sort of pout, before shrugging and continuing to fidget with the tool. It wasn’t until later when he got up to help Sam tear the metal plating off the edge that it came to light with Sam chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“Sit in something there, Barnes?”

“What?”

Bucky craned his neck back, eyes widening when he saw the orange paint on his ass, contrasting with his jeans. You let out a cackle and he whipped towards you, pointing at you accusingly, although the small uptick of his lips let you know he wasn’t really mad.

“Y/N!”

“No, no, no!” You laughed, sprinting across the deck, shrieking when he grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when he grabbed a paint brush and painted an orange stripe right down the front of your shirt. “James!”

“Justice, sweetheart.” He breathed in your ear with a chuckle.

You shook your head, wiggling out of his hold. “This is a nice shirt!”

“You should’ve thought about that before.” He smirked, crossing his arms. Your eyes caught sight of Sam behind him, who raised an eyebrow and the bucket of paint he was holding. You nodded with a little giggle, making Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny over there, do - holy shit!

You guffawed as orange paint dripped down his head, Sam standing innocently behind him with the now empty bucket behind his back. “Samuel!”

“Oops?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Try me old man!”

“Fuck!

“Doll!”

“Oh my God!”

Paint, orange and white since those were the only cans they had out, flew across the deck, paint brushes being used like fencing swords.

You found out too late that wet paint was a little bit slippery and you slid on a huge puddle, sending you, not onto the ground below, but over the side of the edge into the water. 

“Doll!”

“Cher, you good?!” 

The three of you looked at each other, stunned for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter and you nodded. “I’m good!”

The boys helped you get back up onto the dock, Sarah appearing with towels she conjured up out of thin air. “Let’s get you into dry clothes. Do you have-?”

“We’ve got some. We got a bag.” You told her with a grin, facing the guys. “You two should clean up some, too. Sammy, you’ve got a little something right there.” You pointed to your cheek, his own having a giant white splotch from his temple to his jaw. “And Buck?” You sniggered, gesturing to the whole of him. “You’ve got a lotta something right there.” 

“Ha. Ha.” He looked down. His top was practically tiger print, drenched in orange with white here and there, and his ass still orange as well. His hair, which had been plastered to his forehead, was starting to dry now, and it only made you laugh some more thinking about what a pain it’d be to get it out. For him, at least.

“God. Can’t even have a relaxing day on the boat with you two.” Sam jested once you finished up and joined him and Bucky, who had just finished dumping out some water buckets. Bucky had changed his shirt and it looked like they tried wiping their faces, but Sam still had small lines of white down his face. “How ‘bout a couple of drinks? Surely you can’t ruin that too.”

“Ruin?” You gasped in mock offence. “Sammy! I just made the day more…interesting.”

Sam chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair, which still had orange streaks in it. “Let’s go get some beers.”

************

You chatted for a bit, mainly you and Sam with you asking how Sarah and the boys were while Bucky with your legs in his lap, just listening to you two and sipping at his bottle. You had his hand in your own lap, wiping it down with a rag due to the paint that got on it.

“You’re lucky this is vibranium, you know.” You commented off handedly. “If it was your other one, it’d definitely get stained.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky shot back with a teasing grin.

“Sammy’s.”

Sam spluttered. “Wh-what?! You started it!” You laughed, shaking your head.

Falling into a comfortable silence with just the water and birds chirping as your soundtrack, you downed the rest of your drink, which Bucky took as finished. “Well,” you moved your legs to let him stand up. He leaned forwards to clink his bottle against Sam’s and you stood up and stretched. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night.” Sam gave you a look to which you rolled your eyes at as Bucky set down his bottle and grabbed his jacket. “Crash, you know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here.” You laughed as Sam babbled on about how nice the people were here, grabbing the jacket Bucky handed to you. It was getting a bit chilly from the breeze on the water and the sun going down. Plus, that water was cold.

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

You cackled at Bucky’s face, that turned serious, his head shaking. “No.”

“‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

“Can’t hold back the dog, Wilson. It’s been stuck in a kennel too long.”

Bucky turned to you, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together. “You know what? You need to shush. You’ve been snippy all day.”

You just smiled as innocently as you could with your lips being held by his metal fingers. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

He pecked your nose. “As long as I’m the only one you’re messing with. I’ll be right back.” He let you go and spun around, maneuvering around the boat in a way only a trained assassin could do.

“Oh my God, please! Please just put me out of my fucking misery! You’re killing me, cher.”

“What?” You gaped at him.

“Don’t act innocent!” Sam huffed, giving you a pointed look. “If I have to watch you two make googly eyes at you one more fucking day with neither of you doing anything about it-”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, Sammy-”

“Don’t ‘come on, Sammy’ me! And don’t come at me with that ‘he doesn’t like me back’ bullshit. If you think for a second that boy wouldn’t follow you to the depths of the fucking ocean, you’re blind as a bat, woman.”

You shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of Bucky’s too big jacket. “It just…hasn’t come up.”

He deadpanned, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s it. I’m done. You two are driving me insane. I’m gonna lock you in a room until you have the conversation that needs to be had the next time either of you does something stupid.”

“Yikes. That’s gonna be quick.” At his look, your smile dropped and you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll…I’ll bring it up later.”

“Tomorrow or nothing.”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted his head, brow creasing. “Is it still Steve? Is that what this is still about? Because he’s gone, and he’s been gone and you need to get over it-”

“No. It’s not…” You sighed. “It clicked the other day. When we were hanging out. Steve left and, yeah, I might always love him, but Bucky…God…I love Bucky, Sam.”

The man grinned proudly. “I’m glad to finally hear you admit it. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s still complicated, right? I mean…he’s his best friend and I’ve never dealt with stuff like this before and-”

Sam’s smile dropped and he groaned again. “Imma head out. I can’t take this. Dumbass and dumberass. I swear to God.” You sniggered a bit as he grumbled, walking towards the ramp to climb off the boat, just as Bucky reappeared.

“Hey-”

“Nope! Not right now, Barnes! I can’t handle it! I can’t!”

Bucky gave you a weird look. “What’d you do?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Well, c’mon, doll. Sarah said she’s gonna make gumbo for us, whatever that is.” He held out his hand as you walked over. 

“You’re such a city boy.” You teased lightly, taking his hand and letting him help you pull you onto the dock. You shoved the sleeves of his jackets up again since they slipped from the first time. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

******************

“We have the couch and a mattress we can pull out, I just have to make Sam get it from the attic-”

“That’s alright. The couch is fine.” Bucky waved dismissively while you nodded in agreement.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at you two. “For both of you?”

You blinked, exchanging a look with Bucky, before shrugging and turning back to her. “Yeah.”

“Don’t fight it, Sarah.” Sam peeked out from the hall. “They’ve got a weird relationship.” You stuck your tongue out at the man while Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping your duffle bag by the couch. “How mature, Y/N.” Sam mimicked your action.

“Uhm…okay. Let me set up the couch for you then.”

Once everything was set up, you and Bucky thanking her for dinner - delicious and you’d never seen Bucky smile so much, the boys having kept him highly entertained throughout the meal - and for letting you crash, Sam and Sarah headed to their rooms, the boys already having been tucked in for the night.

“Are you gonna sleep on the floor?” You asked quietly, sitting down on the couch and doing the things for your night routine you didn’t already do in the bathroom.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He sat besides you. “I’ve been doing fine the past week or so.”

You smiled at him. “That’s good. Alright.” You stood up and stretched. “Let me just make sure everything’s in the bag and ready-”

You yelped when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest, shifting down to lay against the couch’s arm. “Do it in the morning.” He yawned, looking up at you tiredly. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep, Buck. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, his hold tightening as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“No. I fall asleep better with you.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, settling down with your legs between his, your chin resting on his sternum so you could still look at him. He beamed, but you could see the exhaustion settling in, and he grabbed the blanket Sarah left over the back of the couch and draped it across your back, over both of your legs, before his arms crossed snugly under the covers at the small of your back.

“Dinner was nice tonight. I haven’t had a meal cooked like that in ages.” You hummed.

He nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the first time I’ve sat around a table with a family since the 40′s.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah...kinda makes me wish I had my own.”

“Your own what?”

“Family.”

You bit your lip, shyly avoiding his gaze. “You’re my family, Buck.”

A light kiss was pressed to your forehead, his fingers bringing your gaze back to his. “There’s no one else I’d rather have.” The room lapsed into silence again, the clock ticking on the wall, the low sound of crickets outside.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You mumbled, tilting your head slightly as you studied them. They always held so much emotion in them, especially in contrast to when you first met him as Soldat. They matched the water you fell in, and you wouldn’t mind falling over and over into them.

“Yeah, well, you’re just really pretty inside and out, so I think you’ve got me beat, doll.” He whispered back.

“You know who else is pretty? Sarah.”

He nodded with a hum. “That’s true. But I meant what I said. You’ll always be my doll.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

He gave you a weird look as you traced his sharp jawline absentmindedly. “Nah, sweetheart. It’s just…some harmless flirting. Except on Sam’s part.”

You gave a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah…he’s gonna strangle you. It is nice to see you like that, though. Flirty. Relaxed. Happy.”

“You make me happy, sweetheart.” He hummed, nosing your temple. “The road trip helped. I’m learning everything from you. Maybe not the flirting, but the carefree part.”

You blinked at him, finger stopping for a moment as you thought. “Oh…”

You felt his fingers dance up your spine, making you shiver slightly. “What I would give to know what’s goin’ on inside that pretty lil’ head’a yours, doll.”

“I just think it’s funny you’re learning how to be carefree from me…when I just started learning how to do it myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, your finger continuing its path down his jaw. “I think it started with the goats.”

“The goats?”

You nodded again, resting your cheek on his chest, watching your finger move up from his chin. Once you got to the end of his jaw, you lightly scratched his scruff. “In Wakanda. Our goats.” You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the way he physically melted at your words, his eyes going soft, his lips turning up slightly.

“Our goats, huh?”

But your tired brain wasn’t really processing what he said, instead focusing on the features your finger was now tracing - over his lips, up his nose. “You’re pretty too, Buck. Did you know that? Inside and out.”

He craned his neck to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, cuddle bug.”

Nodding, you nuzzled into his chest, finger feeling over the bumps and indents on the dog tags resting near your head. You tried going to sleep, but you kept shifting, your mind not shutting off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, I’m trying to, you know, sleep.”

“Sorry.” You apologized meekly. “I just��I dunno. I can’t.”

“Are you comfortable?” He peeked open and eye to look at you questioningly. You nodded. “Is it too hot? We can take the blanket off. I know I’m a walking furnace-”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know why. I just can’t sleep.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, before cradling your head and guiding you back down to his chest. “Lay down, sweetheart. Relax.” He stroked your hair, moving his head down to rub circles in your back muscles, pressing down harder when he felt knots. 

You hummed, your eyes closing. “That feels good.”

“Shshsh. Just go to sleep.” His lips pressed against your head once more, lingering a bit longer than they usually do, as you felt yourself drift off. You cuddled his side, throwing a leg over his waist, before nodding off, only barely hearing his words. “Attagirl. There we are.”

******************

“Doll?” You felt a shift underneath you and groaned, your eyes barely cracking open. “Hey, sleepyhead…it’s okay. I’m just gonna slip out from under ya, alright? Gonna go help Sammy with somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him move you against the cushions as he sat up on the edge of the couch. “Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He bent over and kissed your cheek. You stretched out your limbs, about to rub your eyes, when he stopped you, kissing the inside of your wrists. “No. Not you, doll. Go back to sleep.” 

“Bu’...’m gonna help.” You slurred out, looking at him with confused, squinty eyes.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Rest. You can help when you wake up again. Okay?” You mumbled out an “okay”, bringing the covers up to your chin and snuggling deeper into the cushions. “There ya go, cuddle bug. Good girl.” There was another kiss, one to your temple this time, before you slipped back into unconsciousness.

******************

The next time you woke up was because of a clatter in the kitchen. You yawned and sat up, stretching, eyebrows furrowing when you realized Bucky wasn’t with you. It took you a moment to remember your conversation, which you half thought you dreamt.

“Boys!”

“Sorry!”

You chuckled at the shouts, rubbing your eyes. “I am so sorry!” Sarah apologized, looking over at you from the stove. Trying to make the boys breakfast before school. Do you want anything? Eggs? Cereal? Toast?”

“Uh, cereal’s fine.” You stretched out your back again, before throwing back the covers and standing up, a little shakily.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam went, would you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think him and Bucky went to fix something on the boat. I don’t for sure, though.”

Sarah groaned. “He probably went to fix the stupid water pump which doens’t need fixing. Dumbass.”

You chuckled, padding over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I just work with him. I can’t imagine growing up with him.”

“Trust me; some days you want to throw him in a box and send him out to sea. Bowls are in that cupboard.”

You snickered, moving over to grab a bowl from the cupboard she pointed to. “That’s how I feel with Bucky. Sam is less often, but when those two get together…it’s a full zoo.”

She laughed at that, nodding as she got out the milk and a few boxes of cereal for you to choose from, handing you a spoon. “That I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You started pouring your cereal, watching in slight amusement as she got the boys ready for school. “Bus is here! Get out the door! Bye! Love you! Make sure you take those extra lunches to-!”

“Yeah, mom! We know! Love you too!”

You gave a slight smirk as she huffed, looking around the kitchen at the pans and dishes left out. “Kids, huh?”

She gave you a smile. “Yeah. They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. How about you? Any thoughts of kids?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened, nearly choking on your food. “Oh God no. Not right now, at least. I don’t even have a solid house right now. My life’s too off the walls for that.”

“And Bucky?”

You raised an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter. “Bucky? What about Bucky?”

“Does he want kids?”

“Uh…I dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat as you remembered your talk last night. “Kinda makes me wish I had my own.” You quickly pushed his words aside. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Wait, wait. You two…aren’t together then?”

You blinked, your eyes widening again. “Together? Me and Bucky? No…why? Did Sam say something?”

Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, crossing her arms. “Sam didn’t say anything. You guys did. Are you seriously expecting me to believe you aren’t together?”

“We’re not! I mean - he was flirting with you yesterday-”

“Right, okay. Honey, that’s flirting. And it’s harmless. The way he follows you like a puppy and you look at him like he hung the stars? That’s feelings. And that’s a lot more impactful than flirting.”

