#my photo reel is still filled with these

[yeah-klave]

Sorry, but you used the wrong Robert Sheehan photo.

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[jjunieworld]

stupid cupid! ` . ᡣ𐭩 ་ જ⁀➴

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader

genre: fluff-y mainly, cupid!hueningkai, sort of psyche!reader, blonde!kai, strangers to lovers, love at first sight(?), yearning to the max, kinda mythology au? (references to gods & myths), both y/n and kai’s pov are shown

synopsis: hueningkai, better known as cupid, is known for his art in helping people fall in love. shooting his arrows here and there, getting those who are meant to be together. what happens when after he shoots one of his love arrows at you, the other one somehow ends up hitting him?

word count: 6.5k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: last and final part of my v-day event! happy valentine’s day!! kai’s look and outfit is heavily based on his look and outfit from the freeze concept photos (above)! lowkey this made me wanna get into more mythology aus, maybe even delve more deeper into cupid!kai and psyche!reader… who knows! i hope you enjoy! ♡

valentine’s day was always a good day for hueningkai. it was when he really got to shine at what he did. hueningkai liked to people watch, liked to see just what makes two mortals fall for each other. yes, he was well versed in all things love—thanks to his mother, but he’s never actually experienced it before.

inhaling deeply, hueningkai steadied his bow and aimed towards the boy a couple yards from him, his large ivory wings flaring out behind him. he shifted slightly from high up on his perch as he aimed for the boy’s heart, light pink arrowhead beaming brightly in the early morning sunlight. time slowed as hueningkai exhaled, no sound, no movement, nothing. all at once everything flew back into motion as the bowstring flung past his limp fingertips, the silver arrow shooting through the boy’s heart and unrequited love consuming him.

hueningkai pulled out another shaft from his quiver at his hip, this one with a blunt tip made of lead. he aimed it at the girl beside the boy and fired it, aversion filling her body as the two of them looked at each other. hueningkai lowered his bow as he watched the mortals, intrigued. his wings tucked themselves into his back behind him.

as the boy professed his love for the girl, as they always do, the girl’s face fell more and more. a polite smile formed on her mouth and she pushed the extended card back towards the boy. hueningkai watched her lips, her mouth forming: “i’m sorry, but i just don’t feel that way about you.” he then watched as the boy’s shoulders dropped and he turned to walk away. hueningkai hummed. how curious, he thought.

flying over the crowd of people, the eye that wasn’t covered by his pink heart-shaped eyepatch was focused on the sky ahead of him. hueningkai lifted the eyepatch, closing his eyes briefly as he landed to adjust to the sudden difference in vision. when he opened them again, wings coming to lay flat at his back, they landed on you a few feet in front.

pulling out a golden arrow of uncontrollable desire, hueningkai aims it straight at your heart. hueningkai felt his own beating heart in his chest as he steadied his slightly shaking fingers, staring at the slightly transparent pink halo that’s around your body. you were quite beautiful, and that was saying something coming from him. releasing the arrow and watching it pierce through you, he looks around for your matching halo but sees no one. hueningkai furrows his eyebrows. how odd, this has never happened before, he thinks.

hueningkai moved to put his bow over his shoulders when the heart-shaped tip of one of his golden arrows grazed his skin, scratching him. thinking nothing of it, he moved to continue on his way. he is very busy today, and he still had to shoot his arrows into a plethora of other people. surely his own arrows of desire couldn’t affect the god of desire?

he gave one last look at you as he pulled his eyepatch back down. suddenly, hueningkai felt as if his heart was physically trying to leap out his chest and he reeled backwards from the feeling, wings enveloping him as he squeezed his eyes shut.

what the hell? he thought. what is this feeling? shaking his head slightly, he looked back up at you just as you looked up from the paper you were scribbling away on. your eyes widened and eyebrows had knitted together as you seemingly saw him.

that was impossible, hueningkai should’ve been invisible to the human eye! taking flight, hueningkai flew high into the clouds at a rapid speed. today was already off to a rough start and the day had barely begun.

you felt like there were a heavy set of eyes on you, burning a hole right through your body and to your very soul. looking up from your sketchbook, you locked eyes with what you could only describe as an angel. you couldn’t see much of him, his body and face mainly being covered with wings as white as snow, but you saw his dark eyes and his fair hair.

his eyes pierced through you with such intensity, it caused your heart to pick up in speed and your breath to hitch. both of his eyes were brown, but the right one had a ring of dark pink bleeding into the iris. they were shadowed with a deep pink and you saw what looked like an eyepatch above the strange looking right eye. light blonde hair fell messily over his forehead. who was he, this man—this creature? what was he? was he even a he?

furrowing your brows, you didn’t have the chance to answer before the winged creature took to the sky. you looked around you as confusion seeped into you. nobody else seemed to have seen a thing. not even the fallen winter leaves seemed ruffled by the wind of it’s wings.

