#lowkey this is original work. but whatever

[helplessautomaton]

WC 876

addon to the last post abt yandere daisuke,, sorry gang i lowkey forgor. also, i dont think i can keep using ingame screenshots for the header so i might ditch that because i don't want to use outside sources. tbf i could just draw my own for that- anyways!

i straight up forgot about the please aspect and did not take advantage of that! mightve gotten cared away, apologies hehe, also this is my last post for today, sorry

~

its gonna start off slow with daisuke, he just wants praise from the people around him who know better! he just wants to know hes doing a good job so please tell him he is. as his obsession starts to grow hes unaware of his expression with his eyes. staring at you, expecting— wanting praise, just to give him that extra boost. as time progresses along with his attachment towards you, no matter what part you have in the crew, he tries to help you. his cheery smile making it hard to resist and say no. gently grabbing your hands while you two take a break, blabbering on about he managed to do and going off topic about whatever. all this while he has a golden smile directed at you, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners to match.

when you hang around swansea and daisuke, you semi-jokingly praise him to give him more of a boost. its sends him over the moon to know hes doing right by you! swansea makes little teasing comments when daisuke is out of ear. as he starts to get more conscious of his obsession with you, he acts on it more knowingly. trying to push the buttons he know works even when its starting wear off and you hesitantly go along with it.

he wants to share his happiness you give to him, he wants to see you happy. at this point you are his world and hes not willing to give that up to anyone. even if it makes him a little uncharacteristicly harsh to the other crew members. he doesnt risk what he doesnt have to, even if curly or anya warm up to you the same way he originally started out. thats not to say it tugs at daisuke and makes him annoyed, he knows its not irrational but for jimmy he is justified if he dares to try anything. i feel like he would over look or straight up not notice if swansea treat you very slightly better because lets be honest, hes probably getting that same deal as well. theres so much daisuke wants to do but due to the environment he cant, but him stealing a packet or two of sugar just for you can make up for it.

really at this point, daisuke is at your beck n call whether you want it or not, hes so attached he refuses to let go. hes still his usual self when hes only with you, optimistic and bright eyed. even if swansea is hitting him in the back of the head to make him focus. but during this point everyone is starting to notice daisuke's behavior and the frustration sets in. even if curly tries to redirect him back to speed, daisuke needs you. attempting to praise him just to get him to do his job wont exactly work if you have to speed off to your intended chores. jimmy's comments start to become more sharp as he glares at the both of you while all you can do is look away, really just not wanting this either.

after the crash, he uses his tears to just get something, mostly he wants reassurance to refresh his optimism. especially when he gets drunk on the mouthwash, he cant help it, hes still doing a good job despite it all, right? he tries his best to keep you content in anyway shape or form, even if it means hiding you away from everyone for a little while. afterall, what can he do anymore. so please, just let him make you smile for sometime before the situation breaks back through to reality.

//

"daisuke can you please keep on? youre doing a wonderful job we can go on a break soon." you try to charm your way through, swansea was getting more snappy at the both of you. daisuke's let his smile takeover, his eyes crinkling, nodding he continues under whatever swansea needs him to do. the tension in the room was clear, your jaw was tensed up, this had been the 6th day you had to do this. you worked beside anya not swansea, yet daisuke needed you or else youd be hearing complaints from 4 people of the crew out of 5. you werent even paying attention to the way either swansea or daisuke worked on whatever they were working on, yet daisuke called out to you. "alright i think we got it all done for now, swansea said im good to get on break now."

you sighed slightly and let daisuke lead the way, joking and telling you whatever crossed his mind. "i was doing a good job right?" his quiet voice snapped you back to where you were at, stopping just in time so you didnt accidentally knock over daisuke. "uhh,, yeah, it did look like you were, um, working hard! just keep doing what swansea wants you to do."

daisuke looks over to you, watching you carefully with his eyes before he breaks out into a usual smile and carries on with going into the lounge.

[librarygarten]

Hello, i loved all your LU scenarios, specially the ones where the chain reacts to their games, they were so well written.

I was wondering if you could do some scenarios where the reader talks about some Zelda trivia with the chain, like the development of some games (Majoras mask was made in just one year and the director of Zelda don't like it, there were supposed to be more dungeons in Wind Waker) or the reception of their releases (Four swords adventures sold less than a million copies, WW was poorly recieved unlike TP for it's art style, this changed as time passed, etc.), perhaps some easter eggs or cameos (Talon and Ingo looks like Mario and Luigi, Link appears in other games as a cameo).

Okay, but why is this lowkey me 😭. My autistic ass would NOT shut up about their games, even if I was telling them stuff they didn't want to hear about.

It was a peaceful day. The chain had found an inn to stay at for the night. Nobody was injured. Supplies and spirits were high. Until Wind decided to ask you a question.

“So, if our adventures are games, does that mean you know everything that happened during them? Like everyone we met, everything we did, EVERYTHING?” Wind asked. Some of the other Links brustled, clearly uncomfortable with the question and what you might say. You smile nervously. 

“Basically? But you don’t talk in the games, so I don’t know anything you said.”

“But who made the games? How do they know about our adventures?” Wind asked.

“Oooh boy.” You scratched the back of your head, “There’s a company called Nintendo, they made most of the Legend of Zelda games. I think Four’s games were made by a different company, though. That’s why some of the details are a bit screwy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Four snapped his head up to look at you, forgetting the weapon he had been working on.

“Oh, uh…” you stammered, “Well, the other company made your games, but they didn’t use the same stories as Nintendo did, so the lore gets a bit weird. Like, your Ganon is probably a completely unrelated guy from the Ganon that Time, Wind, Hyrule, Legend, and Twilight all had to deal with. The way he randomly turns into a pig in your game after getting that trident or whatever doesn’t match up at all with how Ganondorf turns into a pig after being sealed away by Time’s Zelda in an alternate timeline where Time dies during the final battle.”

“Wait, there’s a timeline where Time DIED?” Twilight is behind you now, and you’re not sure when he got there. You turn to look at him, his face full of panic.

“Yeah, Ocarina of Time kind of broke the timeline into three different paths. The game was so popular it became, like, the most important part of the timeline. It actually sold so well that the people who made the game made a sequel to it, Majora’s Mask, in under a year, which is kind of insane. For context, Ocarina of Time took over twice that long to make.” Time raised an eyebrow at your explanation, but decided he didn’t want to know more.

“Wait, if there are multiple timelines, how can you know which of our adventures are ours and which were just really similar? The many timelines means there’s infinite possibilities.” Sky asked, reminding everyone that he was the only Link to ever attend school (and remember it), and apparently he studied multiverse theory???? Moving on.

“Well, there are some differences between languages, I guess? Like, in the English version of Link’s Awakening, there’s a quest to get a mermaid’s lost necklace, but that was just a change the translators made. In the original Japanese, the quest is to get the mermaid’s bikini top.” You chatter on, missing the blush that creeps up Legend’s neck and ears. “And some of the items in Wind Waker are mixed around between the English and Japanese versions. Like maps, heart containers, and rupees are in each other's spots.”

“Can we go back to the part where there’s multiple Ganons, apparently?” Wild gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. You hadn’t notice him sit down. Actually, the whole chain seemed to be listening now. Wuh-oh.

“Oh, well, not at one time. Unless the dragon cutscenes from Tears of the Kingdom happen after Skyward Sword and Breath of the Wild is after all the other games. Then, Calamity Ganon was just kind of… chilling under Hyrule Castle while Four and Time dealt with their respective Ganons. But fans still argue about where your games fit on the timeline.” You shrug, trying to downplay how absolutely terrifying dealing with two Ganons at once would be.

“Wait, why do fans argue? Isn’t there an official timeline?” Hyrule asked. You groan.

“Yes, but it was published before Breath of the Wild was released, so we need to figure out where it is on the timeline based on the stuff in game, which is hard, because there's so many easter eggs.”

“Easter… eggs?” Warriors tilts his head.

“Items or decorations that reference other games. Like, in A Link Between Worlds, Legend’s house has Majora’s Mask hanging on the wall for no discernable reason. And in Breath of the Wild, there’s areas named after places in Link’s Awakening, like Koholit Rock and Goponga Island, which makes no sense because those places were dreamt up by a wind fish. Not to mention the fact the ruins of Lon Lon Ranch can be found, but there’s no way that structure would have been in as good of condition as it is for how old it is. And Lurelin village is an almost exact copy of Outset Island, but again, the timing is just too far apart.”

“But you never answered my other question.” Wind tapped your shoulder, stopping what would have been an hour-long rant on where Wild’s games fit on the official timeline. “How did ‘Nintendo’ or whoever else know about our adventures with that much detail?”

“UHHHHHH………. OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME.” You quickly stand up from the table and launch yourself out the nearest window, escaping the conversation. (You were on the first floor. You’re fine).

[mediumgayitalian]

She almost runs over her guitar on her way in the driveway.

For a second, the image is so obscene that she laughs. She’d gotten her hands on a permanent marker, when she was three, scrawled her name across the body with careful hands a tongue stuck out of her mouth in concentration. The N is backwards, and she’d creatively used the soundhole as the O. Hollered for Daddy to come look, to come ruffle her hair and swing her over his shoulders for a job well done.

He’d come to look, alright.

“Well, Helen,” he’d said to his wife, scrubbing a hand over his neck, “damn thing’s hers, now, I suppose.”

He’d always warned her to be careful with it. Scolded her for every sticker she’d slapped on the neck, every painted doodle on the face. Picked it up when she left it sprawled on the couch, placing it gently on the stand. Careful as he was with all her things, with her.

It’s strings-down on the pavement, now, half-crushed under the weight of her patched pink backpack. She takes a half step forward, chipped paint of her purple toenails scratching against the wood of the guitar. She crouches down and touches it, softly, wincing at the twang of the twisted strings.

“What…”

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She looks up just in time to catch the pale blue curtains swish quickly shut over the bow windows, to see the lights flick off.

Mouth dry, she touches her stomach. The swell is barely there — barely noticeable. Barely far along enough to feel the kick.

She wants to scream. She wants to run up to the door and bang on it ‘til Mama swings it open, wants to collapse to her knees and sob and beg for their forgiveness. Wants to tell them about how scared she’s been for months. Wants Mama to grip her hand in her calloused ones, sit her at the kitchen table and get her the exact type of tea that’ll settle her stomach and soothe her heartburn. Wants Daddy to smooth back her hair and press a kiss to the crown of her forehead, squeezing the curve of her shoulder. Wants Wally the cat to hop up onto her lap, mrrping and bumping his head into her sternum.

Instead, she swallows. She swings her backpack over her shoulders, picks her guitar gently off the cracked driveway, and walks straight-backed to her car. The key sticks in the lock, as it always does, and in her increasingly desperate attempts to force it open she twists the damn thing, and the key is sad and thin and bent when she yanks it out and she cries, almost, the tears build and build and build in her eyes, util suddenly she grits her teeth and decides that she will not. She shoves the key back in the lock and twists the other way, bending it back into shape, wrenching open the door and throwing her backpack in, relishing in the thunk as it hits the passenger door. With her guitar she’s gentler, barely, setting it neatly along the backseats and wrenching her hand back as hard as she can to make up for it.

She sits in the drivers seat so hard the whole car shakes. The steering wheel is warm, still, from the heat of her palms on the drive here from Molly’s house, because she’s been overheated lately. For the last four months, to be exact. Overheated and cranky and nauseous and heavy.

“Well,” she whispers, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. She wraps her arms around her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut, biting her tongue as hard as she can. “It’s you and me and sheer fucking will, I guess, kid.”