You frowned in contemplation. It was really that obvious? You were really that blind? This whole time? You knew Sam knew - but you just figured that’s because he’s been there since it started. And Sharon knew for the same reason. But Sarah? The woman you just met the day prior and had barely had a conversation with?

“It’s, uh…” You chewed on your cheek, swirling your cereal around. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Do you like him?”

“I’m kinda in love with him-”

She shrugged, not letting you finish your bashful statement. “Then I don’t see what’s complicated about it.”

And that was that. She turned to clean up breakfast, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You thought it was more complicated than that. I mean…you were in love with your best friend. Who left you. With the guy you had feelings for who just so happened to be your best friend/crush’s best friend. And now you were completely in love with your best friend’s best friend, but your best friend still had a piece of your heart.

But…you loved Bucky. And he was here. And Steve was not. And when you put it that way…you guess it wasn’t so complicated after all.

******************

You snickered as you walked up behind Sarah, the woman berating the men for not leaving the water pump along like she asked.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Sam shot Bucky a warning look, who grinned, but you were surprised to see Sarah ignore him, sending you a knowing glance instead, before turning back to Sam. “I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.”

You chuckled, Bucky shooting you a wink. “Yeah, Samuel.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you, turning to Sarah. “In our defense, you were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

You nearly facepalmed at his “defensive” and you were trying so hard to hold back laughing as she told Sam off, sending them away.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” Sam pointed at you, but that only made your chortles come out, and you didn’t even bother hiding them. “She’s a very mean person.”

“It’s tough love.”

You giggled as they started arguing, slipping an arm around their waists, their arms instinctually coming up to your shoulders.

“Oh my God. A prowess?”

“Yes, Y/N. A prowess.”

“You know, maybe if you someone let me help-”

“Hey, woah! You were tired! I let you sleep! I was being nice!”

“Too late now. I’ll be lucky if Sarah lets me within a hundred feet of it!”

“She got you so good, Sammy!”

“I agree with Buck for once! You’re too snippy right now! And c’mon man! Stop flirting with my sister!”

“It’s my natural charm.”

“Charm? What charm?”

“Ouch, doll! That one hurt!”

****************

“Okay.” You stepped out of the bathroom, walking over to the couch and setting the bag down on it. “I’ve got everything packed. We’ve got a little over an hour until we need to head out which gives you two time to go set something up for Sammy and maybe even a bit or training before we leave.” 

Bucky frowned. “You’re not gonna come out?”

“I will in a bit. I just got a phone call I need to take.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Government call?”

You gave a mocking smile. “Can you guess what they want to talk about? It’s okay. I’ll survive. It’s only a phone call, so I can always hang up. Pretend I didn’t have good service. I do it all the time.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam chuckled. “In that case, I’m gonna go grab some stuff and get the shield.” As he walked out, he made sure to mouth at you behind Bucky’s back ‘conversation’ making you swallow thickly. You were planning on talking to Bucky anyways, and with Sam’s insistence…

“Okay, so, I was thinking when we get back-”

“Can I talk to you?”

Bucky stopped digging through the bag, blinking at you in surprise at your sudden burst. “Uh…well, we already are, so yes.” He chuckled, straightening and crossing his arms.

“I wanna have the conversation.”

He was left stunned, once again, his mouth opening and closing and his weight shifting form one foot to the other. “Like…that conversation? R-right now? Are you sure?”

You winced at her nervousness. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda…I just…I need to talk about it. Now.”

“Okay, okay. No, that’s fine. Don’t apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Bucky cleared his throat. “That’s all.”

“Okay…” You breathed with a small nod. You opened your mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“I hafta say this first; I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you about Steve. I-I dunno what I thought. That it’d give you closure or something. I dunno. But it hurt you and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Buck-”

“I was jealous. And guilty. And mad. And upset. I still am. Kinda. I guess. I dunno.” Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair and all you could do was gape at him as he started confessing to you. “Remember when we danced? In Madripoor? Doll…I don’t wanna dance ever again if it’s not with you. I fucking love you, Y/N. And not in the way we’ve said it before. I’m in love with you. I have been for-for a while now. I just - you were Steve’s. Steve loved you and you loved Steve and that was that and I was just the broken childhood best friend. But Steve left and he told me to take care of you and I didn’t know what to do with that, because you still love Steve. I think. I dunno. And I didn’t want to break what we have because you’re all I have left of him. You and that stupid shield. You’re my family. My home. I really meant it when I told you that. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it means too much for me to break what we have because I fell in love with my best friend’s girl. You know?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to understand, but your brain was still trying to process what he was telling you.

“Oh God…” He groaned. “And now I just told you everything and you’re looking at me like that wasn’t what you wanted to hear and now I’m thinking this wasn’t the conversation you were thinking it was going to be-”

You were moving across the room before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the teal Henley you knew was comfortable having worn it to bed before when you visited him in New York, and slanting your lips over his.

His breathing hitched and he froze, and for a hot second you thought you made everything worse, but then he was kissing you back and his hands were on your hips and he was pulling you closer and it felt so fucking good you didn’t want to pull back for air.

“Shut up.” You muttered when you finally did pull back, your forehead against his, your eyes clenched shut. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” You pulled back to look up at him, chests heaving against each other, your eyes prickling. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at opening up. I only ever was good at it with Steve but Bucky…I’ve been doing it with you. This whole time and I didn’t even realize it until the conversation in the car.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the relieved tears that were falling from the weight you were finally getting off your chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. How could I not be? After all that time in Wakanda? I was never Steve’s girl, Bucky. I wanted to be. Dammit, did I wanna be, but I wasn’t. Not really. And he’s gone. But you’re not. And I don’t know why it took me so long to see that. That you’re the one in front of me. You’re the one who held me when I needed it once he left. You’re the one that would listen to my rambles that I’m just realizing was most of our phone calls. You’re not just the broken childhood friend. Don’t ever think that. I don’t pick up the phone at five in the morning after searching for a friend until two for just anyone. Even Steve’s best friend. And I’m such an idiot because I’ve been pushing away my feelings all these years for Steve and then I let them out with you at the wrong time, because I love Steve, Bucky, but I’m not in love with him. Not since I fell in love with you. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but Steve was the first one I cared about and that’s just how I feel and I can try to explain, but-”

His lips crashed onto yours again and you could taste the salty tears that were pouring down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. He was holding you and he was kissing you and it was even more perfect than you thought it’d be.

“You’re adorable when you ramble, but Jesus Christ, shuddup, doll.” He breathed. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me you love me just a fraction of how much I love you.”

You looked up into those ocean eyes, your own shining with earnest affection. “James Buchanan Barnes. I love you.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He murmured against your lips, holding your head against his, still wiping away your tears. It felt like with each one that fell, you felt lighter and lighter. Like they were taking away every fear and anxiety you held within you for the past six months.

“Alright! I was thinking we could just set up in these trees out here - holy shit! Is it done? Did you do it? Did I miss it? Has the conversation been had?”

Bucky chuckled as you giggled. “He has the worst timing.” The last two words were loud enough so Sam could hear, although the man heard the whole sentence. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes!” Sam cheered. “Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! I was that close to locking you two in the attic.”

You shook your head at Sam’s personal celebration, drowning the rest of his words out as you looked at Bucky, who swept his thumb over your cheek catching one last tear, before pecking your lips.

“I finally get to kiss where I really want to.” He spoke softly, kissing your lips again. “Are you mine, doll?”

“I thought you said I’d always be your doll.” You answered cheekily. He grinned, kissing you again, pulling you against him by the hips.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! We get it! You’re in love, finally, but I don’t wanna see it anymore! Now will you come help me with this shit?”

Bucky left one more lingering kiss on your lips, before you pushed him away reluctantly. “I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, moving over to help Sam carry the things he’d gathered.

You watched them put it all up from the window, gnawing on your cheek as you spun your phone in your hands. Coming to a decision, you tossed your phone in the duffle bag and walked out with it just as the boys finished.

“That was a quick phone call.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Didn’t call them. If they really need me, they’ll find me.”

Bucky grinned as you set the bag down under a tree, pecking your lips when you got close enough for him to grab by the waist to hold you against him. You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully away and giggling as Sam let out a groan.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sammy.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Bucky knew he needed the tough love talk Sam was giving him. He needed to hear it. Because, deep down, he had known it all along, he just refused to believe it. He tried doing it. Making amends. He knew he wasn’t though. And of course he knew immediately who that one person would be.

“And hey.” Bucky looked at him. “Let me tell you what. Telling my girl all that you told her? That’s a good start. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You’re already happier. I can see it in your eyes.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he thought of the gorgeous woman he nearly let slip through his fingers. He looked over to the house, where she was inside somewhere getting ready after suddenly deciding she needed to shower before they left. “I was stupid.”

“Yeah you were. You both were. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Sam nudged him. “Treat her right, Buck. She deserves it.”

“I know…I just hope I can.”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You were just starting to use that cyborg brain of yours! She chose you. And before you say anything,” Sam cut Bucky off from speaking as he opened his mouth to object. “She chose you before Steve left. It just took her dumbass this long to realize it.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay…” Before he could say anything, the goddess herself stepped out, jogging over, looking absolutely amazing in her jeans and his t-shirt. “Good talk.”

Sam laughed at his quick ending of the conversation as she came up besides them. “Talking about me?” She asked cheekily, eyes shining. Bucky couldn’t help but take her under his arm, pecking her lips. Now that he could, he didn’t think he could stop. He was addicted to say the least.

Throwing Bucky a wink, Sam shrugged. “Just all the things that get on our nerves.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “We better get going.”

Bucky and Sam clapped hands. “You know Karli won’t quit.”

Bucky smiled. “Ah. You call us when you have a lead and we’ll be there.”

Y/N stepped forwards to give Sam a hug. “Anytime, Sammy.”

“Eh. Anytime between noon and midnight.” Bucky corrected. “Or noon and ten. Noon and five…you better just call at noon to be safe.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.”

“Not necessarily as a team.” Bucky continued, grabbing the bag, getting Y/N back in her spot at his side under his arm.

“Nope!”

“We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

Sam snapped, pointing at him. “Coworkers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a couple mutual friends.”

“Ones now gone and you’re dating the other.”

“So we’re a couple of guys…with a badass to help out.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Y/N let out that laugh Bucky could never get enough of, shaking her head at the two of them. “You forgot dumbasses.”

Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh. That’s your couple name.”

“Dumbasses?”

“Oh yeah.” The three of them came to a stop, Bucky and his girl - God he loved confirming it now - facing Sam. “Thanks for the help, guys. Meant a lot.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Of course.”

Y/N shot him a wink. “Until we meet again, Sammy.”

“Until then, cher.”

Bucky couldn’t stop his grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the two of them starting to walk to the main road where she already ordered an Uber. He looked down at her, kissing her lips for the nth time in the past hour.

“I wish I didn’t wait so long,” he told her seriously. “But I’d wait a thousands more centuries if it meant I get to call you mine.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a sap! But…” she moved up to kiss him and his heart stuttered. He knew he had a goofy grin on when she pulled back, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she laughed again. “I have to agree with you on that, Buckaroo.”

[barakittens517]

PT II: The Finding

Summary: In which Ellis makes some friends! (kinda)

PT 1: The Lost PT III: The Reunion

Words: 3,851

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, minor (slightly graphic) character death, minor religious themes

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: Gifting a wayyy longer second part because I really want to get to the good shit!!! I'm kidding, but I promise this is going somewhere good (:

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets

Now you were awake, at a truck stop far from anywhere you’d been before. Your homicidal companion was preoccupied with one of the driver’s side wheels, and he couldn’t see you. 

Now… Now’s your chance.

You hop over the car door and sling your backpack over your shoulder. You practically sprint  towards the gas station, hoping and praying he won’t look up. 

You make a beeline towards the middle aisle to hide behind the displays. So far, so good. You pretend to be fixated on the snacks, but you keep peeking over the aisle to make sure Rin is still outside. 

“You findin’ everything all right?” a gruff voice asks from behind you. You jump at the sudden noise.

“Y-yeah, I think so,” you stutter. “Can’t decide between a Snickers and a Reese’s cup.” 

The gas station attendant behind you chuckles. “That’s a tough one. My vote would be for the peanut butter.”

You offer a nervous smile and meet the attendant’s eyes. He’s older, likely in his fifties, with graying sideburns and a scuffed baseball hat with St. John’s Outfield Angels stitched on the front. The nametag on his collared shirt reads Ryan.  

“Thank you, Ryan,” you say. 

“Not a problem,” he replies. He tilts his head to the side as your eyes meet, and the strange look that follows makes your stomach flip. In less than a moment his friendly demeanor drops, and he falls to his knees in front of you with tears in his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ!” you exclaim. His hands are clasped in prayer, and he’s rocking back and forth, muttering something under his breath. “Are you okay?” you ask. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a man in a cream-colored jacket heading for the front doors. 

Shit. 

“Um, Ryan?”  you ask. “Should I call an ambulance?” You crouch down as the bell on the front door rings out. Rin is here. You place a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and he looks up at you. 

“... Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Mea culpa, mea culpa, oh God, get away from me!” he yells. You wrench your hand to your chest and fall backwards to the floor. You can see Rin watching with the ghost of a smile on his face. 

Ryan starts sobbing in earnest now, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I’ve been a terrible man, a sinner and a liar an-and, oh, God forgive me, I am my father’s son!” he wails. You’re terrified, seemingly frozen in place less than a foot from him. 

He looks up at you, eyes rimmed red, and that strange look returns. “Forgive me,” he whispers, so quiet you have to lean forward to hear him. At that moment he rips the ball point pen clipped to his pocket and clicks it open. “You have to forgive me,” he pleads, then plunges the tip into his neck. 

“No!” you shriek, but it’s too late already. He’s hit a major artery, and he’s dead before his head even hits the tile. For the second time in twenty-four hours, you are covered in someone else’s blood. 

Rin applauds from the front counter. “You know, I was wondering about you, Ellis. Thinking you might try and run like this, but now? Now, I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

You wipe the blood from your cheek and try to remember what breathing feels like. “What… the fuck,” you whisper, and now the tears won’t stop streaming. 