at first, you thought maybe a prank was being played on you, but the more and more you looked around and saw nobody reacting to what you just saw, you began to think against it. maybe it was your mind playing a trick on you from your lack of sleep? running a hand over your face and sighing lightly, you gathered your sketchbook and your supplies and threw on your black jacket as you headed home.

that night, the creature wouldn’t leave your mind. his tormented eyes and the light against his hair haunted you all the way to your dreams.

in your dream, you were in a vast, intricately decorated palace. golden columns, carved ceilings of ivory, and walls full of wild animals beckoned you forward on the jeweled mosaic floor. in the distance you can hear piano playing softly, so you decide to follow it through the empty corridors.

you walked into a large open room with a single, long table in the center. there was only one chair, at the head closest to the entrance. half of the room was lit up by candlelight, the other half was basked in darkness. the strangeness of it all halted you, made your pulse quicken. it didn’t help that you could feel someone from the shadows watching you intently from the other side of the table, could barely see the outline of their silhouette.

“take a seat, my darling,” a honeyed voice said. something didn’t seem right about it. it sounded almost twisted at the corners; unreal and slightly disembodied. slowly, you made your way to the only seat available, confused eyes and knitted brows looking around the room. at the blink of your eyes, there was suddenly a feast in front of you. the plate just in front of you was almost filled to the brim with various types of dishes and there was a goblet with a candelabra next to it filled with who knows what. “don’t be shy, fill your needs. and then fill them more,” the voice spoke softly.

you leaned away from the table slightly, not a lot to cause suspicion or alert whoever was across from you. you didn’t think that mattered, though, because the gaze on you was already piercing. somehow, you felt like you knew it was that creature you saw earlier who was now hiding in the darkness.

a softly humming voice joined in with the piano and it sent a shiver down your spine from how beautiful it sounded. “are you a man, or an angel?” you asked the darkness, scared of the answer. a slight chuckle followed, “i am neither.” with narrowed eyes, you hope you were staring the creature directly into its eyes.

“so what are you then?” you asked, courage filling you. silence hangs in the air thickly and you feel the courage you built up slipping. after what felt like forever, the voice replied, “i am the son of love, i am desire.” you could practically hear the smile on the creature’s lips. before you could respond, ask the creature what he means, you felt yourself begin to fade. the edges of your vision was getting hazy and the details of the room were becoming blurred.

almost feverishly, you wake up in your room to sketches absolutely everywhere. your room looked like someone flung papers all over the place. in front of you was a canvas, the portrait of the creature the morning you saw him on it. looking down, your hands were absolutely covered in various shades of paint. there was paint on your arms and looking in the mirror hanging on your wall, there was paint all over your face and in your hair as well.

you turned to see the scattered sketches. his eyes were looking back at you everywhere; the slight wave of his light hair. over and over and over again. what is happening? you wondered. what is this… thing? and why couldn’t you stop thinking about him, this son of love, this desire?

pulling your laptop open, you began to search the large ocean of information on the internet. you just had to know.

hueningkai shook with the need to soar through the sky. to find out why he is so drawn to this mortal human and why. and how. he could barely carry out his tasks of bringing people together when all he was thinking about was being with you. it was driving him absolutely insane. driving him completely insane not following the call of heart to you.

how stupid he was to visit your dream, it just made everything worse. hueningkai didn’t understand, his arrows shouldn’t affect him. right? he thought back to the moment he drew his arrow at you, the moment he aimed straight for your heart.

the way his own heart picked up in beat, the slight shake of his fingers. this was so unlike anything he’s ever known, ever witnessed. hueningkai needed to see you again.

ripping his eyepatch off, hueningkai scanned his surroundings, letting his bow and arrow go limp in his other hand. that’s when something caught his eye. there was a slightly transparent pink halo around him. hueningkai’s eyes widened in shock. it was the same halo that was around you when he shot his arrow.

his eye gave him the ability to see which people connected and which ones didn’t, see the red string between them. hueningkai didn’t need to use that power of his often, only on days—such as valentine’s day—when things are particularly hectic. holding up the hand with his eyepatch dangling from it, hueningkai stared down at his open hand; stared down at the string of red tied at his pinky. he stared at how the string—more like a ribbon��spread ahead of him forwards.

could the god of desire—the god of attraction, god of affection… fall in love? be in love? even experience love? at least in the way that these humans he loved to watch do? was it possible? hueningkai was afraid to let himself hope, let himself wonder, but he just had to know.

following the red ribbon, hueningkai made his way towards you. this time, he watched from the shadows casted by the cloudy morning sky as you scurried around the inside of a library, tugging the ribbon in every direction you went. hueningkai watched on curiously, he wanted so badly to get closer to you, but he knew better than to show his face.