She rifles through her CDs until she comes across a case with a wood-pattern print and a man with a revolver lounging across it. She pulls out the scratched disc and feeds it carefully into the player, waiting for the deep baritone to rumble through her shit plastic speakers, and listens to the first bar, the second, the third.

But this is for real, so forget about me. Eight more minutes to go.

The light doesn’t come back on. The curtains don’t flick. Her Daddy doesn’t come runnin’ out the door, screaming for her to wait. Mama doesn’t follow out calmly after him. All there is is shadow, shadow, shadow, and the shape her guitar made upside down on the pavement.

She backs out of the driveway where she tripped and fell and lost her first tooth, and drives, and drives, and drives.

———

When she was little, her uncle took her to go see Alien.

He shouldn’t have. It was far too old a movie for a kid her age, and the clerk had told him so. But Noah Solace had a penchant for being stubborn and a chip in his shoulder, so he’d taken her anyway. He should have left when the alien leapt from its nest and definitely when one of the freaky little parasites burst from the guy’s chest, but he didn’t, and Naomi had watched frozen completely in her seat, palms sweating, spine rigid, squirming at the thought of something growing inside her. Of being betrayed by something that lived in the deepest recesses of her body.

The day after she leaves home, she taps her chewed-up fingernail on the sides of the wall-phone by a rest stop. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. The Bell logo is covered partially by someone’s tag, by a curved C and bubble O B A L T. Ironically, the worn Sharpie ink is purple.

617 343 7844. She knows the number by heart. She knows the song of dialling it like she knows Jolene. Bah-duh-duh bah-duhduh duh-bah-duhduh. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, four. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She sucks her lip into her teeth. Training her eyes on the purple COBALT tag, the obstructed Bell, the rainbow of wads of gum balled up in the corners, she presses the right buttons. Bahduhduh-bahduhduh-duhbahduhduh. Ring. Ring.

What is she doing. What is she doing.

Ring. Ring.

Naomi isn’t one for planning. She’s absent-minded, she knows she is. Flighty and distracted. Head in the clouds, never one to study. A coaster. A drifter. A real one, now.

Ring. Ring.

Hey, Uncle Noah. It’s been years since I’ve seen you. I keep forgetting to respond to your letters. How am I? I’m great! I slept with a god and now I’m nineteen and knocked up and homeless, to boot. Wanna come pick me up?

Ring. Ring.

God, what is she doing. What is she doing.

Ring. Ring. Ri—

“Fuck d’you want?”

Low baritone. Gravelly. Rough, slurring. Sleepy?

“Hello? Can you hear me? Who’s this?”

Hey, Uncle Noah. It’s been years since I’ve seen you. I keep forgetting to —

“Is this one’a them fuckin’ tele — fuck they called — tele…tele…”

— respond to your letters, great, nineteen knocked up —

“Tele…grams? Telefuckin…telemarketers! You one’a them fuckin’ telemarketers?”

— pick me up pick me up pick me up please —

“Swear t’a fuckin’ Jesus — I told you sons of bitches —”

— parasite —

“Ah, fuck you. You call here again I’mma fuckin’ —”

Click.

Riiiiiiinnnnnng.

She stares at her own finger on the receiver, white and bloodless. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

You have disconnected. To reconnect your call, please —

She flings the phone from her hands, against the receiver, against the box, clink, clatter, bounce, tap tap tap tap tap tap against the pavement. Tap. Scritch. Tap tap tap. And flees to her car.

———

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

She blinks back at the yellow little fuel light, humming along to the stereo. She can push it for a while longer, probably. Maybe even to the district line.

What happens if she just drives? If she drives and drives and doesn’t stop. Lets the little light blinkblinkblink at her, keepin’ time with Reba McEntire and her dying husband. That’s the night when the lights went out in Georgia.

She’d have time to pull over, probably. Coast on the speed she was going, cut across to the gravel shoulder. There’s no one else around, anyway. She could recline her seat and cross her arms over her chest and watch the clouds through the dusty top of her windshield. Sleep through the night and wake with the mourning doves’ cooing. Then what? That’s the night that they hung an innocent man.

Walk, probably. On the side of the highway, along the stretch of dying grass and reedy weeds. Guitar on her back and backpack tucked under her arm, strolling under the balmy March sun and sing to the cawing crows, to the rushing cars. Well, don’t sell your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer.

Someone’d pull up next to her, probably. A trucker or a group of hippies. Headed to Oregon, they might say, round glasses covering bloodshot red eyes. Need a ride? ‘Cause the judge in the town’s got bloodstains on his hands.

And she would need a ride. She’d sing for them, maybe. Pluck along to Hey Jude on her out-of-tune guitar and holler with the wind rushing in from the old broken windows. They’d know someone in Cali, of course they would, slip her their card. He’s a manager, he’s looking for some new talent. You’re just what he needs. Well, they hung my brother before I could say.

Right. A knocked-up nobody who’s paying for gas with her last few bills and the four quarters she found in a sticky mess of juice in her cup holder. She’ll go platinum, right up there with the Stones and the Roses. Naomi Solace, part-time mom, full-time country star. The tracks he saw while on his way.

She drifts off the exit to the first gas station she sees. The blink, blink, blink of the light irritates her, now.

The highway town she drifts through looks like a carbon copy of the dozens of others she’s been to in her life. The giant grey rest stop, the 24 hour McDonalds, the three separate Mattress Firms. She skips over the Buccees — the stupid mascot gives her the creeps — and pulls into the first gas station she sees. Dollar twenty a gallon. Jesus.

There’s an old man at the pump across from her. He stares as he pumps his gas. Nausea builds in her stomach, but whether that’s the gross factor or the avocado-sized mass growing inside her, but she doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. She sprints for the little convenience store at top speeds, shoving open the door and ignoring the startled cashier and stumbling into the little bathroom in the back, barely making it to the stained toilets before emptying the contents of her stomach. She can see the half-digested junior bacon cheeseburger she had for lunch. It makes her throw up more. It also makes her mourn the eighty-nine cents she spent on it. Fuck.

She walks back into the convenience store grimacing at the taste of her own mouth. Nobody tells you that mouthwash and water bottles account for approximately eight billion dollars of your pregnancy cost. Of course, Naomi has never asked, but that should be a bigger part of the condom ads.

Or abstinence ads. She’s not sure how helpful a piece of rubber is against godly sperm. Mary seemed to struggle with the ordeal. Godspeed to her — she gets why the Catholics are so bananas for her now. This shit is hard and she handled it like a champ. Good on you, Mother Mary.

“Just these?” the cashier asks hesitantly, poking at the travel mouthwash, the water bottles, the singular packaged pickle, and the tiny jar of strawberry jam. And the plastic spoon she grabs from the hot table.

“And pump number 5. Please.”

“…Twenty-three sixty.”

Gas and water and a snack.

Twenty five dollars.

She has to count out her coins, hyperaware if the cashier’s dirty look. She bites back a comment about how frustrating it must be for them to have to do their job when it’s so busy out, what with one customer. Shame. Because she’s used up her irresponsibility quota for the next few years, she reckons, so she oughtta bite her tongue.

Half her fortune poorer, she walks back out to her car. The gas nozzle is still sticking out if it. She puts it back while holding her breath — do gas fumes kill growing babies? They probably kill growing babies — and shoves open her trunk, digging around. Blanket — no. Forgotten impulse purchases from months ago — no. Umbrella — no. Grad cap — no, and also why.

Finally, she finds what she’s looking for. She climbs onto the hood of the car, digging into her jam pickle, and flips open the paper atlas, turning the many pages until the map of Texas stares out at her, huge and overwhelming.

Twenty-six dollars and forty-nine cents. That’s what she has left. ‘Round twenty bucks for a full tank — that’s what she has left. 400 miles on a full tank. Seven or so hours until she’s out of the state.

“I could leave,” she says aloud.

And go where? New Mexico? Barely. She’s nowhere near LA, she’s nowhere near New York; hell, she’s nowhere near Austin. She’s nowhere near anything. Not even the nearest Amtrak station. She could drive until she runs out of gas, leave her car on the side of the road, and walk — to where? To the desert? To some serial killer’s basement?

To fucking find Apollo again?

“This is ridiculous.”

Slamming the atlas closed, she stomps back into the convenience store.

“There a secondhand store near here?” she demands.

The cashier regards her for a moment. Taking her in, probably, her ratty jeans that she can’t button anymore, her stained pink sweater, the greasy mess of her hair. The jam sticking to the corner of her mouth and the sliver of stomach pushing over the waistband of her pants. Her peeling flip-flops.

“Not here,” they say finally. “Highway town, ma’am. Ain’t got shit but what you can see from the road. You wanna real store, you gotta head ten miles east to Blowshow.”

“There’s a town called Blowshow?” she asks incredulously.

“There’s a town called Sheffield,” replies the cashier, mouth twitching, “which no one calls Joansburg, on account that the mayor was caught with his secretary gumming his green bean behind his desk by the film crew of the local news station coming to talk about a recent policy change. It’s got a main road and a general store, and will most definitely have a secondhand store.”

Naomi nods, rocking back on her heels. “Anybody hirin’?”

“Well, I ain’t been to Blowshow since last Sunday. And even then only to come see my sister. I wasn’t lookin’ at help wanted signs.”

“There’s gotta be somethin’.”

The cashier hums. The busy themself with a stack of cigarette boxes behind the counter, fiddling with a strip of cardboard come loose.

“There’s a diner,” they admit. “Di’s. Worst turnover rate than any place I ever been to.” The glance over at her, eyebrows raised. “Frankly, you won’t last a quarter year.”

Instead of sneering something about bowing out quickly and how they must know lots about finishing early, because that’s gross and also uncalled for, Naomi simply walks out. She gets in her car and starts the engine and turns the radio to thirty, making the warbling over the speakers so warped she might as well be listening to static, and guns it east. Or what she’s pretty sure is east, anyway. It’s fifteen minutes the empty pothole roads give way to something that looks like it’s seen a person in the last forty years. A little house sits nestled in the trees, bikes strewn about the driveway. A few hundred yards down road is a jogger that she gives a wide berth. In minutes, she’s pulling into a proper town — a tiny town, with more trees than people, but a real town with a real purpose. She slows to a crawl, eyeing hand-painted banners and peeling signs until she finds what she’s looking for.

The secondhand shop is small, clustered, and smells like mothballs. A shelf of broken old toys blocks her view of the rest of it and any people that may live inside of it, so she steps aside it, stepping carefully around chipped tile and stacked up boxes, looking for the right section. (The right shelf, really; nothing in this store is big enough to be a section.)

She finds what she’s looking for in a dusty old corner near the very back. Behind a broken typewriter and an ancient fax machine, and more random wires and cables than she can count, is a little portable cassette player. A pair of wiry headphones are wound around the hunk of black plastic, foam ear muffs cracked and peeling, and the worn label on the side reads Isobel. She grabs the clunky old machine carefully, brushing the pads of her fingers over the peeling paper label, and holds it to her chest.

At home she has a proper CD Walkman. It’s pink and pretty and covered all over in shiny foil stickers, and it’s chipped on the side from when she dropped it down the stairs. It skips every sixth song of an album without fail and she has to skip three backwards and two forwards to hear it. She has a collection of CDs to go with it longer than her longest shelf, and they’re arranged by colour and favour.

On another shelf, she finds a series of chipped cassette tapes. She flicks through the selection, frowning, trying to restructure hopes that were set too high and read labels written thirty years ago.

“I’ve got an extra box of them by the counter,” says a voice, making her yelp.

“Christ alive, you could kill somebody,” she snaps.