Living as long as you have was never this brutal. You avoided most confrontations. The only pain inflicted was on you, never anyone else.

Rin steps over the body in front of you and grabs your hand to pull you up. “I had a feeling about you. Come on, let’s, uh… let’s get you out of here.” You follow him blindly to the front of the store. “Go get in the car. I’m gonna grab a couple of things and I’ll follow you out,” he says, holding the door open. 

You walk silently to the convertible and slink down into one of the seats. You unwrap Rin’s kerchief to wipe the blood off of your hands and find two disembodied eyeballs staring back at you from the cupholder. 

What the fuck.

The alarm bells ringing in your head are muted by the general dissociation you feel. You’re still holding the now-half-melted peanut butter cups in your hand. 

You’re startled by the slam of the car door. Rin is holding out a blue Gatorade. 

“Here,” he says. “It’s gonna be a long drive, and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

You take a sip and choke- it’s definitely blue Gatorade, but it’s also definitely mixed with some kind of liquor. “We do?” 

He grins as he starts the car and pulls onto the highway. “We do.”

You take longer sips of the Gatorade as he drives, grateful for the hydration and the alcohol. The panic you constantly felt is starting to wear off, enough for you to start questioning everything about your seemingly pointless existence.

“You seem to know a lot about what’s going on,” you start. “Who even are you?” 

“You really wanna know?” he asks. You nod. “Well, let’s start with you. Ellis. Something tells me you’ve been passing through a lot of towns in your time.” 

You recall your brief conversation at the bar, if you could even call it that. You sigh. “Um… yeah. I don’t- I guess I don’t remember where I started. It’s just been… a lot of years. Like… I don't know. I don’t really keep track anymore.”

Rin nods. You take another sip of the Gatorade, now half gone. The buzz is making you braver.

“I don’t die,” you say out loud, and the thought startles you. “I never have.” You think back as far as you can, just before the beginning. You were younger, but you looked the same. You always looked the same. 

“Do you dream?” Rin asks. The idea of dreaming catches you off guard. You rarely sleep, and when you do, it’s never more than a couple hours. 

“No,” you answer. 

“What’s the earliest memory you have?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Somewhere… there was a big war. In Europe. The first one,” you clarify. 

“And you’ve always been by yourself?” he asks. 

You think hard but come up blank. “I guess I don’t know. I think so. It’s all… blank.” He nods. You take another sip of Gatorade and grimace at the burn of liquor going down your throat. “What about you? Do you know me, or something?” you ask.

Rin smiles. “Know of you, maybe. I imagine we must’ve left around the same time.”

“Left where?” you ask. 

“The Dreaming, Ellis. I left when the Creator abandoned it. Abandoned us.” The distinct malice in his tone makes you shiver. 

“I’m sorry, the Creator? You mean, like, God?” You hadn’t thought about God in over a century. He didn’t seem to care much for you. 

Rin laughs. “No, worse. Much worse. His name is Morpheus.” 

Your head is spinning trying to follow his story. “So… so, what? What does he create?” 

For the first time, Rin removes his sunglasses. Two mouths with perfectly white rows of teeth smile from his eye sockets. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper under your breath. He smiles. 

“He creates dreams,” Rin answers, “And nightmares. I suppose you don’t have to guess what that makes me.” A moment later, he replaces his glasses. You both sit in silence for a moment. “Make sense so far?” he asks.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “I think so.”

“He called me The Corinthian,” he says. 

You nod. “Guess the name you told me wasn’t too far off,” you say. “I would’ve gone with Ian, I think.”

The Corinthian laughs. “I’ll take that into consideration next time.”

All things considered, you feel better. Lighter. The Corinthian isn’t going to kill you. You’ve been reassured about your existence- of course you never felt like you belonged. You don’t. Whatever the Dreaming is, that’s where you’re supposed to be. 

You just don’t remember how you got here. 

Or what that makes you.

You cross the state lines into Georgia quicker than you’d expected. The Corinthian drives like a bat out of hell, but you haven’t seen a single cop in hundreds of miles. You haven’t seen much of anyone, to be honest. And you’re grateful, in a sense. The last person that saw you stuck a Bic in his carotid. 

The thought still makes you ill, a feeling even the liquor won’t help. The Corinthian pulls into a hotel parking lot and parks off to the side. 

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” he starts. “I have a job to do.”

“Rose Walker,” you say. He nods. 

“Now, I have reliable information that places her brother somewhere-” he motions to the highway going east- “around here. I intend to find him.”

“So you’re… dropping me off?” you ask. You didn’t usually stay at hotels, and you definitely weren’t looking forward to interacting with other people any time soon. You’d almost hoped the Corinthian would just take you with him, wherever he was going. 

He nods. “There’s gonna be a convention here, the day after tomorrow. I’ll be back then, and I’ll have her little brother with me.” He holds his hand up to stop you from interrupting him. “Now, I understand there’s a lot you don’t know. That’s fine. You’ve been helpful up till now, so I’m willing to help you out. There’s already been rooms booked for me. You just hang out, and don’t cause too much trouble, and we’ll all be home free by the end of the week.” 

You have so. Many. Questions. “A convention?” 

The Corinthian grins proudly. “I’m their guest of honor. Get to make a speech and everything. Now, that room’s booked under ‘The Corinthian’. They’re, uh... They’re big fans of my work. You just tell ‘em you’re with me.”

“Okay.” You shift in the leather seat, unbuckling the belt to grab your backpack. “So I just… wait? And then what?” 

His expression darkens. “I’ll take care of the rest. Just… stay in the room, okay? We don’t need you making anyone else off themselves with office supplies.” It’s a joke, but it stings. You force a smile anyways. 

“No problem.” You slam the door closed- probably a little too forcefully, and start towards the front doors. The Corinthian leans out the window. 

“Here!” he shouts, tossing a pair of black aviators at you. You hold them up and wave as he burns out onto the highway.

The pit in your stomach is growing, but you try not to think about it. Instead, you put the sunglasses on and try to focus on the convention decorations. 

A red banner reads WELCOME CEREAL CONVENTION in bold red letters. You briefly wonder what in the fuck that actually means. 

Inside, you find a line of people waiting to check in. The ones who already have are wearing name tags like The Choir Boy and The Good Doctor. As much as you want to know more, you remember the Corinthian’s warning. You’re supposed to stay in the room. 

Minutes later, you reach the front desk. A very large man in cat ears is sitting behind it, propping up a clipboard on his stomach. “Name?” he asks. 

“I’m, uh, I’m with the Corinthian,” you say. His name tag says Fun Land. 

He looks down at his clipboard, then back at you, annoyed. “You’re not The Corinthian,” he states plainly. 

“I know, I said I’m with him,” you repeat. Fun Land sighs. 

“Fine, fine, whatever.” He rolls his eyes and crosses off a name on the clipboard. “Guest of honor gets free reign, I guess.” He hands you a lanyard with The Corinthian +1* scratched into the label and a room key with a number.

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Yep,” Fun Land replies, looking over your shoulder towards the man behind you. “Next!” 

You make your way upstairs and find your room. It’s a fancy suite- you assume presidential. Something about the Corinthian tells you he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You hang around for a bit, watching the cable channels on the TV until your stomach starts rumbling. You hadn’t really thought to pack food. You don’t want to risk adding to the Corinthian’s bill (if he was even going to be the one paying), but you do have cash. And there is a bar downstairs.

Without a second thought, you grab a handful of bills and stuff them into your front pocket. You take your name tag and the room key with you. You make your way downstairs to the hotel bar and pick a stool farthest from the door, away from most people. 

They’re all grouped together like schools of fish, name tags proudly displayed. None of them make sense to you, but you’re glad you have yours. 

You order two vodka lemonades and a platter of mozzarella sticks. The drinks are strong and the mozzarella sticks are piping hot. You’re done with the platter and both drinks before you even realize it. 

The alcohol is kicking in, and you feel calmer about the situation you’re in. Normally you’d be panicking, surrounded by strange people, wearing sunglasses indoors in case you accidentally cause a suicide. Now you’re still panicking, but in a manageable sense. The panic is relegated to a small voice echoing in the very back of your mind. You sit up a little straighter as you order another drink.

One of the ladies from the smaller group breaks away and heads towards you, waving. “You’re with the Corinthian, I see,” she smiles. Her name tag reads Dark Angel.

“Yes,” you answer, “I got here a little early.”

“Are you a fellow collector?” she asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Absolutely,” you answer without hesitation. You have no idea what you’ve just agreed with, or what a collector does. You’re assuming it is not, as the sign would have you think, about cereal. 

She grins. “That’s fantastic news. Now, you certainly don’t need to make a speech or anything, but you’re more than welcome to join the conference activities. We’re holding several workshops over the next couple of days, and I’m hosting the panel tonight.” She motions to the bartender. “Anything they order, put it on my tab.” She touches your shoulder and winks before rejoining her group. 

Was she… flirting with you? 

Regardless, you take her up on the offer and order two more vodka lemonades and a basket of chicken wings. It’s basically dinner, right? The bartender hands you a pre-mixed bottle the size of a pint of whiskey. 

Once the basket of chicken wings is gone, you decide it’s time to head to bed. You mentally pat yourself on the back for causing no harm, even though you didn’t listen to the Corinthian entirely. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to find out. 

You take the bottle of vodka lemonade with you, giving the bartender a nod of thanks for the life hack. Why order a bunch of little drinks when you could carry a whole portable bottle of them? You stumble into the carpeted hallway and hear Dark Angel’s voice coming from a conference room off to the left. 

You peek in the doorway. There’s a crowded auditorium. It looks like she’s giving a TEDTalk of some sort. Huh. 

You sneak into the back of the room- only for a moment, you tell yourself. Just to see what the convention’s about. 

“I see a lot of old faces in this crowd, and a lot of new ones,” Dark Angel says. She winks at you from the stage, and you raise your bottle to her. She smiles. “I’m glad we could all make it this year. Aside from The Family Man, of course, but that’s no bother.”

You zone out for a moment to take a look at the people seated around you. Something about them makes you incredibly uncomfortable. They’re hanging on every word she says. Some even have pens and pads of paper to take notes. 

“This… business that we’re in, it’s hard work, isn’t it?” Dark Angel asks. The crowd murmurs in agreement. “We don’t get a lot of acknowledgement for our successes. However, I’m hoping to change that in the near future. Considering our remarkable turnout, I’ve been talking with Nimrod.” She gestures towards a shorter man seated in the front, wearing large glasses. He smiles nervously at her acknowledgement. 

“The organizers of the convention have been talking, and we’d like to introduce a cash prize for one very special collector each year.” You perk up at the mention of money. You wouldn’t mind winning, granted, you’re not even sure what winning looks like. 

Dark Angel smiles. “Now, this would be completely voluntary. Anyone wanting to sign up would need to cough up $30 to be considered in the running. Does that sound fair?” she asks. The crowd nods in unison. 

“Now, I understand we all have our motivations for collecting. Nimrod and I thought this would add a bit of fun into the mix. There will be many opportunities to sign up over the next few days, and the winner will be announced at next year’s convention. Any questions so far?”  

A man in the third row, dressed in a three-piece suit and hat, raises his hand. “How is the winner decided?” he asks. 

Dark Angel nods. “Good question. The organizers of the convention and a few volunteers will need to keep record of those who sign up. They’ll watch for relevant news in the next year. A collection that makes headlines will be worth the most points. And, of course, you’ll want to keep track of your own. Next year, we’ll collaborate with all participants and tally up scores. The first winner will be announced by the guest speaker.”

“What if we don’t make the news?” someone shouts. 

Dark Angel shrugs. “Then you’re not a very good collector, are you?” The crowd ‘oohs’ in response. 

You take another sip of your drink. They’re definitely not talking about fucking Cocoa Puffs, that’s for sure. 

“Before we move on, some final notes. The last day for a body to qualify will be a week before the convention. No last-minute points will be counted, especially near or on convention grounds. We don’t shit where we eat, right?” She pauses for maximum effect. You start to feel sick again, and not because of the vodka. Something is seriously wrong here. 

“With that out of the way, I’d like to invite our panel members on stage. Please welcome Scratch, Highlander, Uncle Charlie, and our youngest member to date, FUBAR!” Four men take their seats behind the table on stage. 

“Uncle Charlie and Scratch are two of our oldest members. FUBAR and Highlander are two of our newest. Now, I’ll be moderating questions and moving the discussion along, but the rest I will leave up to the four of you.  Let’s start with an easy one. What inspired you to begin collecting?” Dark Angel asks. 

FUBAR answers first, proudly motioning to the American flag pin on his jacket. “I joined the military out of high school, and let me just say, they let you do anything once you’re off base. They’re basically giving you step-by-step instructions on how to get away with murder. And I’m good at it! Why would being discharged stop me?”

“A war machine making war machines,” Dark Angel comments wistfully. “What about you, Scratch?” 

Scratch is a middle-aged man wearing a stained tank top and cargo shorts. His steel-toe construction boots stick out like clown shoes under the table. His arms and legs are covered in cuts and scrapes in various stages of healing.

“Well, shit,” he starts, “I never did get professional training. S’mostly just compulsion, I guess. Can’t fuckin’ stand the girlies… Only way to shut ‘em up is tearin’ their throats out, apparently!” Scratch guffaws, and the crowd laughs. 

Okay, now you’re going to throw up. It’s no wonder The Corinthian is the guest speaker- you literally met him in the middle of killing someone. Your blood runs cold. Every person in this room has killed. Even you, come to think of it. 

You stumble blindly out of the auditorium and immediately throw up in a large potted plant beside the door. You need to get back to your room, like now. 

“Rough night?” someone behind you asks. You turn and see a younger guy with long black hair staring at the plant in front of you. His name tag reads Blade Runner. You don’t really want to know why. 

“Yeah,” you reply weakly. He reaches for your hand and pulls you up to stand next to him. “I should probably just go to bed.” 

Blade Runner doesn’t let go of your arm. “You know, I’ve got just the thing to sober you up. In my room, of course.” He smiles, revealing a row of impossibly sharp teeth. He pulls you closer to himself and you both make your way towards the elevator. “Now, don’t go causing trouble for me, please.”