he knew better than to see as your eyes fog over as you saw what everyone else saw, the thing you most desired. the person who you wanted him to be, to look as. he knew better than to break his own heart. you would never see hueningkai as himself.

but he just had to get to know you. even without the red string of fate tying you together, without hueningkai’s arrows, you still piqued his interest. your beauty was unmatched, and the more he watched you through the library window, the more he was curious about your personality as well. hueningkai decided that he would meet you again in person, not face to face, but as close as he can get.

hueningkai decided that instead of beating around the bush like he did in your dream, that he would answer your questions, and even ask some of his own. maybe the two of you could get to know each other? i mean, it’s only a matter of time.

you couldn’t focus on the book you were reading. the quiet, relatively empty, library was too loud—too bustling. you couldn’t focus with all the thoughts of him running rampid in your mind. it also didn’t help that you felt eyes on you again—his eyes. you knew that somewhere, he was watching you.

if you were honest, you couldn’t say you hated the attention. at least, not from him. it was strange, you weren’t one to want to be the center of attention, but you found yourself wanting to be the center of his attention. his eyes on you almost felt… comforting? refreshing? like a warm blanket on a cold day; a sip of ice cold water on a hot one.

it also helped that you now knew his true name; cupid. or that’s what your books and the internet say anyways. to you, he didn’t look like some baby with wings waving a bow and arrow around. you didn’t even see a bow and arrow, not that you saw much of him at all because of his large wings. but knowing his true name had to mean something, right?

you wanted to meet him again, see him again. it was as if you craved it. as if you’ve been waiting all your life for it and now that you’ve had a taste you’re ravished. but you didn’t know how to see him again, or if you even could for that matter. you assumed that your next meeting—and probably future ones, as well—were entirely up to him.

looking up at your spot from the wide desk, you stared out into the open library window. stared into the shadows where you saw absolutely nothing, but felt his presence. you lifted your head up high and dared to do what one should never do.

“cupid,” you mouthed, eyes staring intently into the dark. you could practically feel his smile. it was like a tingle up your spine. you could feel your heart pick up pace as his gaze burned into yours, even without seeing him.

putting your head in your hand as you leaned on the desk, you tried to act unbothered but it felt like every cell in your body has electrified, every individual hair standing up on end. then, the heaviness of his gaze had suddenly disappeared and you knew that he was gone.

slumping onto the desk, you inhaled deeply. could it be true? you were being haunted by the cupid, god of desire? you? this all felt unreal, and if you hadn’t had as many encounters with cupid himself that you’ve had thus far, you would’ve written it off. there’s a part of you that still wants to.

every interaction felt loaded. his honeyed voice still rang in the back of your mind, even with how distorted he no doubt made it. every interaction made you want more of him—need more of him. you had to see him. jesus, it’s only been a day and you felt like you were already starting to fall for him. him—cupid. it all seemed so ironic, like a big joke.

you put the books away and made your way home. the ball was in his court now. or should you say: the arrow was in his quiver? it was up to him how this whole relationship forming between the two of you continued, but you hoped you saw him again.

when night fell, you cuddled up in your bed early. perhaps he would come to you in another dream? you squeezed your eyes shut in the pitch black darkness of your room. it seemed like you laid there like that for forever, beckoning sleep, when you suddenly heard the light flap of wings against the wind. you had forgotten that you left your window open to let the cool night air in.

your eyes shot open and immediately looked towards the window. there was nothing there. how could that be? you distinctly heard wings, and you knew that no bird's wings around the area you lived in carried that kind of sound.

“you cannot look upon me…” you heard his voice trail off, barely above a whisper. you had to strain your ears slightly to hear it, but it was the same voice from your dream. only this time, less off-putting and disembodied. “it would not be good for the both of us,” he—cupid, continued.

you sat up in your bed, squinting your eyes for any glimpse of him you could manage even if he said that it wasn’t good. “why not? are you hideous?” you asked him, genuinely curious. cupid’s laugh carried through the window and to your ears, “that’s not possible. i thought you knew who i was? you dared to utter my name, didn’t you?”

“you are cupid, yes?” you asked him. cupid hummed softly in response. “since that is your true name, why must i not see your face? will i be blinded by your beauty?” you felt bothersome asking him so many questions, but what else were you supposed to talk about? how was your day? how many arrows did you shoot through the hearts of mere mortals and immortals alike?

there was a clear smile in his voice as cupid responded, “something of the sort… but cupid is not my true name.” your brows furrowed and you swung your legs over the side of the bed, blanket discarded to the side. in response, your body shivered slightly from the sudden exposure to the cold air. “then… then what is it?” you inquired. everywhere you looked, it said that cupid was his name. if not cupid, then what?

it was silent for a few moments and for a second you thought that he had left when he suddenly spoke, “knowing my true name isn’t safe, not yet. but, you may call me cupid. do i get to know yours?” a smile formed on your lips and you felt your face heat up against the cool air. he was just asking your name, what were you so flustered? “y/n…” you replied. “my name is y/n.”