The man shrugs. He wears the loudest shirt she has ever seen and cutoff shorts that are way too short for someone his age. There are streaks of blue in his white hair, and four sweatbands on his left wrist. Green purple grey yellow. One, two, three, four.

“I’ll take a look.”

She spends another ten minutes in silence. The box, at least, has a little more variety than the shelf, so she picks out what’s worth it. She ends up with a stack the size of her arm.

“I have ten dollars,” she lies, Mama’s lecture about showing your cards ringing in her head. “That cover it?”

“Beautifully,” says the man, shiny gold-tooth smile. His bug-eye spectacles gleam in the yellow light. He holds out his hand. “Ten bucks for the player and tapes.”

Looking him right in the eye, she hands him her last twenty-dollar bill. He glares, when he sees it, muttering something about liars and thieves. Strangely, he looks at her with a little bit of respect when he slams her change down onto the counter.

She walks back out to her car, unwinding the headphones as she does. She’s half-worried the ancient things will disintegrate in her hands, but they manage to stay whole, if a little warped. She slides in behind the wheel and pushes back the seat, settling against the itchy carpet upholstery. With a quick glance out the window to make sure there are no creeps, she pulls up her shirt, bunching it up around her ribs, and lowers the waistband of her jeans. She eyes her belly critically.

There’s definitely a bump. Not much she couldn’t explain away with a particularly filling lunch, but it’s hard and there and constantly kicking at her from inside. Slowly, feeling foolish all the while, she stretches out the headphones until both halves rest on either side of her stomach. She picks out one of the tapes, slides it in the player, and clears her throat.

“Listen, kid,” she says, trying to sound less embarrassed than she feels, “I don’t want some lame baby who doesn’t know that Tina Turner was country first, okay? That’s a — waste of my time.” She clears her throat, hovering over the play button. “I better get some engagement.”

The twangy guitar is loud enough that she can hear it through the headphones. Or maybe they’re just that bad. Either way, Alien Parasite should be able to hear it just fine, amniotic fluid be damned.

“‘Means your true love daddy ain’t comin’ back,” she sings along. She closes her eyes and relaxes against the recliner seat, bare skin tingling. “‘Cause I’m movin’ on, I’ll soon be gone. Mhm, hm hm. So I’m movin’ on.’”

At the crest of the bridge, as the guitar speeds up and beats get harder, there’s a point of pressure right above her navel. Another, a few seconds later, at her pelvis. A third right below her ribs.

“Acrobatic little freak,” she mumbles fondly, smiling at her stretched taught skin.

She adjusts the headphones, adjusts herself, and turns the music up louder.

———

next

[helielune]

powder keg (full under the cut)

[circus-k]

worlds most microscopic design changes

+ tech explanations cause i don't think i've even once said anything about what they do

[infizero]

ok guys i dont wanna be a hater but im gonna be 100% honest i didnt rlly like the nimona movie 😭 I MEAN IT WAS FUN. it was nice. but i feel like it was missing everything that made me like the original graphic novel and honestly by the last like 30 minutes i was kind of just waiting for it to be over so i could read the book again 😭 NO HATE TO ANYONE WHO RLLY LIKED IT believe me when i say i dont think it is bad or anything. but i feel like just sooooo much was changed that it didnt feel like nimona at all to me. idk how to explain it, im sure once i reread the book i’ll be able to put it into words since the original will be more fresh in my mind. i think it was good but as someone who was literally obsessed w the og graphic novel it was honestly kinda disappointing. but i dont rlly care honestly its still rlly cool it got a movie!! 

but in my mind at least it proves that some things dont need to be made into a movie. ppl act like movies are the best form a piece of media can take and if something gets made into a movie then that’d be the peak form of it. but i honestly think nimona works wayyyyyy better in its original graphic novel form. most of the early stuff is way more slice of life lowkey stuff that lets you get attached to ballister and nimona as characters and get invested in their relationship w each other, BEFORE all the angsty final act stuff happens. also there honestly was just a ton of stuff that felt to me like it worked better in the original, like jousting tournament thing instead of the knighting ceremony, nimona being captured and being forced to turn into her “true” form rather than this new version with it just sort of happening bcuz of Emotions, etc. also the movie suffered from a lot of pacing and tone issues imo but the former i think is just from that lack of the slow buildup of their friendship, and the latter is something that i think just worked better in the book. idk again I’LL BE ABLE TO SAY THIS STUFF MORE CONCRETELY WHEN I ACTUALLY REREAD THE BOOK but i dont remember there being so much jokes and goofy shit DURING serious scenes. like iirc in the original during serious scenes it was SERIOUS. but in the movie theres so many unnecessary unfunny jokes and stuff. idk IDK i probably just had too high expectations idk. anyways

[scarletiswailing347]

need to find a fanfic writer bestie or something cause im in the mood (always in the mood) to draw for fanfics but i have a Lot of trouble doing so without being told first (mostly cause i have a lot of trouble reading fanfics period lol)

[spelviin]

presidential alert: category 5 song-applicable-to-blorbo event. 1 dead (me), 1 injured (also me)

anyways three by sleeping at last is THE edward teach song and i'm not okay about it

[thatskindasapphic]

Why must every hangout require that we go to the bar at some point like they aren't even that fun. Why can we not just chill somewhere else

[chuulyssa]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇳 ​​🇫​​ 🇪 ​​🇸​​ 🇸 ​​🇮 ​​🇴 ​​🇳​ ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

​ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[duckprintspress]

Duck Prints Press Kinks Your October!

Love prompt-a-day challenges? So do we, which is why we thought it would be fun to put together our own Kinktober list – assembled collaboratively with input from interested Duck Prints Press contributors. And now here we are! Welcome to the Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober challenge – 31 days of prompts, three prompts per day, loads of horny ideas there for the taking!

This is a rules-light challenge with no minimum word count or minimum art amount or whatnot. We’re kinking up your October, so anything goes! Pick one prompt per day or mix-and-match all three. Create fiction, art, graphics, playlists, or whatever else floats your boat. Fanworks or original works welcome. Combine our list with other October lists or don’t. Anything goes!! The only thing we won’t tolerate? Intolerance: no kinkshaming, shipshaming, fandom hate, etc.

We’re not reblogging or boosting works; this is a lowkey, for-fun challenge for y’all and for us. But, if you post your accurately tagged work to AO3, we encourage you to add it to the Kinks-Your-Tober 2024 collection.

Also, feel free to come hang with us on our Book Lover’s Server!

HAPPY KINKING, Y’ALL!

Full list in text form (read more):

Oct. 1: breathplay – sentient creature bestiality – collars Oct. 2: incubus/succubus – heat sex – breast worship Oct. 3: wax play – stone top – wartenberg wheel Oct. 4: xenophilia – human furniture – tailfucking Oct. 5: somnophilia – roleplaying – piercings Oct. 6: age play – oviposition – rough sex Oct. 7: nipple orgasm – suspension bondage – wireplay Oct. 8: service top – watersports – clothing kink Oct. 9: public use – tentacles – breeding kink Oct. 10: pervertable – come inflation – cigar/ash play Oct. 11: pet play – consensual non-consent – hair kink Oct. 12: knifeplay – mutual masturbation – sensation play Oct. 13: praise kink – fucking machine – wing kink Oct. 14: ice play – magical healing dick – safeword use Oct. 15: boot worship – clit/cock warming – melolagnia Oct. 16: biting – cock-and-ball torture – rut sex Oct. 17: sex work – size kink – hand/finger kink Oct. 18: exhibitionism – face sitting – underwater sex Oct. 19: blood play – vaginal/anal plug – merpeople Oct. 20: belly bulge – chastity – figging Oct. 21: objectification – voice kink – first time Oct. 22: lingerie kink – dollification – fisting Oct. 23: fire play – pampering – self-cest Oct. 24: handcuffs – hemipenes/hemiclits – glory hole Oct. 25: voyeurism – double penetration – S&M Oct. 26: lacatation – orgasm delay or denial – kneeling Oct. 27: overstimulation – dry humping – android/cyborg Oct. 28: dendrophilia – creature shifter – impact play Oct. 29: public sex – omorashi – electrical play Oct. 30: sex pollen – cunnilingus/blow job – humiliation Oct. 31: sex toys – power bottom – knotting

[thatanimewriter]

SPRING HAS SPRUNG.

➳ synopsis: it's spring time and your bird-like tendencies are hitting at full force

➳ character/s: dan heng, jing yuan, dr ratio, aventurine, sunday, midoriya izuku, tokoyami fumikage, uraraka ochako, shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki

➳ warnings: swearing, you got wings and you like nesting, very mildly suggestive (jing yuan, aventurine, sunday), spoilers for aven backstory

➳ notes: i'm back at it with bird!reader stuff because i think it's cute. will i ever do any other content with bnha that isn't birds (this is like, the 4th-), probably not LMAO

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆.

he's just come back from the luofu n is lowkey kinda stressed cause memories n stuff

so he chooses to go to your room on the express to get some cuddles in

but as soon as he walks in, he sees you on the bed, wings spread and a bunch of shirts and blankets around you

he gave a little 'aww' and removed his shoes and coat before slipping under your wing

you grunted quietly n he was lowkey like 0_0 cause he didn't wanna wake you

but you just shuffled a bit and returned to sleeping

if he doesn't fall asleep with you, he's probably slapping everything from the luofu onto the databank from his phone

he is also in vidyadhara nesting mode probably

so it's just a mess of clothes, blankets, wings and a tail in this strange huddle

maybe you can convince him to get out of the databank and ditch his futon on the floor

── 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍.

he loves being a little bit lazy, so he's probably come home earlier than he should be (don't tell fu xuan)

he's watching as you build your nest on his bed and he just chuckles and comes to help you set up PRIME abode

you have to convince him to do some of his work in the nest though, otherwise he'll just sleep under your wing

the birds that hide in his hair are living for the nest though, they all come out to have fun

the birds will preen you in your sleep ;v;

you'll be taking a nap and they're out doin whatever and then they start hoppin all over your wings and preening your wings

they don't let jing yuan do it for you, they nip him if he tries and that's the only time they'll be somewhat aggressive to him

this also sucks if you experience any form of heat or rut

all of his birds and his partner are going THROUGH it and you're all such a handful

he's gotta find a way to separate you from his birds so he can spend quality time with you

── 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎.

he also does all his work in your little nest if he isn't soaking in the bath (unlike jing yuan, he's willingly productive)

dude's a nerd, so he probably does know how to preen your wings for you if you let him

he might be reluctant to bathe WITH you if you bathe similarly to a literal bird though

thankfully he has a beeg bath though, so you have room to splash and flap the wings about

he might've gone out and bought the best blankets and pillows for you to make a nest

maybe even bought a circular bed for you both to fit so it's more nest-like

is also probably mildly annoying cause he's a smartass, so any angsty moment is kinda like guys askin if it's shark week

like a swear jar, he has a jar for how often you smack him with your wings

accident or not-

he's coping, but he loves you, so he'll stay with you in your nest and let you shove shiny things in his pockets

── 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄.

he lives for nesting season, this is his favourite time of year EVER, hands down

does call you baby bird all the time, but it's worse now that it's spring

sorta sad note, but he probably enjoys nesting season so much cause he feels a love and a warmth he never got as a kid-

wrapped in wings and you're a bit more possessive than you would normally be

comfy bed, naps (for you at least, he's got ipc work-)

he once went to work with a feather stuck in his clothes, but he ended up keeping it as an addition

maybe not in the original place, but definitely somewhere on his 'uniform'

would be annoying and keep saying he's very happy to satisfy any SPRINGTIME needs for you

to which you kick him out of your nest :))

he gets invited back in after a few hours, but he's got some groveling to do

── 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘.

he gets it, he sorta has it too

joint nest for the both of you with all your favourite blankets and pillows

obviously he doesn't have big wings like you do, but he helps preen your feathers and you get to do the same

if you nap together, he flaps his wings in your face to wake you up with a lil :3

he has all the blankets as part of the nest but his favourite blanket is your wings

kinda gatekeeps you a bit in spring, he doesn't want people he doesn't trust going near you

n he doesn't wanna leave you either, he wants to stay in the nest and cuddle and nap ;v;

probably sex as well, but-

he brings you shiny things daily, but it becomes a slight problem when you run out of shelf room

the wind power than generates from you flapping your wings in a fit is definitely more than his and he's a lil bit jealous ._.