“O-okay,” you whisper. The ride up is silent, save for the stereotypically quiet elevator jazz in the background. You briefly consider pressing the alarm button, but assume Blade should be considered armed and dangerous. 

When the doors open on the fourth floor, he shoves you roughly into the hallway. Your vodka sloshes onto the carpet. 

“I’m in 1419,” he says, and you follow the room numbers down to the last door on the right. Your entire body is screaming to make a run for it, but you’re both intoxicated and unarmed. Like an idiot. 

The walls are covered in old black and white photos, pinned with notes attached to each of them. You recognize some of the convention members. He’s been keeping track of them, stalking them. 

“Impressed?” You hear him behind you, but it’s too late. Excruciating pain radiates from the crown of your skull, and then nothing.

For the first time in over a century, you dream. Well, not really. But for once it’s not just black.

You’re in a landscape of black sand, with mountains lining the horizon. Enormous ivory gates rise up in front of you, carved with details you do not understand. 

You nervously walk forward, placing your hands to push them open. The doors creak ominously, but do not move. 

“Hello?” you shout. “Is somebody there?”

Silence. 

“Where the fuck am I…” you mutter, stepping back to analyze the carvings. 

You’ve returned, a voice echoes around you. 

“I’ve never been here before,” you reply. “I don’t know what this is.” 

The ground begins to rumble beneath you. The gates are shaking now, almost vibrating. You can see a sliver of sky between them as they open. 

A shadowy, black figure is standing on the other side. You get the feeling you should already know who they are, but your brain simply won’t place the name. 

 You will remember.

[parkers-gal]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeHva3Te/

This could be so good with Tom. Imagine you’re shopping with the boys as well 🤍

stop 😭 😭 he’d get so flustered bye

( for those of u who don’t wanna watch the tiktok, it’s captioned “when your boyfriend wears sweats to target so you try to get him hard at every chance u get” )

(that being said, this is a warning for major boners & boner related talks, lol)

wc: 1.3k

—

A quick trip to the supermarket meant neither you nor Tom (or any of the other boys, for that matter) bothered with changing into appropriate clothes. You basically went in your pajamas — for you, that meant Tom’s hoodie and flannel pants. For Tom, however, that meant his favorite jumper, a beanie, and a sexy pair of grey sweatpants.

Tom sits beside you in the driver’s seat, once again debating with Harry if the house needs another set of ridiculous pots for the backyard garden. It’s been an ongoing debate of “we need fairy-themed ones!” to “the ones we have are perfectly fine!” You’re not sure if you should get involved at all.

A buzz in your pocket alerts you that someone must have texted you, so you pull your phone out. In a text, your friend had sent you a TikTok and added her own message.

aisha: this is so something u would do

Intrigued, you tap on the link. It successfully takes you to the app, and after impatiently waiting, you watch as the girl in the video teases her boyfriend in various places in the supermarket. You smirk to yourself, glancing up to make sure nobody else has managed to see what you’re viewing on your phone. Quickly, you save the video and text your friend back.

you: im so doing this. we’re heading to the store now. i’ll update with the vid soon.

Not a second later, she responds.

aisha: you’re evil.

aisha: and i envy you

The next ten minutes go by in a blur. You figure out how to format the video and, after brief bickering between Sam and Harrison about who gets to sit in the cart, the six of you pile into the store.

You head to the produce section first. (You’re not sure why. Every single time, you tell them the delicate vegetables should be piled on top of everything else, meaning you attend to this section of the store last. It seems like nobody else cares about squished tomatoes, though.)

The boys split up; Harry and Tuwaine team up on the broccoli section, managing to get the gross Brussel sprouts Tom loves more than you. Harrison goes off towards the fruits and Sam stays put in the cart.

Tom manages to take control of where the cart is going and he parks in front of the barrel of onions. Sam holds open the bag while Tom picks and chooses the ones he wants. Pondering how to go about this, you finally decide to just go for it.

“Don’t get that one,” you interject, stepping forward. “Get this one, and the one over there.”

Tom nods, not thinking much about the situation. You decide to keep moving forward, but instead of going around the cart, you squeeze yourself in between the shelves and Tom, successfully rubbing up against his crotch. Faintly, you hear his breath hitch, and after walking away, you quickly turn around to see Tom. You’ve ducked from his view, but he’s staring at where you just were, exhaling deeply and trying to maintain his composure.

You know this “look” better than anything. Quickly, you whip out your phone and begin recording the first part of your TikTok. You snicker to yourself, watching as Tom sets the bag of onions in the cart and quickly puts his hands in front of his crotch. You’re knee-deep in your own laughter when Harry and Tuwaine curiously come up to you.

Hastily, you shut your phone off and shove it in your pocket, standing up straight and acting as normal as possible.

“What was-”

“Nothing. Did you guys get the lettuce?”

“Yeah…” Harry trails off suspiciously. They decide to let it slide, and the three of you make your way back over to the cart.

“We done here?” Tuwaine asks. Murmured yes’s float around and the six of you leave the produce section and head off to the pharmacy section of the store.

“Do we need more toothpaste?”

“No, but we need more floss.”

“Ugh. Mouth stuff,” Harry groans.

You step closer to Tom, phone in hand, and you lean close to his ear. “Maybe we could do some mouth stuff later.” You whisper.

Tom’s eyes go wide and he looks at you in shock. You wear a proud smirk and grip your phone tighter, leaning close to him again and getting ready to record his reaction. “Y’know? Maybe I could suck your-”

“Stop it, Y/N,” he says firmly, eyeing you. You shrug in response, still wearing a proud smirk.

“What?” You say innocently.

Tom gets desperate and, after a few seconds, puts his hands on his knees for support — and paints it as if he’s leaning down to look for something on the shelf.

“Tom, mate, you good?” Harrison asks.

Tom looks up, exhales harshly, and nods. “Yep,” he stands, waddling off to another part of the aisle where you record, away from everyone else.

“What are you doing?” he whisper-shouts at you, still somewhat leaning on his knees.

“Nothing, daddy,” you say innocently. His eyes widen and he groans again, this time looking up at the ceiling in despair.

“Whatever game you two are playing, I really don’t want to be a part of it.” Harrison strides over.

“Yeah, you two have been acting weird all day. What’s up with that?” Sam asks.

You turn to Tom, teasingly clicking your tongue as a motivator for him to respond. “Yeah, Tommy. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he says through clenched teeth and a forced smile.

Harry rolls his eyes and moves the cart to the next aisle, the rest of the boys trailing behind him. You and Tom linger a little longer.

“What’s on your mind, Tommy?”

“Nothing,” he seethes, leaning over again to conceal any bulge that may be visible.

“Oh yeah,” you stroke his cheek with a giggle before running a hand through his curls. “What’s going through that big brain of yours?” He only eyes you, and you bite your lip. “Something dirty?” You whisper.

“Y/N,” he drags on, whining.

“What?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He squeezes his eyes shut.

“What?” You whisper back. “It’s not my fault you’re thinking of fucking me.”

“Jesus Christ love,” he goes back into his leaning position. You giggle again, being another recording for your tiktok.

“Shouldn’t have worn sweats,” you say quietly. “Why did you wear sweats?”

“Because I’m stupid,” he groans an “ugh,” and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “I’m a div, that’s why.”

You chuckle again, “Yeah, you are.”

“You’re evil,” he looks up. “And you’re recording this! I can’t believe you.”

“What?” You tease. “Not my fault you’re hard.”

“Yes it is!” he gasps, locking eyes with you. “Is that why you’re teasing me? Is this another one of those tickey clock things?”

“What?” You laugh in bewilderment, looking at your boyfriend as if he’s crazy.

“You know what I mean! Those- those prank your boyfriend videos!”

“...Yes…”

“Y/N!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim with a smile. “It’s just fun to see you all flustered for me,” you run a hand through his hair, and he eventually stands straight, successfully calming himself down. “You good?”

“Mhm,” he nods at you, reaching for one of your hands.

“Good,” you smile with a glint he almost recognizes.

“What’re you-”

“Let’s go to the lube section.”

“Y/NNN!”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 23 - Surrender [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever.

The possibility of you sitting with a killer who had sworn to destroy you was scary for sure, but thinking that the said killer could be much closer to you than you had thought was enough to make your blood freeze in your veins.

It was as if you were going through the same thing that had happened with your dad ages ago, but with a small difference;

Your dad had never tried to hurt you, but this time the killer was coming after you.

Spencer stood beside you as you exhaled the smoke of your cigarette into the air, your hands still shaky but you forced yourself to focus on the police and the FBI escorting people out of the building while he kept his gaze on you.

“You might be wrong though?” you managed to ask, looking up at him, “Right? Maybe it’s not—maybe it’s not someone as close to me?”

Spencer heaved a sigh, “We need more evidence, but you need to keep that in mind that it is possible. I mean— it makes more sense than it being just a stranger, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t agree that I’ve had the misfortune to be close with two serial killers throughout my life, no,” you murmured through frozen lips, “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I was doomed to survive one serial killer to be killed by another.”

“I will never let that happen.”

You took another drag of your cigarette, “I have a feeling the killer might end up not asking for your permission, professor,” you stated and turned your head when you heard the sound of heels coming closer. Mina ran a hand over her face, clearing her throat.

“I sent Kenz away from here,” Mina said and it didn’t escape your notice how she was deliberately avoiding giving any details, just in case. “We’ll regroup at mom’s place, you, me and mom.”

“Just us?”

Mina clicked her tongue, “All things considered,” she murmured, “So I’m not going to beat around the bush; we both agree that it’s not Kenzie right?”

You nodded, “Clearly,” you said and pulled your brows together, “Wait, we’re sure it’s not Kenzie but we still suspect each other?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Mina asked back and you shifted your weight, looking down at the cigarette in your hand.

“Mina, I don’t—”

“Listen, it’s not the place for this conversation,” she interrupted you, “Mom’s place, half an hour.”

“That might not be the best idea,” Spencer said, looking between you two and Mina scoffed.

“It’s not our first rodeo with a serial killer among us, Dr. Reid,” she said, “I already gave a list of my alibis to your colleagues, so did my mother. There’s nothing to keep us here.” She nodded at you, “Don’t be late, we have a lot to talk about.”

With that, she walked away from you two and grabbed her keys from the valet while you stubbed your cigarette.

“So did you check everyone’s alibis?”

“Yeah, at least the people close to you,” Spencer said, “They all look solid.”

You raised your brows, “But?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, “I need to go over all the files, all the recordings with your father—”

“I don’t think it’s my father who’s behind this. Not this time, and not at the cabin. He wouldn’t dare.”

He frowned, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Well think about what happened the last time I-“ you snapped your fingers, “Right. You weren’t there.”

“What happened? Luke just said you walked away because your father got on your nerve.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you muttered and motioned at the valet to give him your ticket so that he could bring your car, “Listen, I gotta go. Mom is probably at home and Mina is going there and I can’t….I need to talk to them.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“Spencer, it’s my family we’re talking about,” you insisted, “I can’t— if I start suspecting them too, I have nothing left to hold on to.”

He opened his mouth to disagree but you saw Luke coming closer to both of you.

“Hey, Rossi says we need to get back to the office. Emily and Tara are already there,” he told Spencer and turned to you, “We need to stop meeting like this, trust fund baby.”

“Dude, you guys are the ones who show up and scream murder everywhere I go.”

Luke chuckled, holding up his hands and mocking surrender while valet pulled over in front of you.

“Here you go ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a small smile before you looked up at Spencer. “I’ll see you later I guess.”

“Call me when you get there, we’re also sending a car to your mother’s place and your place just to be sure.”

You nodded, heaving a sigh and Spencer squeezed your arm as if to assure you before pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Be careful.”

“Hey I was trained by a serial killer, how many people can say that?” you tried to joke as you walked to your car, “I’ll be fine.”

You got into your car and valet closed it, then you started the car and drove off.

                                                 ***

The living room was completely silent in your mother’s house. In fact, the whole house was silent, the only noise was the constant ticking of the huge clock on the wall while all three of you sat still, waiting for someone else to talk. Your mother drummed her fingernails on the table, something she would reprimand you for doing if it were another time, Mina bit inside her cheek, her gaze fixed on the wall and you downed the whiskey in your glass, then filled it again.

“Okay,” Mina said and sat up straighter and looked between you, “I just want to say, if it was someone in this room this whole time, we can- I can fix this.”

“Jesus Christ, Mina!”

“You can’t possibly suspect-“

“We’ll say it was dad’s influence, we’ll call it trauma after-“

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I’m just saying, if it is one of us, it’s dad’s fault.”

“It’s not one of us!” you insisted but then you turned your head when you heard the doorbell ring. The sound of heels came closer and Mina threw her head back as soon as Kenzie walked inside.

“Kenz, I told you to-“

“Yeah, spare me the bullshit, I came as soon as I made sure Lily was alright and safe,” she waved a hand in the air and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Kenzie, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why? So that all of you can dramatically blame each other? I know how you guys get, there’s not an ounce of logic between the three of you.”

Your mom heaved a sigh and got the whiskey bottle from you, “What did Spencer say again?”

“That it was possible it was someone at our table. It’d make more sense than it being a stranger.”

“So either one of us, or Lincoln, or Nolan.”

Your mom gasped, “Nolan had nothing to do with that!”

“Just saying, it wouldn’t be the first time some man you loved didn’t turn out to be the man he pretends to be-“

“Mina, low blow,” you cleared your throat and your mother narrowed her eyes.

“I know it’s not him.”

“Then it has to be Lincoln.”

You let out a small laugh, “Dude, don’t you remember what he was like when we were children? He cried when he saw me scrape my knees and his mom had to take him away.”

“People change.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if one of my best friends were a serial killer, Mina.”

“He came late to the auction.”

“So did all of you!” you insisted, “You don’t see me blaming you- by that logic where were you?”

“Are you kidding me? My meeting took longer than I expected, go check my security camera footage. Where were you?”

“Mina!”

“I was literally talking to Spencer while it was happening!”

“Are you two seriously blaming each other?” Kenzie gawked at you and Mina shrugged her shoulders before turning to your mother.

“How about you mom?”

“What is this, an Agatha Christie novel?” your mother asked, exasperated, “Ask the driver, it took us more than an hour to get there because of the accident.”