“y/n…” cupid said, trying your name on his lips. you felt the tingle of his smile. you almost melted from your name coming from his mouth. “what a beautiful name,” he added. muttering out a thanks, you hid your burning cheeks with your hands. thankfully, the room was dark enough that he couldn’t see it, at least you hoped. you didn’t really know how gods worked, didn’t even know they were a real thing until cupid appeared in front of you.

cupid would come every night since then, just behind the barrier of your open window and pressed against the shadow of the night. the two of you would get to know each other—well, he would mainly get to know you and you would get some additional information or corrections on the things you could find about him on the internet and at the library.

“did you really shoot a lead arrow at that nymph?” you asked him. you had dared to sit just below the window, your back pressed to the wall against it as you stared into the darkness of your room. his voice came from overhead, and you could tell he was leaning above you, watching your figure. “it wasn’t one of my proudest moments…” cupid trailed, his voice closer than ever before, although there was some playfulness in his tone. “i felt really bad for what happened to her after. but it was so long ago, i haven’t even thought about it in a while…”

how badly you wanted to look up at him, climb through the window onto the fire escape and look into his eyes, but this was your compromise. cupid was watching you intently, like he always did, and you knew that once you saw his face it was over. your eyebrows raised, “and just how old are you?”

you knew that was a somewhat stupid question. he was a god, he was probably here when the earth had dinosaurs or whatever. in any case, he was definitely older than you were. “old enough,” he chuckled and you swear he held your heart in his hands right then and there. you couldn’t deny the feelings you had for him anymore.

a breeze flew through the open window and your body reacted with a shiver. “if you’re cold, go lay under the blankets. you don’t have to sit under the window,” cupid spoke, voice deep with worry. you shook your head and wrapped your arms a little tighter around yourself, “i want to talk to you… and i can barely hear you all the way over there. i’ll be fine!”

cupid let out a sigh, “i can come inside, if you want…” you tried not to let the smile creep over your face at the thinly veiled shyness in his voice. you nodded, “okay!”

“close your eyes and take a couple steps forward,” cupid spoke and you obeyed his demands. behind you, you could hear the screen part of your window opening and closing. you could hear his light footsteps come towards you. goosebumps trailed up your skin and you gripped the fabric of your pajama pants to keep your hands from shaking in anticipation.

you felt as warm hands found their way to your shoulders and again you resisted the urge to turn around and stare. another shiver ran up your spine, only this time it wasn’t from the chill. “still cold?” cupid asked. his hands trailed down your bare arms and to your waist, leaving more goosebumps. you felt as your body warmed at his touch.

this was the first time you had ever been so close. the first time that you both have even touched, and you weren’t gonna ruin it. squeezing your eyes firmly shut, you barely managed to nod, even though the coldness was now completely gone from your body. you still wanted him near you.

humming, cupid snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. his ivory wings wrapped around the two of you, enveloping you in its warmth. you sighed lightly as you sank into his touch. the two of you stayed like that for a while, his arms and wings around you and his head resting on top of yours.

“it’s hueningkai,” cupid had whispered after a long bout of silence. you had begun to fall asleep in his arms but his voice woke you right back up. “hm?” you hummed, confused. “my true name,” he spoke. “it’s hueningkai, but you can call me kai.” you smiled widely, so happy you were about to burst at the seams. “okay, kai,” you whispered back.

kai moved his face down so you were almost cheek to cheek. you felt him smile. “sleep, my dear.” melting at his words, you pouted slightly at how he moved his wings from around the two of you. you dared to crack open your eyes and saw the first beams of sunlight sneak into your room and the wisps of blonde hair in your peripheral.

“but… i’m not tir—“ you were cut off by a yawn that you couldn’t fight even if you tried and you mentally kicked yourself. kai’s chuckle was in your ear and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, immediately setting the skin underneath on fire. “i’ll see you tonight,” is all kai said before guiding you gently to your bed. you had gotten into it, facing away from him the entire time with your eyes once again shut, and curled up under the covers.

kai pressed another kiss to your temple and you heard his retreating footsteps towards the window. “sleep well,” he said before you heard the opening and closing of the screen of your window. then, somehow, you heard the closing and locking of the glass part of your window. you didn’t even bother questioning it, most likely part of whatever powers he had, as you drifted off to sleep.

that was the only problem with seeing cupid—hueningkai. it was only at night where he was sure that you couldn’t see his face. you even took extra measures to ensure that, facing away from him in the darkness and even closing your eyes at some points, not wanting his visits to come to an end. he always left before sunrise could peek its way over the horizon, and always came back just as the last house fell into shadow.

the next night, the world was darker thanks to the new moon. kai was back inside the four walls of your room, this time near the window of your room as you laid on the edge of your bed wrapped in your blanket. he had allowed you to look in his direction freely, not that you could see even his silhouette anyways. your bedroom felt like the void and it made you nervous that he would slip away.