── 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

he's got all your care instructions in his little quirk notebook, so he's all set to be by your side all spring

he will never say no to a nap in the nest, ever

when the dorm rooms come in, you've got a sunken circular bed for your nesting habits

he has a lot of photos of you tucked in, sleeping with your wings outstretched

a lot of sketches as well cause he thinks you look oh so adorable when you're hidden away in bed

highkey wishes you could permanently live in the same dorm just to have access to your nest

turns all your loose feathers into quills for fun

he brings you shiny things if he sees them when he's out and brings them to you

he thought he'd have to convince you to leave the dorms, but it's actually the opposite way around

he likes the warmth, he likes your company, why can't he stay >:((

── 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄.

he gets it pt. 2

his head is actually hair, not feathers (yeah i know right-), so you'd have to teach him how to preen your wings for you

BUT you have dark shadow as well, so tokoyami has one wing, dark shadow has the other

and you get your care done twice as fast

tokoyami nuzzles his beak into the crook of your neck when you nap

probably nibbles on your wings a little bit by accident to preen you, but you don't mind, you think it's funny

he will help you tidy and make your nest, but it might cause arguments sometimes over where pillows should go

it's a bit of a squashed bed situation if you did a sleepover

the dorm beds aren't super big for this stuff, so you can't curl up that much

but you make do with what you have

── 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐎.

she loves spring time ;v;

the nice weather, the flowers, the warmth of your nest when you set it up

also, what a great excuse for a day in should she want one???

just say that her partner is having spring time blues and you need her with you to get through it

she brings the fluffiest blankets for you both to snuggle under, but she's still getting used to the sheer size of your nest

more squish than she thought there would be cause there's SO MANY pillows

turned some of your feathers into jewellery like earrings and probably a dream catcher tbh

she can float, so if you wanna do little flying sessions, she's so down to come

chilling in the nest with a hot chocolate and a movie or series is a great way to relax at the end of a day

she will also stroke your wings if you fall asleep before her, but she'll fall asleep soon after if you do-

── 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈.

listen, he'll take ANY reason to stay home that he can, and he will be so happy to spend his day in with you

he might be a little shit and tease you for how fussy you get about your nest and your grooming

but he will cuddle with you and he will help you tidy yourself if you want him to

probably for feathers nearer your back, cause you can't reach as easily

he has a lot of photos of you sleeping in his camera roll, and if you snatch his phone in spring, it's all you

lots of little butterfly kisses all over in the mornings when you're both waking up

he also tells people to fuck off if they want either of you for something when you're actively isolating from society

his bed hair is WILD though, so maybe you have to preen him more than you initially thought

it's already a mess, but it's even more of a nest

he made a joke that you could sleep in his hair once and he spent that night in his own bed ._.

── 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈.

he will combust n explode

you're so cute when you're nesting and snuggling into your bed, his heart can't take it

he thinks you're trying to kill him, but if you are, he'll die happy at least

sometimes will grow his own wings to get double wing action when you nap in the nest

he appreciates the domesticity of spring time for you and probably thinks about what this might be like when you graduate ua

but he blushes so hard thinking about a future (with you) that he hides under your wings and doesn't resurface until he has to

it's not him who has photos of you in your nest, instead it's mirio who has the photos

he permeates through the dorm walls to tell you guys things but you're usually sleeping in your free time in spring

he says it's for the inevitable wedding so he can do a presentation about how he's your no. 1 supporter

you're jealous of tamaki, cause he doesn't have to preen his wings, he just eats chicken and grows amazing wings ;v;

[hp-hcs]

• smut (?) • like a record, baby [soulmate au]—poly! simp! mattheo riddle x poly! simp! harry potter x poly! gn! reader

hey sorry i fell off the face of the planet for like two and a half months i fell back into my old hyperfixation and started a new blog just for that and lowkey forgot abt this one and kinda fell out of the fandom lmfao anywhore—

inspired by that one Dead or Alive song

tws: sort of smut? it’s mostly implied and also like two sentences and also doesn’t involve the reader whatsoever?, lowkey bottom mattheo tbh, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to potential harry self harm :(, so fucking ooc omg

not edited if you see any mistakes shhh no you didn’t

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If I, I get to know your name / Well, if I could trace your private number, baby

Mattheo huffed, resigned. It was official; he’d finally have to talk to Scarboy.

Eight years.

Eight years of avoiding the damn boy. Eight years of ignoring the sudden sharp pains that would slice across his forehead, right where Potter’s famous scar was. Eight years of waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares that weren’t his own.

His fingers reached down on instinct to mindlessly trace the prominent soulmarks etched into his wrist. His fingertips skated over the sprawling lightning bolt mark that twisted its way up his arm, its branching lines crossing over part of his faded Dark Mark.

His fingers then marched their way across his scarred skin to the other soulmark. It was an odd black circle with a smaller red circle inside, and an even smaller circle in the center. Thin white lines following the curve of the circular shape were intermittently drawn on the black part, giving it a ridge-like visual texture.

He had no fucking clue what it was supposed to be. Neither did his mother, the one time he’d worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

Potter might, a little voice in his head whispered. He was raised by Mudbloods. If it’s a Muggle symbol, he might know what it is.

Fuck. He really would have to get over himself and talk to Scarboy.

~~~

I, I got to be your friend now, baby

“It’s a vinyl.”

Mattheo paused. “What?”

“The mark. It’s a vinyl.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip down. “It’s an old-fashioned way Muggles used to play music.”

“Music? Is it an instrument?” Mattheo asked, his eyes lingering for just a second too long on Harry’s slender fingers. Potter had taken the news of being Mattheo’s soulmate surprisingly well. He’d just shrugged and nodded, saying he already knew.

Mattheo looks between his and Harry’s exposed forearms. His skin itches to pull his sleeve down, to cover up the shameful mark of his father burned into his flesh for eternity. Harry’s arm is also scarred, but in a much different way. Both bear the same circular soulmark—the vinyl, as Potter had called it—although their other soulmarks differed. Mattheo’s was the obvious lightning bolt, while Harry’s was a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that formed the shape of a snake.

And I would like to move in just a little bit closer

“Sort of,” Harry answered his original question, doing his best to explain as his fingers tracing the identical vinyl soulmark on his own wrist. “It’s just a plastic disk. When you put it on a record player, it spins, and a little needle follows the grooves. It plays whatever music was recorded onto it.”

“Uh huh,” Mattheo hummed in acknowledgment a half-second too late, too busy focusing on Harry’s fingers. Had they always looked that good?

Harry smirked and reached over, lacing their hands together. Mattheo’s skin promptly heated up about ten degrees and the skin under his soulmark sizzled with a pleasant buzz before radiating a soft silver glow.

That’s it. They were together; now, until forever.

~~~

Mattheo’s legs shook, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to bleed. “A-ah~ P-Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” The man in question, currently hidden underneath a library table, pulled off. “That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Harry!”

“That’s it. Good boy.”

~~~

All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun

They refused to call it the Yule Ball this year. After all, the war was over, there was no reason to continue separating Muggleborns and Purebloods with something as silly as a school dance.

So, much to the horror of many a Pureblood parent, Hogwarts was hosting Prom this year.

Open up your lovin' arms / Watch out, here I come

Harry was having a blast. Admin had insisted on only playing Muggle music at Prom, and it had been a wonderfully painful mix of *Nsync, Outkast, and Ricky Martin.

“You have to dance with me,” Harry demanded, pulling Mattheo out onto the dance floor by his arm.

Mattheo stumbled, still not used to the odd formal attire Muggles wore. (A tuxedo, Harry had informed him it was called.) Although he’d never say it aloud, he preferred the tux over his usual dress robes. So much easier to move around in; why were dress robes ever on the table as an option?

~~~

You spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round / Like a record, baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round

You spin around in a circle with Hermione, both of you doing your best to teach Pansy Parkinson—Hermione’s soulmate—how to dance anything other than ballroom-style.

All three of you were laughing like mad, spinning around and around until you all got dizzy.

All three of you tried to stumble off the dance floor and back to the table you’d called dibs on earlier in the night. As you’re stumbling back, dizzy, you bump into a pair of men.

Suddenly, your outfit feels a lot stuffier than it did before. You feel hot all over.

One of the men grabs your bicep to try to steady you. His hands are slick with sweat. The other also looks rather warm, his face flushed. All three of you stare at each other as a bright silver glow emanating from three people’s wrists suddenly cuts through the dimmed lights of the dance floor.

I want your love.

[winterarmyy]

Around My Scars

Glimpses of mafia!bucky and his wife's arranged married life.

Summary: A careless decision leads to Bucky almost losing his wife.

Note: Read 《 Plot Twist 》 for backstory of the couple.

Words: 5.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, physical assault (not from bucky), sexual assault (not from bucky), graphic violence, reader is lowkey a badass, pussyjob, reader on top but bucky in control, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, extra soft!bucky, fluff, tiny angst, etc.

P/S: If you have not read the original story yet. You can read it first for backstory. If not, you still can read it as standalone. And for those who came from plot twist series, I noticed there's a lot of you wanting more from this couple. So here's one of the glimpses of what happen somewhere in the future. Enjoy ♡

Read my other works here: Masterlist

All her life, she never thought a kiss could be this gentle. In fact every time Bucky's lips graced on her skin, it was impossibly tender. His kisses trailed along her bare back, from the center of her waist up to the back of her shoulder.

His lips followed the surrounding shape of her scarring wounds, as if he was tracing the shadows of them. His hot breath fanning against her cold skin and the deep, and subtle hum of his voice lulled her to near slumber.

Unlike his soft pillowy lips, his hands however were the opposite. His right was calloused and warm while the other was smooth and cold. Yet both of them were cupping her bare breasts perfectly; they felt so good on her skin.

It felt good like this; nothing in between them. Not even a single piece of clothing separating them apart. Bare and naked.

"Bucky..." a quiet moan was drawn from her lips as his hands squeeze her softness before they roamed around her frame.

Bucky only tightens his hold on her upon hearing her voice. It was if he was afraid that she was not real. As if she was just an illusion he was despretely holding onto.

He pulled her impossibly closer, his metal arm wrapped around her waist, gripping on the side while his right hand palming her chest, right above where her heart was beating.

She's real. She's here.

His own voice reassured his doubtful mind.

However, Y/N was getting nothing from her husband. Only grunts and growl and him snuggling into her, "Bucky, baby? What's wrong, honey?" she coaxed him softly as her hand reached back to played with his hair.

It took a few moments of silence before Bucky finally replied, his voice sounded like regret, "It's my fault, y/n."

~ ~ Flashback ~ ~

It was a normal day for the couple. A lovely day, in fact. They were on one of their 'undercover' dates. At least, that what Y/N called it. A name she came up with that makes Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Apparently, after the diner date they had before, they find themselves wanting more of it. The normality of life outside of the reality they lived in. And they surely made it a weekly schedule. Not that it was chore for them though, it never was, never will be.