“It could be anyone in that auction hall, yes, including someone in this room but they checked our alibis. Spencer said it was a possibility, not that it was certain,” you managed to say, “They still need more evidence and I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to start blaming the only people in my life that I actually trust.”

A silence fell upon you and Kenzie sat down beside you, then filled herself a drink as well.

“The moment we start blaming each other, we’re lost,” she said, looking Mina in the eye, “Your dad almost tore this family apart once, don’t let this copycat do the same. It’s not one of us and you know it.”

“No one is blaming you Kenz,” you rasped out and Mina ran a hand over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “Jesus, I’m— it’s just that… It fucks with my head.”

“You get used to it,” you sipped your drink and turned to your mother, “For what it’s worth, I really don’t think it’s Nolan either. I mean what are the chances of getting married to a serial killer twi—“ you stopped talking as soon as Kenzie kicked you under the table and Mina gasped, shooting you a look as you covered your mouth. Your mother stared at you, her jaw dropping and you cleared your throat, trying your hardest to come up with something.

“I mean—“ you stammered, “I’m drunk and I just saw Spencer being all hot and whispering in my ear after there was a murder so my feelings are all over the place, I don’t know what I—“

“Now that she fucked up first, I can say it.” Mina said, “Nolan will ask you to marry him.”

“I was un-fucking it!” You hissed and Mina scoffed.

“You haven’t un-fucked a thing in your goddamn life.”

“I can’t believe this is how I’m finding out about this,” your mother breathed out, still staring at you two and you let out a whine, burying your face into your hands.

“I’m sorry!” your voice came out muffled and Kenzie let out a giggle, patting your arm as you raised your head again, “I- well- my dad was a serial killer!”

“What is that, your out of jail card?” Mina asked, “The same guy was also my dad but you don’t see me giving out secrets and spoiling surprises.”

“When did he say that to you?” Your mother asked, sitting up straight, “Y/N, you’re telling me everything right now!”

“I saw my ex looking hot tonight and someone got murdered while I was flirting with him, I’m allowed to mess up once or twice!”

“That’s a strange way of describing your whole life.”

“Shut up Mina or I swear—“

“Y/N!”

“He asked for my blessing and I said yes,” you murmured, “So did Mina and Kenzie. But I think we all threatened him first, right?”

“Nope, you’re the creepy one in this group.”

“Yeah I think it was just you.”

“Fine! Okay, I threatened him first,” you admitted as your mother stared at you, “In my defense, I was also pretty drunk back then because of my break up with the love of my life, in case anyone at this table forgot—“

“I wish. Maybe I could try to forget it if you stopped talking about it for five fucking minutes though.”

“Babe!”

“And my serial killer father—“

“Having daddy issues isn’t an excuse to be a snitch, bitch.”

“Mina, stop insulting your sister for a moment,” your mother told her and turned to you, “What did he tell you?”

“That he has been in love with you for… I don’t know, centuries because he’s like a five hundred years old vampire.”

“He feeds on money though, not blood.” Mina pointed out, “I actually can see him as an evil lord somewhere, now that you mentioned.”

“Getting information from this family is a nightmare,” your mother heaved a sigh, “And?”

“And nothing. Make sure to get your nails done when he takes you on a dinner now that we all gave him our blessing but I’m so not planning your wedding, my client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse Y/N,” Kenzie reminded helpfully and your mother shook her head.

“Oh but I can’t possibly—“ she heaved a sigh, “I can’t marry him yet.”

Instantly, all three of you turned to him with the same surprised expression on your faces.

“…Were you gonna hit it and quit it mom?”

Your mother pinched the bridge of her nose “Mina, what is wrong with you tonight?”

“I have no idea. Is this what being traumatized is?”

“Yeah welcome to the club, I’ve been here for a while,” you waved your hands in the air, “Mom, I thought you loved Nolan. Don’t you?”

“No, I’m completely in love with him!” your mother said quickly, “He’s the best man I’ve ever known or been with.”

“Meh, let’s not pretend the bar is—“ Mina started but stopped talking when Kenzie elbowed her, “Sorry. I’m just going to keep drinking over here to keep my mouth busy.”

“But?”

“Sweetie, I can’t get married when…” your mother gestured at you, “When you haven’t found a partner yet!”

You made a face, “Why did we teleport into Jane Austen times all of a sudden?”

“No, you know what people would say.”

“Since when does that stop you?” you asked her, “Come on, who the fuck cares what anyone thinks? They can all go to hell.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the thought but-“

“Mom,” you said, “I might just end up alone, okay? You can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for me to get married or find a partner or something just because of some stupid unwritten rule. Fuck those people, let them talk.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to have an actual wedding either.”

“Who’s coming up with these rules?” Mina exclaimed, “Mom, do whatever you want. This family threw appropriate out of the window long ago.”

Kenzie nodded fervently, “People will always find something to criticize, you can’t let that get to you. If you love him, go for it.”

“But wait for him to propose first, I have a feeling it’ll be the biggest ring I’ve ever seen,” you clinked your glass with hers and wiggled your brows, “Can I please be the one to tell dad though? I want to record the look of devastation on his face. I’ll make it my wallpaper.”

                                                  ***

The next day, you tried your hardest to focus on work. Even if Spencer’s words kept echoing in your ears, you couldn’t help but think that he had to be wrong.

Maybe he was. Maybe it was someone else in the hall, other than your family or Nolan or Lincoln. It was impossible for you to suspect anyone in your family, and Nolan and Lincoln had had more than enough time to be alone with you and hurt you, but neither of them had given you any sign of being dangerous.

Besides, you were sure that after spending so much time with your father, you’d be able to tell if it was someone around you.

Or at least you hoped so.

You took a sip of your rosé and bit inside your cheek, staring at your dinner table in the middle of the living room which now looked like something pulled out of a horror movie. You heaved a sigh, holding your hand over the various types of knives, the memory flashing in your head.

“Alright Petal,” your father tugged you by the hand so that you could get closer to the coffee table full of knives, “Let’s see if you studied like I told you, hm?”

“I have!” you gave him a bright smile before you bit at the stick candy and he raised his brows.

“Honey, don’t bite at candy, you’ll ruin your teeth.”

“No I won’t,” you said stubbornly, still holding the candy tight, “I’ll brush my teeth afterwards.”

He heaved a sigh and grabbed a blade off the table, then held it up.

“What is this?”

“A trench knife,” you said, looking at the handle that looked more like brass knuckles your father had shown you before, “You can hold it over your fingers so it’s better for…for…”

“Close combat.”

You nodded, still chewing on the candy and your father put it back, then showed you another.

“This?”

“Push dagger!”

“How do we use push dagger?”

“When you hold it in your palm, the blade is between your fingers.”

“So that…?”

“So that the prey can’t see it until it’s too late.”

He nodded, “You really did pay attention, Petal,” he commented and you giggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet and turned the candy in your mouth as he held up another blade.

“This?”

“Butterfly knife!” you said and motioned at him, “I want that one.”

“Because it’s called a butterfly?”

“Daddy I love butterflies!”

He smiled, then grabbed another from the table, “Do you know what it is?”

“Another butterfly knife?”

“No honey, this is called a trainer, see?” he showed you, “I want you to practice with this first. It has no knife, so you won’t be cutting yourself until I say you can switch to an actual one.”

You clicked your tongue, twirling the butterfly knife between your fingers, the motion almost automatic. You had become so good at it when you were a child that you didn’t even need to think about how to flip the knife after all these years, your hands already remembered it.

“Trench knife, push dagger,” you counted slowly as the thunder lit up the dark sky outside, “Good for close combat, good for stealth….Stiletto, good for deeper wounds. Bowie is good for—“ you were cut off when you heard someone banging their fist on the door. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and you flipped the butterfly knife in your hand, approaching the door but as soon as you looked through the peephole, your stomach made a happy flip.

“Spencer?” you muttered and opened the door, “What’re you—”

“Are you insane?” he cut you off, glaring daggers at you and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?” you asked as he walked past you into the apartment and you closed the door before following him. He ran a hand through his curls, clearly the rain outside had made his hair even messier and he turned around to say something, but then got distracted.

“Why are you holding a butterfly knife?” he asked and you flipped it again before throwing it on the table and he frowned at the sight on the table.

“What the hell is this?”

“Uh, butterfly knife, trench knife,” you pointed with your finger as you counted them, “That’s a stiletto knife, that’s a switch blade, right next to it is a push dagger and the one over there is called—“

“I know what they are, why am I looking at them?”

You arched a brow, “Take a guess.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” you let out a bitter laugh, “I’m done taking it lying down, okay? Last night was the last straw, if that copycat wants to come after me, I say let them. The man who they’re looking up to was the same man who trained me for my whole childhood, I like these odds.”

“Yeah?” he scoffed, his eyes narrowed in anger, “Is that why you threatened one of the most dangerous serial killers of our time?”

You tilted your head, “My father?”

He threw his hands in the air, frustration getting the best of him,

“Yes, your father!”

“So you basically ran all the way here to yell at me because I threatened my father?” you asked as you walked past him, then grabbed your wine glass and leaned back to the table, “Don’t worry professor, it’s a family thing. We’re impulsive. He’ll be fine, unfortunately.”

He ran a hand over his face, “What were you thinking?”

“To be honest with you, I kind of wasn’t thinking,” you pointed out before you took a sip of your wine, “How is he these days, by the way?”

“I’m glad you find this entertaining,” he said through his teeth, “Because I can assure you, this is not funny.”

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.”

He took a deep breath as if he was trying to control himself, “You think threatening a serial killer with murder is funny?”

“I mean have you seen the look on his face? I don’t know if the video got that but—“

“Why did you break up with me?”

Well, Spencer had a way of taking you by surprise, that was for sure. You lowered the glass and blinked a couple of times, trying to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Why did you break up with me if you were going to threaten a damn serial killer because he implied he might come after me?”

“I hope you know that normal exes don’t have these kind of conversations,” you tried to joke but he only raised his brows.

“Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you heaved a sigh “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said, his voice almost too low, “You just don’t want me to know what I’m talking about.”

“Listen, I know how it might look like but I can assure you I’d do it for any—“

“Garcia was with me while I was watching those tapes.”

Your eyes snapped up to his as your breath got caught in your throat. You swallowed thickly, painfully aware of how he was probably seeing all your tells but even that thought didn’t stop you from drumming your fingernails on the fragile glass you were holding, pursing your lips for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“What—um—what did she say?”

“You mean before or after she said you broke up with me to protect me even if I’m an FBI agent already working on this case?”

God damn it Garcia.

The thunder boomed outside again and you frantically tried to find the right words, but it felt impossible to do so. He took a step closer to you while you stared at him, completely frozen and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Spencer…” you muttered as you opened your eyes again, “Whatever training they gave you, trust me, they didn’t train you for my father.”

“Is that why you said all that stuff back then?” he asked slowly, “When we broke up?”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“Yes it does.”

A sad smile pulled at your lips as you put your wine glass down, and shrugged your shoulders.

“I thought—um, I thought it I hurt you that badly, you’d never want to see me again,” you admitted, “So if you were away from me, you’d be safe. Away from my father, away from the copycat, away from all of this. Working on this case is not the same as being caught in this fucked up web, you know that.”

“You didn’t think you should’ve at least asked my opinion on this?”

“You would’ve said no.”

“Of course I would’ve said no!”

“Exactly!” you threw up your hands, “You might not care about your survival in this situation, but I do, okay? I love you too much to let you get hurt because of me—” as soon as your brain acknowledged what had just slipped from your lips, you stopped talking, your breathing getting faster while panic seemed to flood your system. He stared at you, a soft light appearing in his eyes and you shook your head at yourself.

“Fucking great,” you muttered, “Yeah, um you— I’m— it doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want to do with that information.”

You took a step to walk past him but he had already grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Before you could even ask him what he was doing, his lips found yours, letting that warmth shoot through your stomach into your whole system. The feeling was so sudden but so mind numbing that you thought Spencer was right before, this was definitely like a drug, an addiction. His fingers caressed over your neck while your body pressed against his like some sort of a magnet and a soft whine escaped from you as he pulled back slightly.

“Don’t run away,” he whispered against your lips “Not this time.”

You felt the tears rushing to your eyes. “Spencer-“

“I love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you murmured before he stole another kiss from you.

“I love you,” he repeated, his hazel eyes locked in yours, “And I’m done pretending like I don’t.”

It was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew it would put him in danger, but none of that seemed to matter to you after hearing that he loved you. For some reason, you were convinced that you two would find a way, that everything would be alright as long as you loved each other, naïve as it was.

The happiness burst through you, wrapping you in a soft and warm haze as you reached back with one hand to sweep everything off the table, sending all the knives to the floor with a loud noise before you jumped to sit on the table. A small chuckle left his lips when you tugged at his jacket and he tilted his head.

“What, you don’t have a bed?” he taunted you and you grinned.

“The bed can wait,” you murmured as he dragged his fingertips up your bare legs to pull you closer to him, drawing a giggle from your lips before he kissed you again.

Chapter 24

[hippolotamus]

I posted 2,590 times in 2022

That's 2,187 more posts than 2021!

370 posts created (14%)

2,220 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stereopticons

@farm-witches-fic-recs

@rmd-writes

@apothecarose

@stationoneeighteen

I tagged 2,439 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#💙🦛 - 430 posts

#eddie diaz - 157 posts

#^ - 144 posts

#hippo answers - 131 posts

#hippo writes - 91 posts

#evan buckley - 85 posts

#buddie - 71 posts

#david x patrick - 70 posts

#thanks for asking! - 54 posts

#stereopticons - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#they're both so excited to start this new thing regardless of whatever today's drama is and they both like each other so much

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Intimate romance prompt "scolding your soon-to-be lover for almost getting themselves killed, your lover asking you why care so much" please 😘💕

For you and @alysiswriting who also requested this prompt! 💙🦛

Wish on your lucky stars ('cause it's all you got) | Rated: T | 2929 words

No, no, no, no, no. Shit. Fuck. Goddammit.  

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Patrick was meant to do a simple recon. In, out, done. He nearly achieves that, leaving the Bennet compound in under an hour. For unknown reasons, he changes course at the last minute to go back inside. That decision cost him dearly when he seemingly sets off a sensor, triggering a blast that throws him across the property.