“can you come closer?” you asked sheepishly, voice quiet against the night. “there’s so much distance between us and the heavy darkness is making me feel disconnected.” you heard kai’s light laugh trail closer and closer to you, “is that so?”

once he was just mere inches from where you laid on your bed, kai asked, “how close do you want me?” your cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment. there wasn’t anything flirty about the way he said that sentence, he seemed genuinely curious, but the fact that he was willing to be this close to you showed progress. you decided to be bold and scooted over in your bed. “can you get in?” you asked shyly, regret immediately pouring into you.

what if he said no? or worse, what if he left? what if he—

kai slid into the bed next to you, wings tucked tightly flat against his back. you felt him look over to you in the dark. “close enough?” he asked. there was a hint of a smirk in his voice. he leaned in towards you, until your noses were centimeters from each other. “or do you want me to get closer?” kai asked lowly.

you swallowed hard and hoped he didn’t hear. slowly, you moved closer to him and laid against his chest. you then tried not to smile at the quickening of his heart. kai moved to put the blankets over the two of you and then wrapped his arms around you. you heard soft humming in your ears and you didn’t know whether it was kai who was humming or if he was making you hear humming like he made the music play in your dream.

fighting against sleep, you moved to look up at him. although you couldn’t see him, you could feel his stare back on you. you raised your hand up to his face and let the pad of your thumb trail across his cheek. kai jolted ever so slightly at first, but let you continue.

in the darkness, you tried your best to map out his features. his cheeks, the curve of his nose, and plumpness of his lips. kai’s eyes closed as you ran your thumb lightly over his eye and felt his eyelashes.

the two of you said nothing, and slowly you dozed off with your hand cupping his cheek. the lace of his collar tickled your chin as you curled into him closer. in the morning, hueningkai was gone once again.

as hueningkai aimed the pink arrowhead at his target’s heart, his mind was completely on you. how close the two of you were last night to the point where you were curled up against him, breathing softly as your hand rested against his face. his heart had been drumming to the beat of a thousand drums and he was sure that you heard it.

with his entire being, hueningkai wanted to see you in a scenario that wasn’t the two of you in the pitch black. although he could see in the dark way better than mortals could, he wanted to see your face in the sunlight. in the candlelight—in some type of light. hueningkai wanted to watch as your features brightened even more with the introduction of light. he wanted to see your smile in all of its glory.

but he was afraid. afraid that you would see him as something he’s not. that you would start praising features he didn’t have. hueningkai was absolutely terrified that when you described what you liked about him, you would start describing someone else. but the need you see you in a different setting—the desire, knocked the wind out of him and consumed his thoughts. so as he let his arrow pierce through another heart, he made the decision of a lifetime.

hueningkai was going to show you his face.

as the last ray of sunlight fell below the horizon, he flew to your apartment building. just as the night devoured the daylight, hueningkai landed gently onto your fire escape. he opened your unlocked window and stepped lightly into the abyss of your bedroom. he watched as you turned to where you would assume his figure to be, and you surprisingly made eye contact with him. “hi, hueningkai!” you beamed with a warm smile that lit up your features.

“y/n, my love,” hueningkai had replied, his own smile taking over his face. he felt all his stress and worry of the day fall off of him just at the sound of your voice, his name coming from your lips. hueningkai extended a hand out towards you even though he knew you could see it. “i have something important to show you, will you follow me?”

you didn’t think twice as you got up from your bed and made your way towards him by the window. somehow, you found his hand in the dark and intertwined the two of them together. hueningkai helped you out of your window, making sure to close and lock it with a wave of his hand, and pressed you close to his chest. in turn, you wrapped your hands around his waist, gripping onto the back of his white lace top.

once he made sure you were secure and you wouldn’t come to any harm, hueningkai took off with you in his arms and into the night.

landing in the grand hall of his palace, hueningkai made sure that you were completely steady on your feet before letting you go. you had cracked your eyes open, no doubt noticing the light coming through your eyelids, and kept your eyes downcast as you turned away. you then looked up at the intricacies of hueningkai’s palace.

“it’s even more beautiful in person,” you mumbled. “so are you, my love,” hueningkai said, smiling at the back of your head. you scoffed playfully and shook your head, “you’re so lucky i can’t turn to look at you right now…”

hueningkai took your hand and guided you up the grand staircase to his wing of the palace when his bedroom resided. he wanted this moment to be special, just between the two of you, and didn’t want to be disrupted by any of the palace staff. you followed behind him, gasping and remarking on all of the detailed carvings and of the silver and gold accents as the two of you moved from hallway to hallway.

once the both of you had reached hueningkai’s bedchambers, he began to hesitate. what if everything went wrong? crashed and burned and crumbled? hueningkai couldn’t bear the thought of you desiring another. not when his heart was so full of you and only you that it was about to explode. not when all he wanted was to be by your side for forever. not when he loved you so much and so deeply—something he thought he was never capable of—that to lose you now would break him completely. strip him of his immortality and throw him to the darkness down below.

hueningkai couldn’t do it, he couldn’t show you his face like he had planned. at least, not tonight. he would try again tomorrow—but tonight, tonight he was all yours and you were all his.