After visiting the Brooklyn Book Festival and basically almost hauling the displays, they were planning to eat the new cafe near the location. But, as soon as they find the seats, Bucky got a call.

He was not supposed to even received any call.

That was one of the rules he set himself; no business during their dates. For whatever reason, this one got through him.

"Probably something huge." Y/N guessed as she watched Bucky excuses himself to pickup the call.

And her hunch was true. It was a huge deal. Especially when she saw his expression when he was approaching their table.

"I'm sorry, sweets. I really hate to leave you like this." He apologized when Y/N said she was okay to eat lunch alone.

"It's okay, I'm already here so it'd be a waste to completely cancel the plan." She continued to justify her decision for the reasons that the new café was hard to book a table, as if Bucky couldn't just book the whole goddamn café everyday for the rest of their life for her.

But, in the end, she did managed to persuade him. Bucky gentlely pulled her by the chin, before placing a soft kiss on her lips; whispering promises to make it up for her.

As his promises were laced with sweetness and sin, Y/N couldn't help but to smile against his lips, humming in agreement before watching him jog to the car.

She waved him a final goodbye and smiled at Steve who came to pick him up. The car drove away, leaving two of Bucky's men behind to look after Y/N.

If only Bucky knew how careless his decision was to leave those particular men in charge of his wife. Both were high on drugs and was not in a condition to be on duty. Especially a duty as important as protecting the lady of mansion.

At first it wasn't clear why she felt a little out after her lunch. She thought she would be fine after a little walk at the nearby park but she was wrong. Utterly wrong; especially when her vision went dark all of the sudden.

When she woke up in that basement, it clicked her. Her drink or food must have been spiked.

How long has it been since? How far away is she now from Bucky? Y/N woke up knowing nothing. Not knowing the place she was in nor the duration she had passed out.

Her heart was pumping fast, all the while her body was deadly cold. She was expecting to be tied up on a chair, at least she could try wiggle herself out of it but luck wasn't on her side.

Metal chains securely cuffed around her wrists as well as her ankles. Her movement was limited as the end of the chains were attached to the wall behind here. Anxiety threatens her to cry but she tried to stay calm.

Y/N looked at her surroundings. It seems to be a run down basement. There's lack of natural light source; the very little lighting were coming from the dim fluorescent lamp right above her head and another two in different location.

Clearly some empty bottles of alcohol were scattering all over the place. But none of those items were close enough for her to reach out to. Y/N heard laughs from behind the rusty metal door. It had two distinct voices; one deep and another was rather squeaky.

A clacking sound seemed to indicate that someone was unlocking the door. As the door opened, a man in his mid 30s walked in with a cruel smile.

He walked closer followed by two other man behind him; both were armed. Y/N frantically crawled back to meet her back to the walls behind her, the metal chains rubbed with each other, breaking the silence in the room.

"Stay back!" she warned.

The brutal man took a chair and sat in front of her. He looked like that type of person who would do anything for power. He had nothing but fiery eyes.

He look down and said "What's your name, sweetheart?" his voice demand nothing but a clear answer.

Y/N glared up to him, "I'd tell you, but I don't like being labelled." If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. The man could see she was not afraid to bite if he reach his hands out.

He chuckled darkly, "You're funny..." But unfortunately, he wasn't the type to reach out, he's more likely to; lash out.

The silenced room was once again tainted with sound, but this it wasn't just the moving chains but there was also the sound created from the impact of the harsh slap across Y/N's face.

The back of his hand hit and she fell with the force of it, "Urghh.." she groaned as she fall flat on the ground. The man continued, "... but not funny enough."

She can taste the coppery liquid on her tongue; she must have injured herself. Her cheeks stings as hell but Y/N was never the type to stay quiet and cry in front of people, especially to her enemies.

She giggled eerily as she sat back up, the undying flames in her eyes burn brighter, "Well that was fucking weak." she spat out the blood right on his shiny black shoes.

The man slipped out hysterical laugh, "I see why he like to keep you around." he smirked and stood from the chair. He dragged the rickety wooden chair away and threw it farther away than the original position.

Y/N had her gaze as strong as her will to live. The man look back to the tiny woman on the dusty floor before walking away. "Sir, what do we do with the girl?" One of the guards asked.

The man stopped midway through the door and stay silence for awhile, a wicked thought came through him, "Do whatever you want to do. As long as she remains alive." he snapped his head back to display a meaningful malicious grin and closed the doors behind him.

It was just a second of a glimpse, but the man clearly saw Y/N's despair in her expression. Too bad he had to go so soon.

As the doors closed, the two man look at each other and back to Y/N. A person doesn't need be a genius to read the mood. She knew exactly what's going to happen and for the first time a long time, she was petrified. For the first time in forever, she was scared for her life.

She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one would, no one was there.

A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, "Get away! Don't come any closer!" she felt a drop run down her cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Y/N roared hoping the two man had a little bit fear but considering her position, that obviously not going to happen.

The man fearless and shamelessly grabbed her despite she was crying out pleads. "Come now, sweets. Make this easy for us."

Sweets. It sounds so disgusting coming from another man.

One of the man grabbed a hold of her wrists while another took his time feasting her with his eyes.

"P-please don't d-do this..." she sniffled as her strength were getting weaker, despite all of the quarrels and battle she had gone through before, she should be fearless.

But, when one is looking into eyes that lurked with such dark lust as those she was seeing right now; fear is bound to creep in. No matter how strong-willed a person see themselves as.

"Don't worry, we'll be gentle if you behave." he licked his upper lips as he run his hand along her waist up to her chest.

It was disgusting, every cells on Y/N's body was rejecting his touch; her throats seemed like it was trying to force her to puke something out but there's nothing but the nausea.

Tears kept falling down as they escape from the corner of her eyes. She was beyond terrified, even with her struggling; it seemed to be useless.

The man grabbed on the fabric of her sundress that was framing her collarbone and forcibly ripped them apart, exposing Y/N in her bra. The man scanned her body once more, cock straining in his pants.

Damn, she looked like sin.

He managed to gripped her hands together in one hand before she could protest even more. His other hand reaching to her breast.

No.

His rough grip on her breast was only bringing her pain than pleasure. But he was rather enjoying the tenderness of her body.

No.

He dipped in closer; he stuck his tongue out to lick the valley of her breasts, leaving trails of his disgusting stickiness behind.

Stop.

He hummed in satisfaction, approving the way she tasted. His bulge rubbing against her clothed core, humping for pleasure. Y/N couldn't look at him.

Please, stop.

But the moment she looked away, she made eye contact to the other man behind him. He had his cock in his hand, lazy strokes and a wicked smile when the tears fell down from her eyes.

"So pretty, baby" he mouthed.

For a moment there Y/N stopped struggling. She sat still like a doll who loses its' battery power, the man's statement rang in her head in an infinite loop.

"You're beautiful, y/n" Bucky's voice resurfaced in her mind.

"You're always going to be mine." the voice continued.

"I'm always going to be there to protect you, sweets."

The flashbacks run through her head faster than a bullet train.

Seeing how Y/N stopped moving, they thought she gave up. But then again, some people never learn. Don't ever underestimate your opponent.

She get the hold of herself, pulled her head back and headbutt the man in front of her. She didn't even care if she could get a concussion herself from the impact. The man ended up falling back on his ass as he grunts in pain.

"Stay. The Fuck. Away. From Me." She threatened.

Though her defiant only spark anger from the man, rather than fear. When he regained his balance, he slipped the leather belt from his pants, "You asked for this little girl. So be it." he grunts as he pulled a hand back.

His palm strikes her on already stinging cheeks, making her fall on her chest. Before she could pushed herself up, she was forced to stay down as the man pressed his boots at the back of her head.

"You need to be trained like a bitch. And I'm gonna give you exactly that." His words only sounded like a warning to her.

Which was exactly it, when she felt the first strike of his belt across her back. It was one of many mean and harsh whipping on her delicate skin. Until she was aching, bleeding.

As sick as he was, enjoying the thrill of torturing a defenseless girl, the other man was much more twisted, as he kept stroking himself as he watched Y/N bleed and whimpered.

It was disgusting, it was painful; And at one point her hands were reaching around only to clung on the man's other foot.

Surprisingly he stopped, "Learnt your lessons yet, mutt?"

Y/N can hear his sinister smile despite her face planted on the floor. She didn't reply, the only sound can be heard from her, is her unstable breathing.

Wanting as answer, he foolishly pulled his foot away from her head, "Are you deaf? Answer me!" He pushed.

Foolish he was.

Y/N fought against the agonizing pain on her back and took the advantage to pull his leg as hard as she could, making his fall on the floor. She was swift with her next move; she hit the man's groin with her elbow, automatically lower the protection his other part of his body.

As he was busy tending his wounded balls, Y/N slide behind him and wrapped the chains around his neck, she yanked the man as she tighten the crossover metal chains.

"You better stay the fuck away from me or he's dead." She warned the other man who was trying to get to her, he called her bluff. He took a step closer, still pushing his luck.

Y/N strengthen her grip as well as pulling the chain as hard as she could, practically strangling and knocking out the breath out of his throat. "S-Stop. S-stay there." the dying man stuttered.

The other obliged and had his hand up in the air as a sign of surrender. Y/N glared up to the man, "Lay your filthy hands on me again, I won't hold back." she growled in his ears before drifting his head towards the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Upon seeing his accomplice slouched to the floor with a bleeding head, the other man tried to grabbed and hold her down. But she quickly grabbed the gun from the unconscious man, and pulled the trigger.

Her aim was off but enough to disarm him. His right shoulder now had a hole through it. He grunted to agonizing pain on his shoulder, but he should've known to not let his guard down. Then, it hits him. Another hole through the shins of his left leg.

He screamed and wailed, sucking air in and out of his mouth, holding on to the last cliff of his life as he fell into his knees and down to the floor.

Despite the lack of protest from the man, Y/N didn't let her guard down as she still holding on the gun in her grip.

At this point, Y/N was losing more than just her blood, but her strength and vision too. She blinked slowly, waiting for glimpse of threat from the entrance.

Even if the two men were rendered immobilized, however she knew gunshot will alert the others. Anyone could barge in at any point of time. And she needed to be ready for them.

The door was getting blurry in her point of view and the cracking headache greeted as painful as the other wounds all over her back.

The dark silence didn't last long as Y/N can clearly heard a lot of movements from the level above her. One time she heard multiple footsteps running around and another she heard loud cracks much resembles a sound of a "Gun shots..." she breathed.

It took a single kick on the rusty old metal door; Y/N's body jumped out of reflex to the sound of the door fall from it's frame. As the door fell down, it revealed the face of a man who Y/N thought she could never see ever again.

His face were painted with the colour of crimson, almost covering half of his beautiful features; but his sapphire eyes shines the same. Even if her hearts was pumping fast, it seemed like the man was more desperate for air than she herself.

A sense of relief hit her like the crashing wave as she called out his name, "Bucky..."

Bucky stood there,dark and dangerous; just a few steps away from the woman he claimed as his. His heart seemed to stop for a split second; there she was — crawled in the corner of the dim lit room, both hands and legs chained to the wall behind her.

It's not that Bucky couldn't see there were others in the basement besides her; he knew that, he could see them but the nudity of his wife's chest caught his attention and he could see the pieces of her torn clothes were near her wounded ankles and wrists.

The cuts on around her skin, cause by the metal cuffs symbolizes her struggles. The bright pair of eyes that Bucky had always admired; they glint, however, in pain and tears.

A sight that Bucky never wanted to see.