Christ, David’s not even supposed to fucking be here. He should be on another continent, deluding diamond smugglers into believing he’s trustworthy. But, it was a 19-hour difference between seeing Patrick or having to wait another two months. To David there was no other choice. Now that he’s here, watching a barely conscious Agent Brewer, he knows he made the correct decision. 

Blood is oozing, slow and syrupy, from Patrick’s thigh. David can see some surface level scratches on his face. Honestly he’s a lot more concerned with what isn’t visible. Patrick is on his side against the cobblestone pathway, wincing and attempting to curl forward so he can put pressure on his leg. David’s stomach turns with every wounded noise Patrick makes. He’s heard that mouth moan, hum and spew a litany of filthy words and phrases but always in moments of pleasure. David’s never heard him like this. 

David’s fully aware how much is at stake if he exposes himself to help, someone could show up for Agent Brewer any moment. Still, the pull is so, so overwhelming. He feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin if he has to stay like this much longer. They come together like two magnets any time they happen to be in the same area. It seems inevitable that one day it was going to happen this way. David recalls Patrick’s fall from the cliff, how fucking helpless he felt. It doesn’t have to be that way this time. 

He sucks in a deep breath, and runs.

“Patrick?" David kneels next to him, hoping he's not too late. "If I help, do you think you can walk at all?”

A long groan escapes in place of an answer. Patrick looks up, eyes barely open. David thinks he sees a flicker of recognition, but then Patrick’s eyelids flutter shut. 

“No. Fuck! Not today. Jesus Christ, not now.” David pleads, quickly arranging his arms under Patrick’s limp body, lifting him off the ground, and holding him as tightly as the injuries will allow. He doesn’t even care about the blood smearing his clothes right now; only about ignoring the wounded noises rumbling against his chest, and getting somewhere safe.

Finally, they make it to David’s car, waiting just over the hill where he left it. He arranges Patrick neatly in the passenger seat of the Aston Martin, making sure he’s secure. The moment David slams the driver’s side door shut, he’s got Ronnie on speed dial. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane or something?” The gravelly voice complains.

“No time to explain. I need you to get Ted and tell him to be ready. I’ll be there in ten.”

“David, what the hell is going on?”

“Shut up, and do the thing!” David spits, ending the call. 

“D’vid?” Wha-?” 

“Just hang on. I’ve got you. Just promise me you’ll hang on, Patrick.” 

🔍 🔍 🔍 🔍 🔍

Six minutes later David pulls into the lower garage, barely putting the car in park before scrambling to get out. Dr. Mullens dutifully rushes over to help retrieve Patrick while David recounts what information he has. Ted, ever the loyal confidant, doesn’t ask any questions about how Agent Brewer has come to be in his care. He, and one of his assistants, swiftly transport Patrick away to begin their work. 

“I probably don’t really wanna know, but what the hell is that man doing here?” Ronnie asks, far too calmly for David’s liking. 

“I’m going to need a stiff drink for this conversation.” David pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks inside, navigating his way to the bar. “Can I get you something?”

Ronnie ignores any attempts to smooth things over in favor of reaching past him for the Macallan Lalique 57 and pouring herself a generous serving. When she possessively slides the bottle closer to where she’s sitting, David opts for the Macallan 71, reveling in the smooth burn as it slides down his throat. 

“So, about Brewer. Spill it.” 

David positions himself on the leather topped barstool, resting one foot on the rungs and letting the other dangle carelessly. He’s been waiting for this day, when he would be found out, hoping in equal measure that it would never happen and for the opportunity to stop hiding. “He was on an assignment that went sideways. I happened to be there, saw he was hurt, and brought him here.”

With another gulp of her whiskey, Ronnie glares at him. “And why were you there instead of on a plane to Cameroon?”

He mirrors her, taking another swallow from his tumbler, steeling himself to answer. David rests the hand with his drink on the bar top, tapping one of his rings against the crystal. “Because I knew Agent Brewer would be there and wanted to make sure Patrick was safe.”

David thinks Ronnie might throttle him if she weren’t so occupied coughing and spluttering on her drink. 

“You what?!” she rasps. “How long–” Another cough cuts off her question. David sighs, reaching behind the bar for a bottle of water and pushing it her way. 

See the full post

33 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#4

For the @schittscreekdrabbleblog prompt Echo

“You’re here with Seb?” the blonde asks.

“That’s what I’m told,” David replies gloomily, trying in vain to blink away the club haze. “Why?”

“Never understood how someone that in love with himself gets so many people to date him. No offense.”

He wants to argue that he’s different from all the other notches on Sebastien’s bedpost, but David knows he’s not.

“Guess that makes me Echo,” he mutters.

“Come, David.” Sebastien sneers, snapping his fingers like he’s calling a dog. A faithful pet he’s still somehow disappointed to find waiting for him. “Time to leave.”

Time to leave, David.

34 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#3

If you like Fashion & Baseball | Rating: M | a strangers to best friends to strangers to lovers journey

Patrick Brewer has spent every day since their high school graduation thinking about David Rose. How everything went wrong with confessing his feelings, and how he let David walk away. Through a surprise notification he is unexpectedly reconnected with David. Can Patrick persuade his former best friend to rekindle what they had and maybe become something more? ⚡️ ⚾️

Chapter 1 coming soon as part of @finish-it-fest

45 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

#2

For the intimacy prompt

tracing fingers down your partner's chest

Ok, ummm, all I can say is Thank You for this. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did 💙🖤

In all the years of artfully sneaking around for missions, Patrick Brewer never thought his expertise would lead him here. At least, not as many times as it has.

The hotel ballroom must have close to 800 people, but he’s already seen the one he’s after. Patrick knows he’s been spotted, too. They’ve been chasing each other around the globe - from Mexico to Monaco, South Africa to Saskatchewan, and everywhere between - for years now. This dance is familiar and they’re intimately acquainted with how the steps go. 

Patrick sips his sparkling champagne, peering over the rim, and meeting familiar dark eyes standing on the upper balcony. One delicate hand, with olive skin and silver rings, lifts a champagne flute from the railing in a silent toast across the sea of otherwise ignorant partygoers. Patrick’s target raises a single dark eyebrow, then tilts the glass to his lips, draining it in one go. He replaces the vessel and smirks in Patrick’s direction before turning to walk away. Patrick recognizes it for the signal it is, sitting his now empty glass on a passing server’s tray. 

As if by intuition alone, his feet carry him up the staircase, past eclectic older dealers arguing whether a Van Gogh or a Cézzane will fetch more, young heiresses flirting shamelessly, and the occasional solo chap watching them. The stream of people thins the further Patrick walks, the lights becoming more spread out, leaving shadowy patches between. The electric glow of an Exit sign catches his eye, and he’s just about to turn back when he finds himself tugged into a dark alcove, pinned to the wall. 

Patrick smirks, noting the warm, spicy scent now surrounding him. It should make him wary, but that sensation stopped long ago, replaced by want and lust. “Rose, we meet again.”

“So we do, Mr. Brewer,” a voice purrs in response. “I hope you’ve been well since Denmark.” 

Patrick traces a finger over the curves he’s become so accustomed to, feeling the sleek mother-of-pearl buttons under his skin until he hooks onto the V of the single-breasted tuxedo jacket. “Never better. Should we exchange the usual my country wants you dead pleasantries first or is foreplay off the menu tonight?” 

A singular growl precedes firm hands pinning Patrick’s wrists above his head, warm lips and tongue meeting his own. No matter how many times they’ve done this, it always makes him dizzy. It shouldn’t be this way, he should be capturing David Rose and hand delivering him to the Canadian government. Instead, he always finds himself in total disbelief at how right, and fucking life affirming, it feels to be under David’s control. 

Sometimes, dangerously, he thinks he wants it forever. It only took Patrick mentioning once that he doesn’t sleep with anyone else between their trysts. David went off the grid for over a year before they came crashing back together in a blissful rendezvous where the only sounds were gasps and skin on skin. Patrick fell asleep with David slung across his body, head on his chest, and he thought they turned a corner. But when he woke in the morning, David was nowhere to be found. They didn’t see each other for three months until their paths crossed in Moscow. 

“David,” Patrick pants, too close for comfort to losing his composure like a teenage boy as David grinds their hips together. And he’s not going to do that in a suit that had a comma on the price tag. He’s not. “Please.”

“Want me to stop?” David’s teeth drag over Patrick’s earlobe before scraping along the line of his jaw.

“No?”

David chuckles softly, the vibrations humming against Patrick’s neck. “Are you sure, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick can only hiss in response when David’s hips thrust forward, holding him in place. 

“Well, I’m not getting on my knees for you in a hallway, in this suit,” David’s breath ghosts against the shell of Patrick’s ear. “I know you don’t always follow orders, but be good and meet me in the penthouse. I’ll make it worth your while.”

David presses a searing kiss against his mouth, pulling Patrick’s bottom lip between his teeth, before he retreats into the darkness. Patrick feels adrift without the weight of David to anchor him, even knowing they’ll be tangled together soon. He stands tall, straightening his jacket and adjusting his bowtie. He reaches into his pocket for his phone so he can at least check his hair in the camera. Patrick smiles to himself when his fingers brush over the keycard David slipped in next to it. He taps the card, deciding to abandon checking his reflection, hoping he won’t encounter anyone else important along the way. 

After all, there’s no time to waste when he has a foreign agent to catch.

send me a physical intimacy prompt!

59 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fandom friendship is OMG this wrecked me… let me share it with all my besties so they can hurt too

1,278 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

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[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 21.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Yoongi and Sera heart to heart?, Lots Of Money Thrown Around, A Surprise Guest, Suggestive Content, Crying Yoongi, Fluff

A/N: Always the biggest thanks to my babes @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx, @ppersonna

There is nothing Yoongi hates more than public spectacles. He really detests it.

He hates how fake people are at these events. Especially when they're looking for something to get out of them.

People use these specially coordinated events to prove how much money they have and to show how much better they are then the others attending. It's all smoke and mirrors.

But this event today is different. It's practically painful for him. For him to have to go with the leech and not you… it hurts his entire being.

You didn't speak much at breakfast. You didn't speak at lunch. He could see you practically vibrating with nervousness and it breaks his heart.

He knows you well enough now to know that yesterday won't mean a goddamn thing when you get into the thick of it. When you see the sea of rich stupid fucks -- you'll forget everything. And he can't bear to see your face when it happens.

"I love you," he tells you for the umpteenth time as he fixes his skinny black tie.

The gown that covers your body is simply breathtaking. You're breathtaking.

"I love you too, Yoongi." you whisper, turning to him.

He can hear the nervousness in your voice and it renders him almost incapable of looking at you.

"Y/N." he breathes out.

You smile at him then and he scoffs.

"Don't… Don't do that. Don't do that fake shit with me." he practically begs.

You snort gently, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be positive. But it's hard."

He nods, running his hands over your belly. "I know you are, little dove. Listen, it's only one night and when it's all over I'm going to come into bed and lay with you and only you. I'm going to sleep beside my woman and my child. Alright?"

"YOONGI, LET'S GO!" Sera screams and his eyes flutter shut.

"In a few months, we won't have to be apart. Alright? We can go to these ridiculously tedious events together." he mumbles, tilting your chin up to look at him.

You hum in agreement, nodding to him. He kisses your lips passionately and it grounds you even for a moment. He loves you and you love him. That's what will get you through this evening.

"Just a few hours." you speak aloud, more for yourself than for your boyfriend.

"That's right, gorgeous. Just a few simple hours." he replies, kissing you once more.

"ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"

His teeth grit as he pulls away from you and he shakes his head slowly.

"You'll be having much more fun than me I'm sure. I have to chaperone a kid all night long." he jeers and finally you smile properly.

"Ready Freddy?" Jin asks peeking into your closet.

You hum to him, watching Yoongi fix his suit jacket.

"Just remember how much I love you, hmm?" he quips, bending down to your belly.

"I love you, kiddo. I'll see you in a few hours. Don't miss daddy too much okay, I'll be around." he tells your son, kissing at your clothed stomach.

He scoffs loudly when he hears Sera scream once more. "Stupid fucking bitch," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

"Love you!" you call to him as he leaves.

"And I love you, little dove. So much so it hurts me."

"HELLO?!" Sera screams.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LEECH. I'M COMING. GODDAMN!"

Not even the biggest limo would give Yoongi enough space from his wife.

He can barely stand to look at her. But she takes up such a large chunk of his peripheral vision and her constant huffing and puffing is irritating.

When she huffs again, he just about loses all of his sanity. "What?! Why are you stealing so much oxygen?! Jesus Christ!"

Sera turns to him, scowling at his calm demeanor. "I hate you!" she seethes.

"Same. So stop huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf." he retorts, crossing his legs.

God, he misses you.

Sera watches him pull out his wallet and she can hardly contain her scoff.

His thumb drifts over the sonogram picture and he sighs loudly, leaning back into the leather seat. He misses his son.

"Why did you take my money away?" Sera barks out.

Her grating voice makes him cringe and he feels offended to have to look away from his son's photo to have to look at her. "Because you make enough money on your own and it's time you stop leeching."

The car is riddled with tension and the driver puts up the soundproof glass between them and him. Yoongi finds it fair, he wouldn't want to listen to Sera either.

"That's my money too." Sera bickers.

Yoongi pulls out a cigar, lowering his window. You're not around and he can finally smoke just one again which will probably help with his anxiousness and anger.

"It was your money. Now it is not." he replies simply, lighting the Cuban cigar.

"You were always fine with our arrangement! I don't know what's changed!" his wife scoffs.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut. Fine? He hasn't been fine since their wedding day.

"Excuse me?" he growls, turning to look at her.

"You always seemed like you were perfectly content with us being the way we were. Now everything has changed." she says flippantly, looking down at her nails.

"I fell in love. Of course I wouldn't be happy with you beating me over the head for money and using me for status. After the night before our wedding, I've been stuck with you. You think I wanted to be in a loveless marriage?!" he chastises.

She blushes furiously, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders.

For fucks sake, he cannot get through this night without you. He doesn't know why he pretended he could. You're the only thing tethering him to the fucked up planet and now without you he's going to just fly away.

"Well, you never got rid of me." the actress caterwauls, folding her arms.