“what did you want to show me?” you had asked him softly, keeping your back to him as you looked around. taking your hand, hueningkai led you to the bed and curled you up against him. with another wave of his hand, the candles snuffed out. “the change of scenery. thought that you might like being somewhere else for a change.” hueningkai pushed out, feeling guilty.

you smiled as you nodded. “can you stay with me, kai? until at least the early morning?” you then asked quietly, barely above a whisper. your hands gripped the fabric at the sides of hueningkai’s waist in a silent plea. how could he say no to you? “i will,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your eyelids. “when you wake, i’ll still be here. i promise.” it was the least hueningkai could do. and tomorrow, i will show you my face, he thought.

the two of you fell asleep that way, your chests rising and falling together in sync. hueningkai was determined to keep both of his promises. he just hoped that when you saw him, you didn’t see another. that he wasn’t see-through.

in the middle of the night, hueningkai felt you shift but thought nothing of it. he thought that you had just moved to a more comfortable position. his suspicion rose, and he started to wake up from his sleep a little, when he felt warmth near his skin. suddenly, something hot dripped onto his cheek. opening his eyes, he reared backwards, eyes wild as his back hit the wall.

there you stood, a lit candle dripping wax in your hand and a severely guilty look on your face. hueningkai’s first instinct was to flee, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. he launched towards the door when you yelled out, “wait!”

your voice barely registered in his mind. that was until you cried out, “hueningkai, please!” hueningkai stopped dead in his tracks, completely frozen by your beautiful voice. slowly, he turned to you in the light of your lit candle, his wing covering his face.

“i’m so sorry! i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to, curiosity took over me and the next thing i knew, i was hovering over your face with this candle. it wasn’t my intention to disrespect you or to put the both of us in danger. truly, i don’t know what’s gotten into my mind—“ you rambled as hueningkai turned completely, tucking his wings behind him. you cut yourself off mid-sentence, breath hitching.

hueningkai closed his eyes—or the eye that wasn’t covered—as he prepared himself for the heartbreak he was about to face. for you to see someone else. he jolted as he felt your hand cup his cheek. agonizingly slow, he opened his eyes to make contact with yours, his brows deeply knitted together.

you reached up and pulled away the eyepatch, letting it drop to the floor. not once did you take your eyes of his. hueningkai’s confusion deepened when he didn’t see the glassy look in your eyes. instead, the were clear as they moved from his eyes to the rest of his face.

fluttering his eyes closed at your touch, hueningkai felt as your fingertips glided over his eyelids. he opened them when they traveled down to his nose and cheeks and then rested for a moment at his lips. hueningkai could feel the pink spreading across his cheeks.

your eyes were wide, soaking up as much of him as you could take. your fingers then reached up to run through his fair hair. “i almost got your eyes right. they’re a lot warmer in person…” you had trailed, fingers moving back down to his lips. “and your lips are way more pink that i was expecting. around your eyes too, even though they’re the one feature i did see.”

hueningkai let out a soft sigh as he practically melted into your touch. nobody has ever seen him for him before, nobody. nobody except for you. you’re the only one who didn’t look at him with foggy eyes of glass, spewing random things about how he looked that weren’t true.

everything was too much for him at that moment and hueningkai pulled you close to him and into a feverish kiss that he wanted to do for so long. all he needed was your lips on his and the world made sense again. hueningkai now understood how and why mortals have gone mad by love. all because of you. all because of how much he loves you.

your hands grabbed hueningkai’s face as he deepened the kiss. both of your mouths worked together in perfect harmony, and when you pulled away, lips plumped and breaths heavy from lack of air, your lips were back on each other’s before you could even get a full breath in.

pulling away as you inhaled deeply, you and kai looked into each other’s eyes like the two of you were the only things that mattered at this moment. “i love you, hueningkai,” you had spoken, voice confident. hueningkai smiled brightly at you like you hung the stars and the moon, “i love you, y/n.” he then pressed another kiss to your lips, this one softer and less filled with need but still full of desire nonetheless.

“it was hard trying to draw you based on only your eyes and hair and what i got from touching your face, but it seems i was pretty accurate!” you exclaimed, smiling sheepishly. hueningkai hummed, “you’ll have to show me in the morning!”

hueningkai wrapped his arms around you tightly and you clung to him just as tight back. he had no plans of ever letting you go.