Frozen in his spot, Y/N gathered all the strength she had left, to shout his name once again, "Come here, Bucky..." the sound of the strained metal chain echoed along with her shaky plead, as she reach her arms out towards her husband.

Pleading for his touch, his warmth.

It took less than a second after hearing her calling, for Bucky to sprint towards her. Completely ignoring the riot of bullets echoed from above them, even stepping on the men on the floor.

He had lost her for less than seven hours, but it felt like forever. Bucky fell down to his knees as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her head to his chest. He hold onto her tightly, as if someone was trying to rip her away from his grasps.

It was slight, but Bucky could clearly feel her body shivering body in his embrace as she cried to his chest, a piercing pain struck his heart, "I'm here. I'm here." he whispered softly.

His hand found it's way to her back, wanting to give her a tender stroke of reassurance but he found himself frozen to the sensation on his palm.

At first he felt it; wet and sticky. But when he brought his hands up to the light, he finally saw how his whole palm were covered in blood. Her blood. His wife's blood.

A wave of pure rage reigned his whole being and what happen that day had become one of the things Bucky's men will never forget.

Bucky made sure it rain blood that day.

And it was truly a gruesome sight to see.

~ ~ End of Flashback ~ ~

Since the day Y/N woke up in their bed, Bucky never left her side. Not even for his business, for weeks now Bucky had temporarily place the authority to Steve and he had spend his day tending his wife as he should.

Now, weeks later from that day, Bucky is claiming that it was his fault that she was kidnapped?

No, it absolutely was not. Far from it. How is y/n getting kidnapped is his fault? How is y/n getting tortured is his blunder? That does not make any sense. Not in any universe.

"I should've been there with you." He explained.

Bucky's kisses took a halt in the crook of her neck, he relishes the sweet scent emitting from her as his lips rested on her weak spot. Where does the scent coming from? Was it from her body lotion or from her shampoo. Eitherway, it was intoxicating.

He almost felt guilty for finding a calming relief from it. He wasn't nearly worthy enough to find peace in her. And yet here he was; selfish and greedy for the friction of her touch, the influence of her scent, the melody of her moans, all of her.

Y/N release herself from his embrace and swiftly changed her position to straddling him. His eyes searched her face, wondering if she was uncomfortable and how can he please her.

She run her hands through his hair as she chooses her words carefully, "Yes, you should. But that doesn't justify why you blame yourself for it." She leaned into him, brushing the tip of her nose on his.

Before Bucky can protest, Y/N shuts him up with a kiss on his lips, "It was not your fault. No one knew that they going to spike my drink. No one knew that they managed to drug up your men. Honey, it was an accident. It was not your fault, it never was and never will be." She was only speaking the truth, even Bucky couldn't argue.

He leaned his forehead on her before speaking up, "I just hate seeing you get hurt, sweets." Bucky sighed, as a frown formed on his face.

Y/N does not want Bucky to dwell in this darkness again. He kept doing it for the past weeks, and though some days she managed to pull him out, some other she failed. This worries her; it scared her.

Bucky might not notice it right now since his mind was blurry with worry; but if he was more aware of his surroundings he might just notice how Y/N was slowly leaking on his cock. His girth was slotted perfectly between her pussy and the sight of it turns her on.

It's been awhile since they feel each other; due to her injuries Bucky was constantly worrying about hurting her during sex.

And she was desperate for him, she want him to remove all the bad memories of that day. Douse her with his touch, mark her body so the traces of the man will no longer bear any meaning to her.

Her cunt twitches to the thought, she couldn't help but to grind her hips. Letting his cock glides through her folds; getting it wet from her fluids, "Then love on me, Bucky." It was an instant respond from Bucky, his cock was growing hard on command.

His gaze briefly fell on where his cock was buried between, before looking up to her hazy eyes. "...If you don't want to see me hurt. Then make love to me, let me show you how good you make me feel." She coaxed as her hips continues to grind on him.

Each movement causing throbs of need on her clit. She kept brushing it along his length, presses a little force when it reached to the tip of cock. Bucky moaned in sheer pleasure everytime she did that.

"Please, Bucky I miss you..” She mumbled softly, rolling her hips a bit, making him groan as he melted, "I miss you too, babydoll." He breathes out deeply before placing a sweet kiss on lips.

Bucky held her by the side of her hips and pushes her down further, as he slowly thrusted his hard throbbing cock in between the wet slit of her pussy.

The immense sensation on her was beyond words to describe. She thought she knew pleasure before but turn out she was wrong. Unable to even utter a single coherent word, Bucky on the other hand wasn't planning disappoint her.

Bucky's thrusts get faster and rougher by time until he started to hump her almost uncontrollably, letting out these little desperate groans.

"Feel so good, Buck-- ah shit--" Y/N moaned, her face flushed pink, mouth hanging open as her pussy throbbed against his drenched cock. Every time he push forward, he could feel himself spreading the lips of her pussy apart.

His pace did not drop as his goal is to make her cum just by him fucking through her folds alone. He want see her feeling good. And sure enough, she began to whimper, "I'mma cum. Bucky, please don't stop. I'm cumming."

Bucky leaned into her ears and whispered, "Go ahead, babydoll. Cum for me. Let me see your face when I make you cum. That's it baby, hmmm, so pretty. Can feel ya clenching. Feels good doesn't it, sweets. Yeah you do." He held her still as he thrusted against her slick again and again, letting her ride her high; his pace was faster and maybe a bit more desperate than before while she from her orgasm.

Bucky caught her from falling back into the mattress, he leaned her body towards himself. Letting her rest on his chest. Slow drag of his cock on her pussy felt so good, she might have had a mini orgasm from it.

"Babydoll, gonna make you feel even more better. Gonna stuff your pussy full. Can I? Promise it'll make you feel so good. Want that, sweets?" Bucky coaxed her with sinful temptation that she couldn't resist.

"Yes please. Wanna be stuffed and full of you and your cum. Please?" She didn't need to beg like that for Bucky to comply.

His hand searched for hers before he interlock her fingers with him. He sit her up on her knee, using one of his free hand to line the tip of his cock at her entrance. 

Y/N's whole body trembled when he thrust himself up into her one swift movement. He watch as her eyes are furrowed shut, lips parted in pleasure. Her knuckles whiten as they grip the sheets and his hand.

Oh she was so full. So full of him.

Bucky bite his lip at the feeling of being inside her, the clenching her walls around his needy cock. He lift her up off him slowly, ceating a slow but deep pace, she let the sounds of his deep groans fill her ears. He’s not noisy, but just very vocal, every breath coming out as moan of pleasure.

"You’re so good for me, Bucky."  She praise breathlessly. "So good".

His hips buck up and she hiss as he inadvertently thrusts into her deeper than before. "God," he almost whined, lost at the feel of her warm cunt.

Y/N was also feeling as good. The sting of the stretch was amazing. She bite back her moan as he rubbed all over her favourite spots inside, "Hmmpph! Buck- ahh. please, ahh-- fuck me so good." She let out a breathy mumbling noises as he continue drill his cock in and out of her.

"Feels amazing being inside you, sweets. So warm, so wet. Fuck-- yeah just that, milk me like that yeahh" Bucky's hips moved upwards and downward as he fucks her rough and messy, holding her tightly against his body as he bounces her up and down on his cock.

Both of the pair of eyes never left each other. Eyes roaming to stare either at each others fucked-out face or to where their sex was connected.

How lewd it was; the way he languidly pumps himself in and out of her. How her small little hole could swallow his cock perfectly in each of his hips thrusts. How beautiful the sweat glistens across her skin;

The way Bucky dips his head into her to pepper kisses on her neck, the way his brows furrow when he gives a particularly deep thrust. Every single thing about it was beautiful.

Bucky felt so thick inside of her and he's hitting so deep, it felt fucking incredible. She can feel the pressure building inside of her, "i'm gonna cum again... oh god, bucky baby,-- ahh fuck-- "

Bucky encouraged her with with low growl and she moaned raggedly as she came on his cock; squeezing him tight, and his thrusts become even wilder, "fuck yes, squeezing me so nice. Gonna cum inside ya, sweets. Will have my load leaking from your pussy baby." his groan were starting to sound more desprete.

Still high on orgasm, she nods in agreement, "yes, Bucky. Wanna feel you leaking please" She pleaded as she felt another wave of pleasure was trying to burst.

Bucky's thrusts loses it's pattern as he chased his high, "oh fuck, i'm cummin' inside ya, sweets! Fuck fuck fuck" strings of curses spilled before he let out a long moan as his cock burst on his high, filling her to the brim with his thick hot cum.

Naturally, she came as well, accompanied by a sweet mewl as her walls pulsed around him while he empties ropes and ropes of his cum inside her, whimpering into her ear.

When he's finally finished he gives a long, contented sigh he slowly lay on the bed, gently bringing her along as he rested her head on his chest. With his cock still resting in her throbbing pussy, Bucky thought of going for round two.

But when he heard the soft snores coming from his wife, he put that thought in a backlog, and instead decided to help clean his babydoll up so she could get a better rest as she deserved.

By the time she was well taken care of, Bucky scrolled through his text messages with Steve. The 'temporary in charge' was apparently also in charge of depriving life out of the two men who had assaulted Y/N.

"Are they dead yet?" Bucky prompted.

"No. They beg to though." Steve replied.

"Then, let them beg to death." Bucky ended the conversation, before placing his phone aside.

Though he takes pleasure in torturing his prey with his own bare hands however nothing is more important than being by his wife's side when she needed him the most.

Besides, those scum will live long enough for Bucky to come down there and bring hell to them himself. He will make sure of that. But until then, nothing matters to Bucky than being here for his babydoll.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

P/S: I love reading feedbacks so drop your comment in the comment section or reblogs.

There is no actual taglist. So, I only include those who reblogged with comments and/or commented on the previous series. However, do tell if you want or do not want to be tagged.

Taglist: @melsunshine @splendidreads @florence-end @spn-obession @my-lady-of-the-various-sorrows @buuuuuuucky @raevyng @kamaria-sweet-writes @chemtrails-club @just-another-writer-05 @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @thezombieprostitute @wifeofbarnes @oldermenaremyreligion @bemysugarbean @thischubbydumpling @barnes1031 @winterslove1917 @barnesstanbucky @butterflyimmortality @iamfandomwasted @goldensunflowe-r

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like

A/N: Hey y'all! I'm not really a writer so this is my first time posting any writing here on Tumblr, but I'm apparently incapable of not thinking about Armando (*Whatta Man by Salt-N-Pepa plays in my head) so this kind of...happened. I figured I'd share ☺️ Also, I know Armando thinks Aretas is his dad in the movies but I changed it a bit.

Title is from Satisfaction by SiR (if you haven't heard it do yourself a favor and go listen)

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Shay (OC) wants to get to know Armando better and figures her best bet is to ask when he's...relaxed.

Warnings ⚠️: Uh...complicated parental relationships. Talk of smut, but no actual smut.

“Tell me something.”

“Hm?”

Shay kept her focus on drawing invisible shapes on Armando’s shoulder with her finger. Her blue stiletto shaped nails going down almost to his elbow before finding its way back up to his collar bone. It was something she did often after they had sex and she knew it calmed him much like it was now. His breathing had slowed into something calmer than the frantic breaths of ten minutes ago when he was trying to catch his breath. The open window blew in a decent ocean breeze, adding to the peaceful feeling in her bedroom. She tried to play it cool, like she wasn’t disturbing the moment, wasn’t asking him to do the one thing she knew he hated - opening up.

Shay had been seeing Armando for about three months now, and she knew next to nothing about the man. She knew it was a red flag, hell she knew he probably wasn’t a law abiding citizen, but she couldn’t help it. 