Yoongi begins to laugh, ashing his cigar out the window. It's a humorless, cold laugh but a laugh nonetheless.

"I couldn't get rid of you. Because you threaten people and use them for your liking so you can get what you want! You're honestly the most disgraceful, undignified thing I've ever met in my life. You're an actual fucking bloodsucker. You always bitch and complain about Y/N and how she's a 'gold digger' but my woman doesn't even want my fucking money. It's you, who always has. And that's probably the reason why Jin doesn't even fucking want you."

Ouch.

That's gonna sting.

"EXCUSE ME?!" she screeches at the top of her lungs.

It feels good for Yoongi to get all of this off his chest. It feels like the biggest relief in ages. He's always held it in so he wouldn't have to hear her incessant screams but at the end of tonight he'll get to cuddle up in bed with his woman and his growing baby and he couldn't really care any longer.

"Jin. He said you have no relationship to my grandmother because he hates the person you are, Sera. I should tell him about what you did to me the night before our wedding. That'd really make him run for the hills." Yoongi fumes.

Sera is fast, especially in the way she jumps across the whole long limo to sit beside her estranged husband.

"P-Please. Don't tell him." she stutters.

Your boyfriend snorts loudly, clamping the cigar between his teeth and looking down at the sonogram picture once more.

He rolls his eyes gently, this isn't his fight. He couldn't give a care in the world for what Sera wants. He hates her… But if she can get out of his hair…

"Maybe." he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yoongi." Sera whines, grabbing for his wallet.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth, widening his eyes at her. "Never touch my wallet. Never touch my son's pictures." he seethes, pushing himself across to the opposite seat.

Sera swallows thickly, watching his anger expand ten fold. He really loves his baby… As any father should.

"Please don't tell Jin!" she whines, gripping her clutch to her breasts.

He can sense her fear, he can practically see her shiver and it humors him.

"Why not? He already knows you're a bitch." he jeers, lowering the window.

She's an incessant whiner. Apparently when it comes to Seokjin.

"But, I don't want him to look down on me for it."

"And why not? Everyone that knows you already does?" Yoongi jeers.

What's with her being so nervous? Does Seokjin actually mean something to her?

"I want him to… see me differently." she replies, turning her nose up to her husband.

"Then change how you behave. Men don't want a fucking brat every day of their lives. All the men you liked, all the men you've had under your skirt… They didn't really like you. They just wanted your attention for a little while. You have to change yourself. That's what would make a man want you." Yoongi murmurs, throwing his cigar out the window.

"You liked me!" his wife accuses.

"That's before I knew who you actually are. You'll never get a real man if you continue on this way. You'd better make sure Seokjin knows how much you want to be with him or like him for that matter… he will leave the mansion if you don't."

Sera opens her mouth to retort but she can think of nothing. Because Yoongi is right. She's always been this way.

"We're here, Sir Min." Sera's driver announces and he hums in agreement.

"I don't know what the fuck happened to you when you were a kid Kim Sera. But be a better person." the CEO announces, gripping onto the door handle.

The constant bulbs of flashing light remind him of where he is and he groans long and low, shoving the door open.

You really don't want to do this. You struggled against Seokjin the whole way he dragged you to his car.

"If you look upset when you get there, the camera will catch it. What will you do if your son looks back at these pictures from tonight? He's going to see how sad you were, Princess." Jin chastises, pulling up to the large museum.

You're more than grateful for the black tinted windows that shroud you from the flashing lights that seem to assault from all angles.

"God, I hate pictures." you breathe out.

"Just smile and wave, you're an upcoming artist. Think of it that way. Instead of worrying about Yoongi and Sera. Okay?" your best friend asks.

That's a good idea.

"Sesame, we're going to see daddy in a few minutes. Okay?" you whisper, putting your hand to your stomach.

Jin chuckles gently, smoothing his hair down in the rear view mirror. "Good. I like that, just keep thinking about the baby above all." your best friend says finitely, opening his door.

You watch him round the car, smiling and waving handsomely to the many cameras that capture his every move. You take note of this. You can remember a time when you ran away from cameras with Leena around… Maybe you should embrace them this time.

"Okay, let's go bid on some overpriced garbage, Sesame's mom." Seokjin jeers, opening your door.

Planting your foot outside of the car, you accept your best friend's hand to help you climb out. The flashes from the cameras are positively blinding.

"Jesus," you whisper.

"Just smile and wave. Like you own the universe," Jin whispers through clenched teeth as he waves.

You take his advice, smiling and waving to the multitude of people that call for different angles of you.

"MISS THING!"

You turn quickly to the scream, a genuine smile plastering to your face. "Leena Beena!" you whine happily.

She practically throws herself out of the Bugatti she arrived in. You were so nervous about tonight that you didn't even ask who would be here, but now that both of your best friends from childhood are here you can maybe relax. Just a little bit.

"Look at you!" Leena cheers, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands falter to your belly and you roll your eyes at her excitement.

"My nephew is getting so big!" she coos, pulling you towards the entrance.

"Yu Leena," Taehyung calls her, getting out of the Bugatti.

"Look at her belly!" Leena calls back, stamping her feet on the ground.

You give Taehyung a small wave and he does the same, flashing a large smile.

"Come on!" your best friend cheers, pulling you into the museum.

The loud classical music that sweeps through the entire hall makes you feel as if you're at home. You know Yoongi really cherishes classical music, it was a way for him to keep calm after interacting with his parents when he was younger.

"You just stick with me the whole night!" Leena announces, hooking her arm underneath yours.

There's so many faces and so many different colors that you could practically have an overload on your senses. If Leena wasn't practically joined at your hip, you'd want to run away almost immediately.

Your eyes linger on all of the pieces on sale for auction, they're all lined up on carts with white fabric draped over them for secrecy.

"How much of my money are you going to spend?" you hear Taehyung jeer.

Your best friend clicks her teeth, grabbing a champagne glass off a tray as a waiter whizzes by.

"As much as I'd like to, Kim Taehyung." she replies, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"As you wish, my lady." he replies sweetly, winking at you for extra effect.

You find yourself giggling at their silly interactions before your eyes reach your boyfriend. Your stomach rolls at the sight of him hooking his arm around Sera's waist. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to her though, he's having a heated conversation with Jeongguk. Your heart aches at the sight, especially when Sera's hand, adorning her large engagement ring, slides over his shoulder.

To comfort yourself your hand slides below your stomach but it doesn't stop your anxiousness.

It's hard to rip your gaze away. But you only do so when someone calls your name.

"Y/N? Is that correct?"

You feel pitiful when Yoongi doesn't notice you. Like he's in his own world and he couldn't care less about anything around him.

"This is her!" Leena exclaims, turning you towards the voice.

"Y/N, this is So Kyulsoo. He's a very famous art distributor who works with upcoming artists." Taehyung notifies you.

You bow your head to him, trying to find something to smile about. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. So."

"It's me who has the honor! I saw your paintings at Luck Art Studio and I was floored at how simply gorgeous they are." Kyulsoo gushes.

The compliment makes the tips of your ears burn. It's so rare to hear compliments and want to accept them. But the man that stands before you is chic and unyielding.

"Thank you so much, that's so sweet to hear. I'm so glad you liked them." you whisper, clutching onto Leena harder.

"I'd give you my business card but that would be rude at an event like this. I'll call Myeyoung on Monday to talk about buying some of your art!" Kyulsoo says happily, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off a waiters plate.

"That'd be wonderful. She's also creating the art for the new Gangnam Mall and Hotel." Taehyung announces.

You are so not great at business talk but you're grateful for the hotel CEO at this moment.

You watch as Kyulsoo's eyes widen at the news. "Well! I'll have to buy as much art as I can! I think we have a new famous artist coming up in our midst!" he cheers and you smile gratefully.

"There's a piece up for auction tonight," Jin adds, rubbing your upper back.

"Well my wife will have to deal with losing a couple thousand, won't she?" Kyulsoo jeers, winking at you.

Your giggle makes the others around you brighten up and you're incredibly grateful for your friends.

You give the art distributor a wave goodbye before turning back to the large crowd who continues to chat loudly.

When you spot Yoongi's grandmother, you bow your head to her and you don't miss the coy smirk she gives back. She's on the arm of an older man that you deem to be your boyfriend's grandfather. He looks incredibly serious and dominating.

"Please don't come over here," you whisper under your breath.

Turning back to the CEO, you watch as he laughs with Jimin. His arm is still nestled around Sera and his fingers are splayed out as if he's comfortable.

"Why don't we go mingle? Hmm?" Leena asks, noticing how wrought you become on her arm.

You scoff gently turning away from the sight before you.

"He doesn't even notice that I'm here." you accuse, grabbing a sparkling water.

"I'm sure he does, he's just playing a part, princess." Jin assures you, pulling both of his best friends away from the sight.

"Can you let me go?" Yoongi seethes through his teeth, trying to wriggle his arm out from beneath Sera's.

"No." she says simply.

He scoffs loudly, looking away from Jimin to search for you. You're nowhere to be seen and it fills him with dread.

It's been maybe twenty minutes since the start of the night and he feels so empty.

"I should introduce Anna to Y/N before we leave." Jimin calls the father of your child.

"If you can fucking find her, I've been looking for her for forever." Yoongi whines softly, turning to his friend.

"She was watching you but I don't think she liked what she saw." Anna announces.

Yoongi's heart plummets at her words. Jimin shushes her gently, placing his hand on her large stomach.

"Anna." he chides softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm just saying. Why spend your time with a peasant when a queen is in your midst." Anna calls loudly, kissing Yoongi on the cheek goodbye.

Sera looks over with wide eyes, sneering at Jimin's pregnant wife.

"It's… It's the pregnancy hormones." he bleats, widening his eyes to his friend as an apology.

Your boyfriend chuckles, gripping onto his estranged wife's side and pulling his arm away from her.

"Min Yoongi." she seethes through her teeth, turning away from the group of girls that have flocked around her.

"I need more liquor to be in your presence." he replies with equal grit.

He fixes his suit jacket, looking over the crowd. Shaking his head, he sighs. You must be upset… And his heart breaks at the thought.

When he approaches the bar, he's grateful for the small freedom he's gotten.

Hearing Sera talk so incessantly is like having a mosquito constantly flying by your ear that you swat at it but it doesn't ever go away.

"Whisky on the rocks." he tells the bartender, turning towards the large crowd.

He's said hello to most of the people that litter the floor but not all of them and he dreads knowing he'll have to.

"Yoongi."

The sound sends chills through his body.

"Mother." he addresses, grabbing his glass of whisky.

He can feel his whole internal system shutting down. No one puts fear in him like his parents. It's just a conditioned response to fear them at this point.

"I hear you're ruining our family." she announces.

His tongue licks at his lips nervously and he doesn't know if he has the strength to look at the woman who watched him get beat without a second thought.

Sometimes he can't remember what she looks like and it's the most comforting feeling in the world.

"Oh?" he asks, keeping his back to her.

"Will you continue to cower in front of me? People might think you hate me." she scoffs.

His shaking hand clutches the whisky glass tighter and he downs the burning alcohol in two large gulps.

"One more, please." he practically begs the bartender.

"What do you want?" he inquires, turning to look at the crowd.

He can see her out of the corner of his eyes and he can feel his stomach become queasy.

"An explanation." she says simply.

"I'm doing what's best for me and what's best for my family." he insists, pushing off of the bar.

"Well. Looks like you've grown into a man with my help." his mother says, folding her arms.

He lets out a loud laugh. "You mean Maya's help. Stay away from the mother of my child, Mother. She isn't one for you to think so lowly of." he threatens, walking away.

"Are you threatening me, son?" she calls to him, pulling his arm to look at her.

He's taller than her by all accounts and so it's easy to look past her and keep his eyes trained there. He couldn't stomach looking at her.

"I'm not threatening you, Mother. We all live our own lives. You live with your four young boyfriends and your decisions and I live with my decisions. I hope you have a safe flight back to France."

He bows his head to her and the scoff she emits makes him want to whimper.

"Well… I guess I'll send you a wedding present when the time comes." she says, fixing her shawl.

"Please. Don't bother." he seethes through his teeth, catching sight of you.

He sighs with great relief, heading off towards you.

"I have so many new pieces of furniture you must see!" Go Artemis gushes.

You've become fond of this woman in such a short time. She went to school with all of you and you never noticed how absolutely quirky she is.

"I'd love to see them." you reply earnestly, sitting down on the marble bench.

Your ankles were really starting to fucking hurt.

"I'll send you a catalog!" Artemis cheers, pulling her phone out of her handbag.

"Okay, Art. Take a breath. This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Y/N." Yoona says with a laugh.

Artemis nods happily, clutching onto her handbag tighter. She seems to be vibrating on a frequency you've never seen before.

"Alright, cousin, why don't we get you a glass of champagne." Namjoon says, pulling her away with a smile.

"Bye, Y/N! See you later!" Joon's cousin exclaims.

"Bye Art!" you reply with a giggle, waving her off.

"She's fun," you tell your best friend who leans against the marble column.

"You should see her at family dinners. I learn every single material a piece of furniture can be made from." Yoona jeers, nudging Leena.

"Little dove."

The voice makes you want to weep. You stand up quickly, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. He looks flustered and completely incapable of standing on his own.

"Are you alright?" you whisper, widening your eyes at the CEO.

He looks around quickly, making sure no one notices him before he's pulling you away from everyone.

"Yoongi!" you hiss, looking back at the crowd.

You notice his grandmother narrowing her eyes at the both of you and you swallow thickly at how much in trouble you could get in.

You let yourself be pulled by him throughout many hallways until he reaches a blocked off room. He shoves the door open, pulling you in with him.

There are old Greek and Italian marble statues that sit artistically dotted around the large room.

When he closes the door without a sound, he turns to you. His eyes are soft and his expression looks so terrified, you don't know what to do.

"Baby," he whimpers and you open your arms immediately.

He accepts the invitation, wrapping himself in your embrace.

"I saw her. I was so scared." he gasps, burying his face in your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut at how his body wracks within your grasp. "Who?"

"My mother." he breathes out and you sigh gently.

You hug him tightly, running your fingers through his hair.

When he feels your fingertips against his scalp, he thinks he might be able to breathe again.