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Eddie x Pencils - 🎃 Halloween 🎃one shot

2.7k words

Summary: pretty much what it says on the tin. Halloween one shot with our dearest Eddie x Pencils. Enjoy. Pure fluff. A tiny suggestion of smut at the end. Inspired by this lovely photo set & this prompt post that got me off my ass to write again.

Also another shoutout to the gorgeous @tvserie-s-world who made this amazing Eddie x Pencils edit that I’m still gooey over. 🖤

“So, what brings you to my dark and creepy neck of the woods?”Came a cocky taunt as soon as the trailer door swung open after your knock.

It’s usual rusty-screeching melody preceding its occupants flirty remark. The sound of the Smiths comes slithering out the creaking door behind him. The tape you bought that got lost in the avalanche of both your cassettes that slide and slip, congregate on his passenger seat.

He will not smile for anyone. And pretty girls make graves.

The lanky shadow of your boyfriend cuts across the warm yellow glow of the lights that slant out the doorway behind him. His costume makes you grin. Sheer moronic love.

You stood halfway up the steps. Candles flickering and throwing dozy pools orange in Jack-o-lanterns across the toes of your boots. They’re all wonky and have imperfect slanted mouths and jagged eyes. Loping together on the uneven porch steps. Fat orange gourds all drunk with gravity.

The very same pumpkins you’d helped him carve a week ago, after a misty morning weekend trip to Merill’s pumpkin farm. Eddie had the rather dastardly and determined habit of choosing pumpkins bigger and heavier than his actual van tires. You ended up with so many.

Your kitchen has smelt like squelchy pumpkin innards all week. You’re still finding seeds cropping up under the toaster or in the corner of the cabinets. As per Eddie’s way with most things, It wasn’t exactly a neat process.

You can’t help but laugh at his greeting too.

“I distinctly remember making plans to invade the spooky neck of your woods tonight, my little death trap.” You smile as you edge your way up the sloping steps. Holding a huge pumpkin shaped bucket of candy in your arms. The contents rustle as you move.

Everyone’s touting pumpkin buckets tonight. Driving in and even on the street back home, you saw a load of elementary kids walking around the park in their costumes. Ghosts in bedsheets. Aliens. Bats. One very ambitious papier maché pumpkin. Superhero’s. Clowns. Home made astronauts clad in crinkly tin foil and bulbous helmets. All wandering with an adult in tow and buckets clutched in their hands, ready to be filled.

You opted for a simple witch costume. Stripy tights and your dark thrifted docs. A black dress with a little cape tied around your shoulders and a witches hat. You applied dark purple-plum lipstick and dark smudgey grey eyeshadow, and liner. Your eyelids glitter like purple constellations. He finds stars to gaze at so often in those pretty eyes.

Eddie had gone for an Alice Cooper inspired look. Top hat. The dripping dark eye makeup that you’re amazed he managed all on his own. Hair it’s usual long rocker mess. Gothic black and lots of it. A huge goth belt with studs and buckles. You spy a cane grasped by his side too. A fake toy snake looped around his neck. Just like the man himself. He really does go all out.

The fringe benefit being he looks hot as hell to your eyes.

“You’ve got me under your spell, O’ bewitching one. How could I possibly resist.” He opened his arms out to you as you came to the last step.

“Bet you say that to every witch who shows up at your door on hallows eve.” You smile. Unashamedly grab the snake that’s looped around his neck and reel him in by it.

“Only ones who bought me jolly ranchers.” He preens. He can see the multi coloured hue of the wrapped candy in the huge bowl you’re carrying.

At the same time, he plucks the flimsy pointed witches hat off your head so the brim doesn’t get in his way. You unconsciously move towards the same goal together. It’s spooky. Sometimes it’s like you have the same brain. You’re one entity mashed together in a frenzy of melding hearts, music mania and relentless adolescent infatuation.

He lopes forwards and gladly slots his slanting smirk onto yours. Tasting of orange sweet candy corn and beer. His thumb and forefinger meet on your chin. Your hand slid for his neck. Fingertips along his jaw as you share a giddying kiss. You mouth at the plushness of his lips. He does the same to you.

You pull back before he makes you swoon dangerously down these steps. His kiss should come with a warning sign; dangerously addictive metal head. May possess body and soul.

You can tell already that you’ll have to wave goodbye to this lipstick. It’s now smeared all around your mouth and most of his. Now he looks like Alice Cooper doing nine to ten in Arkham Asylum.

“Hello.” You beam. Rubbing smudged purple off his lips. Vamptastic Plum the colour name.

“Hi.” He smirks like a lunatic. End of his nose rubbing into yours where he gazes at you.

He does it a lot. It’s honestly so lovesick you should be kinda nauseated.