There was something so magnetizing, so sensual about his presence. He commanded attention even though she got the feeling he wanted nothing more than to blend in and be lowkey. She couldn’t help but notice the way he held himself, the way he spoke and moved with the confidence of a man who was sure of himself. Don’t get her started on the way he smelled - it was divine and pure man.

The point was basically this - he was a ten but he refused to tell her more about himself.

Shay was determined to get to know him better, because despite playing things close to his chest, she was in love with him. She didn’t know his last name, but she knew he would bring her flowers and food if she was having a bad day just to make her smile. She didn’t know what he did for a living - honestly, part of her was glad for this if it was illegal as she was imagining. Plausible deniability. - but she knew if she needed him to, he would fix anything she needed him to or at least find someone who could. She didn’t know what his crucible entailed that made him like this, but she knew he loved her like she was something precious.

So she was taking the risk that this would blow up in her face. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know.” She kissed his chest, like she was softening the blow of the question. Not that she needed to, it was an open ended question on purpose. The more freedom she gave about the topic, the more likely he was to answer.

He gently shifted her to the pillow as he lifted himself on his elbow, facing her with a suspicious look on his face. “Like what?” God, what she wouldn’t give to take whatever hurt that made him so distrustful of her just wanting to know him away. Who had betrayed him? Who took advantage of his trust and made him so wary of genuine love?

She thought over her answer, a million topics coming to mind but needing to pick one that wouldn’t have him shutting down immediately. Armando had let the conversation start but he could end it if she said the wrong thing.

“Your family.” She could feel him pulling away as if it was physically happening so she quickly explained her choice. “Did you grow up with siblings? Are your parents married?” Bare minimum. 

It seemed to have worked he looked at her as if debating what to say, if anything, before laying back down and staring at the ceiling. The relaxed man that was in her bed mere minutes ago, gone. Now he was tense, as if ready for a fight. She slowly and obviously resumed her previous position on his chest, giving him time to tell her no if he needed the space. Her nails went back to their drawings in the hopes of calming him enough to talk. He took a breath before, “I grew up an only child. My mom was my world, she taught me everything I knew.”

Her nails stopped moving. “Was?” It was the word that caught the most of her attention out of everything he just said.

“She passed away a few years ago.” His face was blank, as if he was just stating a fact of life rather than talking about the death of the person that raised him and whom he clearly loved.

Shay rubbed the shoulder she wasn’t laying on in an effort to comfort him.“I’m sorry to hear that.” Armando shrugged it off but she could tell it still hurt him. “What about your dad?”

“Our relationship is…complicated at best. He wasn’t around for most of my life. We were introduced a few months before my mom died. I didn’t even know who he was to me until my mom told me on her deathbed.” 

“You never asked your mom about him before?”

“If there was one thing I knew about my father growing up, it was that my mom hated him. She always told me that he left us behind and didn’t look back at all. As a kid I was curious but as I got older, I started to hate him too. I mean he was supposed to love my mom, and he turned on her and left me behind like I was trash. Fuck ‘im. Now I know it wasn’t so black and white.”

“How so?”

“The few times my mom spoke about him, she always heavily implied that he knew she was pregnant with me and left anyway. Looking back, she never said the words. When I confronted my father about it, he said they were a doomed couple that wasn’t ever going to last. They were both too selfish. Said he didn’t even know she had been pregnant until we met.”

“Sounds like he cares. I mean if he knew do you think he would have been around?”

“There’s no doubt in my mind he would have been there, raised me. I know he loves me, that he just wants what’s best for me, but I’m just having a hard time accepting it. I spent so much time hating him that reconciling this truth with this perception I’ve always had of him is hard.”

“Not to mention it means confronting that you didn’t know your mom as well as you thought you did. The woman she was to you isn’t the woman she was to others.”

“And she’s not here to explain it, which just makes me mad all over again. He’s usually the target of my anger.”

“Makes sense to me.” She shrugged in response to his questioning look. “He’s here. Add in the fact that he wasn’t there for so long its easy to blame him for a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Like a flip had been switched, he once again moves her onto the bed and hovers over her.

“Enough about them. Talking is not exactly what I had in mind for us tonight,” he pleads. 

She could see the desperation and fear in his eyes. She had a feeling that being that honest with her scared him. He wasn’t exactly the vulnerable type and telling her all this put him on display in the most raw way, an unknown for him. It also meant he had to be honest with himself about he felt, something she didn’t think happened a lot. He wanted to escape the real hurt he was feeling about it all, he didn’t want to face what the truth might mean for his memory of his mother. If a reprieve is what he needed, she could do that for him. She would do that for him.

She bit her bottom lip, looking at him through her lashes, feeling herself get wet at his suggestive tone and slight touches. “What did you have in mind?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

The next morning she woke up alone, his side of the bed cold. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence as he often left before she woke. She was used to him leaving and coming back randomly, sometimes being gone for days. After their conversation and the way he seemed to just need her last night, she figured this was coming. Something told her him leaving was different this time, that she had pushed him too far. She had the sickening feeling that he wasn’t coming back.

Round two had been fast and rough, needy in a way. Round three had been teasing and playful, like he was apologizing for being so rough before. Round four was…slow and passionate, reverent almost.

It felt like a goodbye.

A/N: 🫣So how'd I do? Let me know in the comments. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated! OH AND HOW SHOULD I TAG THIS?! Anything I should add to get more people to see it?

Part 2 Part 3

[eilishsmuse]

comfortable silence is so overrated

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. it’s been four months after the whole incident between billie and you. after many mental breakdowns the past months you’ve finally got over it. billie on the other hand could say otherwise. when you see her at a party she pulls you for a chat. but why?

cw. swearing, drinking, confessions, toxicity, billie realizing she fucked up, billie is also a total mess, dumping feelings, lowkey sexual tension

soundtrack. from the dinning table – harry styles

original. i hate that i can’t love you

It’s been a while since the argument with Billie. You two haven’t spoken since. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

For a while, you were completely wrecked ever since the whole situation happened. For a good month you had to do no-contact with everyone you knew. You felt embarrassed and ashamed for what you felt toward Billie. You both agreed on the contract. At least that’s what you kept on telling yourself.

Now 4 months later you were completely over it.

You were sat on a couch at one of your friends backyard house party here in LA. He worked within the music industry and was the main reason you met Billie.

You had a red solo cup in hand. With whatever concoctions your friend mixed for the party.

As your friend group started talking about some gossip within the celebrity slash influencer industry your eyes started drifting around.

People watching.

As your eyes scanned the room they took a quick double take at a certain somebody. Billie.

She’s laughing with a bunch of her friends and they’re all standing around her like she’s the leader of their ‘posse’. You immediately look away and immediately feel uneasy as her face is now engraved in your mind.

You excuse yourself from your friends to go get a drink, swiftly getting off the couch and walking over towards the bar area.

Billie takes a quick inventory of the house party her friend had invited her to. Tons of people she recognizes from the music industry, but also not a lot of people she likes either. Her gaze falls from group to group, finally landing back on her friends.

A few influencers from social media, a couple of producers from her record label...and a familiar face.

Billie’s heart does a backflip as her eyes land on you, noticing how beautiful you looked in that leather skirt with that tight red laced top.

Shit.

Immediately, she has an almost visceral reaction to the sight of you.

Everything about you looks so good, from your hair to your outfit.

Billie wants to go up to you, grab you and lock you in a room, kiss you until you can’t even remember your own name.

But she can’t.

She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes glued on you from across the room.

You order a coconut margarita from the bartender and let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second.

The music was loud in your ears and hard in your chest. And on top of that your heart was already beating out your chest thanks to Billie being here.

You opened your eyes again to your drink being set in front of you. You mutter a small thanks to the bartender and immediately take a sip from the margarita glass.

Billie’s eyes follow you as you order the drink, the sight of you talking to the bartender making her heart jump into her throat.

Jesus, you’re even more beautiful in person than in her memory.

Billie grips the solo cup in her hand tighter, watching as you take a sip from the glass. She tries to swallow, dry throat making it hard.

For a few seconds, Billie considers going over to you.

What would she even say? She can’t tell you that she’s missed you. The contract was clear. No feelings.

Billie has been completely unable to get you out of her mind since the fight. Her heart aches every time she thinks about the way your face looked, so upset and pleading...

Billie bites her lip as you move to walk away from the bar.

Hell, she has to talk to you. At least let you know something.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Billie starts towards you. Her heart is throbbing against her ribcage, nearly threatening to burst through every time she takes a step forward.

Deep breath. Just talk to her. You’re just talking to her.

Billie arrives next to you, standing a few inches away and trying to look relaxed.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to the side to the familiar voice and you’re immediately met with those stupidly, beautiful blue eyes.

You don’t react physically.

But your heart and head are sure as hell pounding inside.

“Hi.”

Billie’s not used to you not having a big reaction to her presence.

When you turn towards her, she’s again hit with how attractive you are, her eyes involuntarily flicking down your body.

Billie quickly brings her eyes back up, meeting yours. She’s a little speechless.

“You look,” she coughs. “You look good.”

What is she even saying?? Billie, get it together for crying out loud.

Your eyebrows raise for a split second but then furrow in part confusion and surprise.

You open your mouth to say ‘you too’ but you don’t wanna give Billie the satisfaction of feeling like she has you wrapped around her finger all over again.

Even though she does look good in her backwards cap and those fucking glasses—

Stop it, Y/N.

Instead you stop the words from leaving your mouth and give her a small smile, “Thanks.”

God, your smile could kill her.

Billie’s heart does a little backflip when you do, the familiarity of it making her chest ache.

She’s missed you. She’s missed you so damn much, but she can’t tell you that.

It’s not just your smile that’s attractive either. That leather skirt you’re wearing drives her absolutely insane, making her want to grab ahold of you and press you up against the nearest wall...

A blush creeps into her cheeks at the thought.

Billie’s heart skips a beat at the small smile, and once again she’s thrown off.

You seem...unbothered to her presence. Usually you’re happy, or at least visibly excited to see her.

Which is exactly what Billie doesn’t want.

She swallows, adjusting her hat. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

Billie can’t help scanning you over again, her eyes tracing the lines of your body.

Get a hold of yourself, Billie.

You on the other hand, can tell how nervous Billie seemed to be talking to you. From the hat adjustments, the fidgeting of her rings, and the way her eyes would wonder to other parts of you.

The parts she even started talking to you in the first place for.

That’s right.

Billie only really wanted you for one thing. The sex.

A straight face was what you held when you reminded yourself of her not forgotten actions.

There’s a pause in the conversation, and it’s starting to make Billie a little nervous.

You’re not reacting the way she thought you would. Why aren’t you blushing, or staring, or smiling back?

She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something to say. Her eyes flick down to the solo cup in your hands, then back up.

“What, uh, what are you drinking?”

Really, Billie? What are you drinking? Nice one.

“A marg.”

The words leaving your lips dryly and uninterested.

Billie swallows again as she eyes the red cup in your hand. She’s starting to feel like even more of a tool.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and she’s stuck by how composed you seem to be. Like the last few months never even happened.

“Marg?” she asks, repeating you. “Like...margarita?”

You blink at Billie once, a straight face staring at right back at hers.

“What are you doing?” You began, eyebrows furrowed at her poor attempts to make conversation.

“I mean,” You begin to look around the yard and then back at her, “Why are you talking to me?”

Billie blinks at the question, eyes widening. She opens her mouth to answer, but words fail her.

Why was she talking to you?

You’re right. Why is she?

For a few seconds, she’s at a loss. She can’t exactly say “because I miss you” or “because everything reminds me of you”.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“I dunno.”