"I c-couldn't… I had to… I needed you." he whines, running his hands over your back.

The simple terror in his voice makes you want to cry. He's so fragile.

"I'm right here." you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He nods softly, running his hands from your back to your belly. He scoffs gently, kissing the soft skin of your neck.

"You must be so mad at me." he murmurs, pulling away to look at you.

You were annoyed, you were hurt but now when he's in your arms like this… it isn't possible to be upset with him.

"Not anymore," you reply honestly.

He hums gently, cupping your face with both of his hands.

"I love you." he breathes out, leaning in to kiss you.

"I love you, too." you reply.

His lips are gentle and soft against yours, you could feel all of his emotions so far from this night passing to you and you accept them willingly.

Then from his soft touch, it becomes needy. It becomes sharp and demanding.

"Little dove," he gasps, shoving you back against the closest wall.

His forehead presses to yours and his hands are absolutely quick with lustful intentions as he balls up the skirt of your gown in his hands.

"God. I've been so fucking lonely all night." Yoongi groans, running his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

"Yoongi, we shouldn't, someone could catch us!" you whisper fiercely.

Your head lolls back when he cups your pussy.

"I don't care. I feel like I've been away from you for years." he seethes, kissing down your neck.

You whimper gently, your back arching off of the wall at his touch.

"I'm so upset that you were mad at me, I'm so sorry, little dove." he groans, running his hands over your bump.

You gasp gently, eyes fluttering shut at how sensual his hands are on your skin.

"HI MRS. MIN, I'M LOOKING FOR YOUR GRANDSON!" you hear Jimin scream.

Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth, backing away from you in an instant. He fixes your dress, eyes on your face as he cringes.

"As am I Park. Have you seen him?" Seyoung asks through the door.

Yoongi holds his breath, pulling you behind a large statue. You cup your hands over your mouth, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"No, I haven't but if I do see them, I will let you know!" Jimin calls to her.

You can hear her muffled hum through the door and the distant sound of heels clacking on the floor.

"You're safe, you perverts." Jimin whispers fiercely through the door.

You smack Yoongi's chest a multitude of times before looking back into his eyes. There's silence for a second before both of you burst forth with a case of the giggles.

"Oh my God," he chuckles, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, gorgeous."

It's gotten a little easier to be alone with your friends without Yoongi.

It's just the simple fact of knowing that you had a secret rendezvous not long ago that keeps you going. You notice that he's also made an effort to look at you from time to time, even secretly.

"Hey guys." you hear from behind you and your whole party turns to look at him.

"Hey Yoongles," Yoona cheers, setting her glass of champagne down.

"A lot of people have been coming up to me about the artwork for the mall." he quips.

And everyone realizes this is all a ploy to be able to talk to you.

"God, it's like we don't even exist." Leena teases, pulling her boyfriend's arm around her waist tighter.

"Looks like you're already more famous than we thought." the CEO quips, sipping his whisky.

"Oh yeah! Speaking of famous. Kim Bongjoo came by the office yesterday and was very interested in my latest painting." Namjoon announces, raising his glass of brandy.

"THE Kim Bongjoo?!" Taehyung gapes.

The lawyer nods, nudging you with a smile.

"Kim Bongjoo is so famous, even his kids that are in kindergarten are held to a higher esteem than the President!" Leena gushes, leaning into the group.

"Guess my woman will make more money than me, hmm?" your boyfriend whispers conspiratorially to the others.

You roll your eyes with a snort, elbowing him.

"Why are you over here anyway?" Taehyung quips to the father of your child.

"Because I'm all by myself with the leech, all of my friends have left me." he whines.

"That's because we'd rather spend time with the baby. No one wants to hear your… whatever she is, bitch and whine all goddamn night." Leena retorts, earnings nods from everyone in your group.

Yoongi sighs loudly. "Fine. But you guys fucking suck."

But then finally, as if the Lord was tired of keeping up the charade, you all finally hear the words that will get you out of here quicker.

"Everyone, the auction is about to begin! Please have a seat!"

Somehow, in some way, Yoongi sat down right beside you. It's comforting to feel his knee pressing into yours even if it's just the slightest touch.

The only annoying thing is that Sera is sitting beside him.

"Whatever you want, little dove, just bid on it and I'll transfer the money over to your account." Yoongi whispers softly.

His wife scoffs loudly, folding her arms. "I fucking hate the both of you." she seethes through her teeth.

"Fucking relax, mouse. Don't start a scene where there shouldn't be." Seokjin seethes from behind you all.

She huffs out softly, rolling her eyes.

You lay your head on Leena's shoulder, watching as the first item up for auction is revealed.

"This first item for auction comes from Go Artemis. It's from her latest collection of furniture from 2021. This piece of furniture is a black and grey chaise lounge with pure diamond and cerulean beryl studs that compliment whatever room you would choose to place it. We'll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars."

The price practically makes you choke on your own spit but you try to hide your surprise. Yoongi chuckles beside you, tilting his head in your direction slightly.

"Money is nothing here, little dove." he whispers.

You stare at the chaise lounge and your boyfriend speaks your thoughts for you.

"Baby boy's room." he whispers and you hum in agreement. It does go with the aesthetic.

But you can't bring yourself to raise your hand, the thought of spending that much money makes you feel sick.

"Leena, do the honors." Yoongi whispers to your best friend.

"No! Wa-" you gasp as she raises your hand high up in the air.

"One hundred thousand. Going once… Going twice-"

You cringe in anticipation, elbowing Leena when you hear her giggle.

"Sold to paddle 73!"

You sigh loudly, pulling your arm away from hers. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, folding your arms.

"Naturally," she jeers, raising her champagne glass to you.

The constant ebb and flow of money being released in the room is a complete contrast to how you've lived your life. You've spent your life saving money and these people spend it on fancy dog collars and one day trips to vineyards in California like it's nothing.

Yoongi has even purchased some items that you don't deem necessary like the finest cigars and a trip to a secluded spa and hotel in Japan. When you shook your head gently at the price he'd just repeat the same thing.

"It's for charity."

While you can try to understand, it's pretty much going over your head.

"The next piece we have is from Kim Sera."

Sera's eyes widen and she sneers at Yoongi when he snorts into his whisky glass.

"What have you done?" she growls softly.

Her estranged husband shrugs and you sigh gently at their childish tit for tat.

"Having fun," he quips, leaning back in his chair.

"This is a one of a kind Alexander Shin piece made of pure diamonds. It was her first wedding present from her husband Min Yoongi. It was given to her two days before their wedding and it's said that Alexander found it so beautiful he almost couldn't sell Yoongi the necklace. We'll start the bidding at three million."

"My prized necklace?!" she hisses, shock written all over her face.

When paddles go up immediately, you cringe. Yoongi is being a brat.

"Yoongi." you mumble embarrassed and he shrugs in reply.

"I have four million. Going once. Going twice-"

"Six million." Seokjin announces from behind you and you turn around to him with weary eyes.

You can see Anna and Jimin chuckling amongst themselves and you hold back the great sigh that threatens to tear forth from your body.

How absolutely petty of your boyfriend.

"Sold to paddle 81!"

Jin looks over at you, sticking out his tongue with a wrinkled nose.

He too couldn't give a fuck about money.

"Finally the last piece of the evening belongs to an upcoming artist."

Your head whips around and you try everything you can to make yourself smaller. This feels like you're being called out in class to answer a question, you know nothing about.

"This art piece entitled Glass House," your cheeks heat up and you feel quite faint in this very second. There are a multitude of eyes on you from strangers that you don't yet feel comfortable with, "was created by Y/N. She is creating the art for the Gangnam Mall coming into creation soon. And she also has gorgeous pieces at the Luck Art Studio. Many say she's on the list to become one of the greatest expressive and artistic minds of this generation."

WHAT?!

This man cannot be serious. How could he say such high praise about you when he doesn't even know you?!

"Oh jeez," you murmur, cupping your stomach.

"We'll start the bidding at two million."

Oh, that price.

You're going to faint. You're about to pass out.

Holy shit.

"I have two million. Anyone for two and a half?"

Your breathing slows down and the voices in the room seem to echo in your ears. This is an out of body experience like you've never had before.

You paint for fun and now one of your pieces is going for millions!? It's absolutely insane!

"Five million. Do I hear five and a half?"

When you met Yoongi… you certainly didn't think this was going to happen! You didn't know anything would transpire and now look at you. Pregnant, cowering in a comfy armchair while people bid on a picture of a glass dome filled with roses. It's completely ridiculous!

"Jimin, buy me the painting!" you hear Anna whine.

Turning to her, you shake your head. "I can just make you one!" you whisper fiercely.

She giggles in turn, pointing to the painting on stage. "I want that one." she says with the flourish of her hand.

"I have nine million. Do I hear nine and a half?"

Sera scoffs and for once you agree. This is completely absurd. When Yoongi raises his paddle with a humorous expression, you elbow him without a care for others.

"It's for charity." he murmurs, chuckling above the lip of his glass.

"I hate you," you mumble, looking around at all the raised paddles.

"I have thirteen million. Do I hear fourteen?"

"Just put me out of my misery." you gasp, rubbing your stomach as your son kicks inside of you.

"Twenty million!" Anna calls loudly, shoving Jimin's hand high up in the air.

You groan long and low, putting your shaking hand to your forehead. She cannot be serious.

"Sold to paddle 95."

You give a small smile as people clap demurely turning their heads to look at you. When you meet eyes with Min Seyoung, she sends you a small wink.

"Good girl," she mouths, turning back around.

You want to run and hide quite soon after that but the amount of people that come up to you and congratulate you are too many. After the wild display of money, people make you out to be the next Van Gogh or something.

"Anna!" you gasp, bowing your head to all the people surrounding you when she grabs your arm and tugs you away from everyone.

"If you want her art, you can find it at Luck Art Studios!" she calls to them.

"I can't believe you just spent so much money on one painting. I could just make you one!" you gawk as she pulls you towards the entrance.

"I wanted it for the nursery. Besides, you make money when people flaunt theirs. This was my last hoorah before I give birth next week!" she giggles, waving over Jin.

He rushes over, shaking both hands happily at you. "You did it Princess! You're famous!"

Slapping him with your clutch, you narrow your eyes at him. "Shut up! You're embarrassing!" you bark out, looking around with shy eyes.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure today was just a whirlwind for you."

Anna waves at you, accepting her fur shawl from her doting husband.

The night chill is welcome as you wait on the steps for Seokjin's car to arrive from the valet.

A whirlwind is right but maybe you could equate more to whiplash than anything. You can understand just how this was supposed to set you up for success when the time comes for Yoongi to leave Sera but you didn't think it would be this explosive.

"Well, looks like you're coming up in the world."

The voice is not one you've heard before and you turn to it without a second thought.

The woman is simply gorgeous with a younger man clasped to her arm. Her dark blue gown with sapphire accessories stand out to you and she looks like the epitome of money.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Yes, of course. You don't know me, but I know you." she says, stepping down the marble stairs.

When she gets closer, her facial features resemble Yoongi's almost perfectly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her.

This is Yoongi's mother.

Oh no.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Min." you say softly.

Her eyes light up and she points her clutch bag at you with a wide smile. "So you are a smart little bird."

You'd hate for Yoongi to see her talking to you. You know how much he despises her.

"Well, I guess I'll welcome you into the family. It's not like I have much of a choice, what with my grandchild in your belly and your legs being spread for my son." she muses, accepting a long cigarette from the boy toy on her arm.

Jin goes stiff by your side, eyes widening at the pavement at her truly free mouth.

"What's the gender?" she inquires, pulling from the cigarette.

"A boy." you reply as kindly as you can.

"Good. Then you won't have to try again. Lord knows I was over the moon when Yoongi came out of my twat and I was finally free."

You shiver at how completely crude she is. No wonder Yoongi hates her. You hum gently, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Cars here." Seokjin says quickly, putting his hand to your back.

"It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Min," you say, bowing to her.

"Yes. And you… small bird." she mumbles amused, turning to her boytoy and patting his suit jacket.

You can't get to the car fast enough and when you climb in, you can feel your body shuddering with weeping intentions. Your hands shake as you put on your seatbelt.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is her problem?! Holy shit!" Seokjin breathes, putting on his seatbelt and backing up as quickly as he possibly can.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You're truly stunned in silence.

"No wonder Yoongi grew up the way he did! His mother is the fucking devil!" Jin gawks, driving towards home.

You were first to get home and it was such a relief to take off the heavy gown.

Now laying in your comfortable bed, you can't hold on to a thought long enough before you're on to the next.

The night feels like such a blur. You were introduced to so many new people, you mingled with some of the richest people in society. Your boyfriend spent more money than you would know what to do with. You met his absolutely despicable mother. You were mad at him for some reason or another in the beginning… It's all just so fleeting.

But the one thing that's probably stuck the most with you is how high of a pricing one of your paintings went for. It wasn't the most perfect painting, it wasn't your greatest piece, but it still went for twenty million dollars. All of the emotions from that moment still resonate deep within you.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you can do this. Maybe you can be worthy of Yoongi and his lifestyle. Maybe this fate is pure and as grand as you'd like to think.

"Where's my babies?"

The sound of his deep voice makes you smile and when he steps into your bedroom, all of your worries just melt away.

His body is highlighted by the great moon that hangs high in the sky.

His gummy smile breaks your heart to bits as he pulls his tie off with a quickness.

He strips down to his briefs in what seems like seconds and you can see the utter joy and excitement he feels to lay in bed with you.

"Look at the greatest expressive and artistic mind laying in our bed." he quips, pulling back the covers.

You giggle gently, giving him a second to get comfortable before laying on his side. He sighs gratefully, putting his chilly hand on your warm belly.

"God, this is amazing. To come home and lay in bed with you like this beats everything in the world." he breathes out, kissing the top of your head.

You hug him tightly, laying your head on his shoulder.

"My little dove."

His voice is filled with warmth and love. And now you know that no matter how things start to shape and form, the end of the road always ends with your boyfriend.

"Missed me, kiddo? Daddy missed you and mommy a lot." Yoongi mumbles sleepily, burying his face in your hair.

The comfortable smirk that sets onto your lips is welcome and you're thinking of your family as you drift off to sleep.

Next Chapter ------>

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