There’s another brief pause, and Billie’s heart is hammering in her chest as she desperately tries to think of something, anything else to say.

She’s starting to have the feeling that she shouldn’t have even come over, but the pull to you is stronger than her brain right now, and it seems like you’re not going to give her an easy out.

“Look, I...”

Billie pauses again, licking her lips.

“I wanted to talk to you, okay?” She finally says, and her voice comes out a little more gruff than she intended.

Billie’s not used to having to struggle to talk like this. She’s used to having people pay attention to her, listen to her, and do what she says.

But with you it’s different.

You aren’t giving her the usual response, and it’s making her feel even more vulnerable.

A small, sarcastic smile plays on your lips, “And you thought I’d want to as well?”

At this point your margarita left your hand and sat on the bar top, you crossed your arms and looked at Billie with a slight tilt of your head.

Billie’s eyes follow the movement of your margarita being set down, and she can’t really blame you for not wanting to talk to her.

She’d expected you to not want to talk, so why hadn’t she just stayed away?

“I...I just...” Billie’s eyes dart around, her voice getting a little more hushed.

“I just wanted to...I don’t know,” she pauses again, her hand fiddling with the ring on her finger. It’s antsy, anxious, something she hates feeling.

“What?”

Your eyebrows are furrowed and your face has confusion written all over it, “Wanted me to sign another NDA?”

Your voice now low and hushed so only Billie could hear.

Ouch.

Billie winces at your words, even though she more than deserves them.

Her shoulders drop, her eyes going down to the floor for a few seconds. Her stomach clenches, and she swallows.

“No...that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Billie looks up to you, her eyes pleading.

You nod at her slowly and raise your hands in a ‘why’ motion, “So why are we talking?”

You study her body language.

She’s uncomfortable and worried. Clearly.

She’s stuttering over her words, her hands are more clearly messing with the hem of her shirt, her chest is falling and rising with more speed.

Shit.

She looks exactly like you that one day. And now you’re starting to feel like shit.

But you don’t let it show. You shake it off and keep your exterior, a small minuscule change in the way your eyes looked at her.

Billie’s shoulders straighten as she tries to look more confident, but your cool response is really making her crumble inside.

In the last four months, she’s been unable to think of anything except your face, your body, your voice, everything. She’d tortured herself over what she was going to say if she saw you again.

And now here you were in front of her, aloof and impassive.

And it was killing her.

“I...I wanted to talk to you about us.”

You took a steady breath in at her words and looked elsewhere in the party, letting the breath out and looking back over to Billie.

You swallowed and kept eye contact with her for a few seconds, finally opening your mouth.

“There’s no more us Billie.”

Your tone was gentle and quiet. Your face was now replaced with a much softer look and a somewhat saddened expression.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Even though Billie knew that was coming, it still hurts to hear you say it out loud.

She swallows again, trying to control the way she’s feeling.

“I...I know that, but I…I just...”

There’s a pause as she wracks her brain for the right thing to say. No, not the right thing to say. The truth.

“I miss you,” she says, her words barely a whisper.

I miss you.

What the fuck?

She’s bullshitting you Y/N.

You blink slowly at her and her words, letting out a shaky breath. A look of anger, betrayal, and sadness all flashing on your face.

All silently.

It was the exact same look you held when you had your argument.

You looked at your drink on the bar-top and took it in your hand, not sharing eye contact with Billie.

Not saying a single word.

The tension was high.

The music was still loud.

The beat in your chest pounded harder.

It was all too much.

So you walked away. You went straight toward the more secluded part of the party where no one was. It was a balcony that overlooked all of Los Angeles.

The bright city lights never looked more interesting. You were really only trying to get rid of Billie’s words out your mind.

Billie watches as you walk away, the emotions clearly written on your face.

Her heart sinks as you reject her words and leave.

She can’t help it.

She follows, weaving quickly through the crowd and around the corners of the house until she finally gets to that balcony.

She takes a few steps forward, closing the space between the two of you. When she can safely assume she’s not going to startle you, Billie speaks up.

“Please don’t run away.”

You look up at the sky with closed eyes and mentally ask the world to give you mercy for this conversation.

Argument really.

You turn around and look Billie straight in the eye.

“I mean what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice confused, angry, and sad. Your face contorted into some sort of mixed emotions.

Billie’s heart flutters in her chest at the sound of your voice again.

This was the reaction she wanted.

No, the reaction she wanted was you kissing her and pulling her flush against your warm body.

But right now this anger was the only thing she could get. Anything was better than indifference.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Billie’s voice is laced with disbelief, coming to stand next to you on the edge of the balcony.

“Yes!”

Helplessness laced in your tone.

“What kind of fucked up shit are you up to? ‘I miss you.’ I mean what the fuck!”

Billie’s chest is rising and falling with her heavy breathing as she stands there, trying to find the words to say that will help you understand, that will get you to listen.

“I’m not up to anything!” She insists. “I just...”

Billie reaches out and lays her hand on your arm, trying to ignore the way her skin tingles when she touches you.

“Please, let me explain.”

You retract your arm from Billie’s grip almost immediately, the contrast of the feeling of her cold rings and warm hand leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“Don’t touch me.”

And at this point your eyes are starting to burn, your teeth are biting at your lips to stop yourself from saying anything wrong.

Her heart drops in her chest as you shove away from her. Billie can tell that you’re getting overwhelmed, and it’s breaking her heart to watch it happen.

She pulls her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says quietly, her voice as gentle as she can make it.

Billie’s eyes dart around your face, a mixture of guilt, hurt, and panic written all over her features. Seeing you this upset does something to her— it’s like she can’t breathe.

“Please just listen to me,” she says again, her voice coming out more desperate. Whiny. “Please...”

She takes a step forward, trying to get closer to you again, aching to soothe the agitation in your body.

Billie can’t handle you being this upset. The air is thick, and her chest feels heavy with the need to touch you, to make you feel better.

But she knows if she tries, you’re going to push her away again.

You don’t say anything. You’re silent.

You know if you speak up you’ll regret saying the things that’ll come out your mouth. So you don’t speak.

You let Billie say what she wants to say.

Billie lets out a shaky sigh, and a few hairs that had fallen loose from her cap blow in the cool night air.

“I...”

She bites her bottom lip, trying to keep her hands still and not reach out for you again.

“When I said I missed you...I meant it.”

There’s a hint of frustration in her words.

“Please, look at me.”

So you do.

You look up from the railing of the balcony and to Billie. Your eyes are red and teary-eyed. You’re tired. And it’s written all over your face.

Billie’s eyes widen slightly at the tears now gathering in your eyes.

No.

She didn’t mean to make you cry. That wasn’t what she was trying to accomplish.

Billie’s heart clenches, aching to pull you into her arms and take away any and all pain you’d felt in the four months apart.

“Hey...”

She steps closer to you, gently placing a hand on your cheek to brush away the few tears that have fallen.

And at this point, you’ve completely given up on trying to get away from Billie.

You lean into her touch and let out a sob.

Your heart breaks and your body practically aches with pain and heat. You missed her and you were tired of pretending you didn’t.

“Billie.”

Your voice came out as a whiny cry, like a little kid who mourned the loss of their first pet.

The sound that comes out of you twists at something deep inside Billie’s chest, a wave of helplessness washing over her.

She doesn’t want to make you cry. She wants you to be happy. She wants to make sure you’re as happy as possible, to see you smile that gorgeous smile again—not cry like this.

“Shhh...don’t cry,” Billie murmurs, her other hand coming up to cradle your face.

She’s impossibly gentle, as if you’re something precious to be handled with care.

And you are. That’s exactly what Billie thinks of you. She knows you need to be handled with care.

You are precious...

Billie brushes her thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. Her brain is running a mile a minute, desperately trying to think of something, anything that will help you feel better.

She hates you hurting like this. Hating the fact that she is the reason you’re hurting.

“Please...just stop crying...you’re breaking my heart...”

“I still—“

Your voice is cracking and whiny. Your burning eyes look up into Billie’s blue ones.

“I still love you.”

Billie’s heart stops in her chest.

She stares down at you, shocked to hear those three words come out of your mouth.

I still love you.

Billie’s eyes rake across your face, looking for any sign of a lie in your words, but all she sees is an exhausted pain and vulnerability.

“Baby...” she whispers.

Billie’s hands still haven’t left their place on your cheeks, her fingers shaking against you as she processes what you just said.

“You...you still love me?”

Her words are quiet and hesitant, like she’s half afraid of what the answer will be.

Billie’s eyes flicker around your face, noting all of the emotions written on your features—a mirror to the ones she’s feeling right now.

Love. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Despair. Excitement. Exhaustion. Desire.

It’s all there, plain as day on both of your faces.

Just then your hearing was hushed. Your body grew slack and your heartbeat slowed.

You surged forward without any thought whatsoever.

Your lips ended up on Billie’s.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

This is all you’ve ever wanted these past four months no matter how much you denied it. You missed her. You missed her so much. And all you wanted right now was for her to hold you.

Billie is completely caught off guard when you kiss her, letting out a soft gasp against your mouth before finally giving in.

Finally. Finally.

She’s needed this. No, she’s craved this. These past few months have been long, and lonely, and exhausting. But now you’re here and finally, finally she can touch you again.

One of her hands slide from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you close as she kisses you back.

Billie’s lips move against yours frantically, pressing hard and desperate. She’s trying to pour everything she’s feeling into this kiss. And she wants to hear, to feel you do the same.

Her chest is burning, her heart is racing, and when she finally pulls back for a breath, her breathing is ragged. Billie looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, the blue of her irises almost lost in the darkness of her wide pupils.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed out, lip quivering with adrenaline, “I didn’t mean all the fucked up shit I said.”

You gripped at Billie’s shoulder and forearm so tight that there’d probably bruises after you let go.

But Billie doesn’t care if you leave bruises.

In fact, she’d relish in it.

A physical reminder of what this night and this moment meant to both of you.

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving your face. “I don’t care, baby. It’s alright. I forgive you. I forgive you. Just...please...let me...”

Billie pauses, biting her lip. She knows what she wants. But she can’t come out and say it. Not right now. Her throat feels like it’s closing up.

She swallows roughly and tries again. “Please...let me make it up to you...and...and prove to you I still...that I still...”

Billie’s words get caught in her throat, and her fingers tighten even more around your body, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“Please just...” her voice drops to a low whisper, “please just...let me...love you...love me back...”

There’s a pleading in her voice, a desperate undertone to her words.

Your grip becomes tighter at her words as you look in her eyes. Your heart was practically beating in your ears and throughout your whole body.

Your head felt dizzy and your breathing picked up again.

The whiny tone Billie voice picked up made your skin tingle. You’ve wanted this for so long.

The yearning.

The begging.

And now you finally had it.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

When you say yes, it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. And a deep-seated, burning feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Then you’ll have it.”

It’s the only response that comes out of Billie’s mouth before she’s kissing you again, her hands pulling you even closer to her body.

Her arms wrap around you and she’s practically clinging to you, like this is the last time she’s ever going to get to touch you.

Billie didn’t take you back to the party after the balcony.

Instead, she took you back to her home.

And you spent the rest of the night wrapped in her sheets and in her arms, whispers of love and forgiveness exchanged between you both as the hours passed.

And in the morning, when you woke up, Billie was already awake holding you in her arms, watching you sleep as she stroked your hair with the gentlest of touches.

And after those long 4 months. She no longer hated the fact that she couldn’t love you the way you were meant to be loved.

‧₊˚✩彡

fer speaks!!!

yay happy ending! i beg of y’all to throw some requests at me 🙏🏼