When you’re studying. Watching a movie. Eating popcorn or pizza. Every now and again he’ll just rest his chin in his hand and smile all warm and stupid at you. Cheeks bunched and crows feet at his eyes. Even when you have paint flecked across your forehead. Or pizza cheese slung in a string across your chin. Or when you’re frowning at your fingers when you smear your nail drying polish. He loves watching you just be near him.

It always ends the same way. You’ll feel his eyes burning their fond cinnamon gaze into you. You’ll turn and meet his eyes. And that smile lopes even wider. He’ll loop a pinky though yours and kiss the back of your hand. Or your forehead.

“Permission to enter your lair?” You seek.

“Thought only vamps had to ask permission to come in?” He flirts with you. Eyes on your mouth again. Your lips all kiss bruised makes him ache. In fact, makes another sort of serpent twitch in his jeans.

“Misdirection. I am actually a vampire. The witch outfit is a clever disguise to work my cunning way into unsuspecting trailers.” You raise your brows naughtily.

He grins. “Clever subterfuge.”

He slips aside from the door to let you come in. Another kiss pressed to your lips before he lets you sidle on past him. He hangs your witches hat on the coat rack with his spare jacket and Wayne’s denim.

“Need me to park your broom?” He jests.

“Left it in the car with my black cat. You’re safe.”

“How many more witchy jokes could we stretch this out too?”

“I reckon I’ve a few left knocking around…” you guess. Placing the bucket of candy on the kitchen counter. Hopefully Eddie doesn’t pilfer the whole lot before Wayne’s home. You hope he leaves his uncle a treat or two. And doesn’t scarf the lot like a damn seagull.

This trailer hugs you any time you enter. You thought that when you and Eddie started dating. And you still think it now. Capital H home. This place. Filled with his and Wayne’s memorabilia. And a few more other things tonight;

You haven’t seen your boyfriend as much of late. He’s been out hitting the teenage party circuits with his metal lunchbox. Making a healthy chunk of change by the looks of it. He’s strung up plenty of decorations to help pep this place up with Halloween spirit.

There’s pumpkin paper garlands arced in loops up high. Orange and black twisting streamers over the mug shelves. Fake rubbery bats hanging down from the kitchen island cupboards. Dancing skeletons hanging on the little spare space the walls have to offer. The coffee table is cleared of its usual junk and absolutely heaped in candy and snacks.

Butterfingers. Butter popcorn. Pretzels. Red vines. Cheez balls. Mallomars. All of which happen to be your favourites. He has two cold beers side by side. And a fat tight joint sits waiting in the ashtray too.

He’s even bought those fake filmy cobwebs to spread in a few places with fake plastic spiders - to join in with the real ones dusted around in forgotten corners.

All your tensions melt down right to your toes. All is right with the world. Halloween night. No school tomorrow. And Eddie. And a whole uninterrupted night of movies and bliss. You’ve lost count of the amount of times a movie night has ended up getting dirty on his couch. Tape flicking to the end whilst you’re attached lip to lip with wandering hands.

You sigh gladly as you stand to toe off your shoes. Putting them aside. Heat slides into your stomach all squirly and scorching as he stands from behind you and his hand reach around and skilfully undo the cape around your shoulders.

“Let’s get you comfy my temptress of the night. Beer?” He seeks. Throwing your cape over his shoulder. It lands nowhere even near the coat rack.

“Yes please my lovable nightmare.” You sass. You walk over to the couch. Spying an absolute mound of VHS’s ready to go by the TV. The colour seemed to dip in and out sometimes. The set was old. Eddie had to whack the side sometimes to get it to behave. You find it more endearing than a set that worked seamlessly.

You pluck pieces of popcorn out the bowl and throw them onto your tongue. Crunch them down as you sit with your knees tucked under you.

Eddie kills the music and slings himself down next to you on the lumpy couch. Frame squeaking and rattling as he settles.

“Damn. You got a great selection, Munson. What did you do, bribe Harrington with your soul to score all this?” You remark as you peer at the videos on the coffee table.

1941 Wolfman. Christopher Lee’s Dracula. The Fog. Halloween. House on Haunted Hill. And Friday the 13th. You loved old school movies as much as he did. The old swelling suspense of a good black and white.

“Nothin major. Just a little selling of my body and charms. Deviant sexual acts. Just so you know I’ll have raw knees for a month.”

“Mm you filthy slut.” You hush. Impressed.

“Finest slut in the Midwest.”

“So I’ve heard.” You grin. Leaning in to kiss him. Seemed too infeasible not too. He cups the back of your head as you do. Keeping you close as he dares. Sweet kiss like icing sugar dusted across your lips.

He makes a small ‘mmm’ noise before you pull back.

“Besides. I consider The Fog a film that makes me think fondly of our very early courtship.” He remarks.

Snoopy bed shorts. A tin of Campbells. His lunatic escapades of climbing in your window late at night.

“And, well, only the best for you, Pencils.” He grins.

You tilt your head. A sigh caught in your throat.

“You must’ve busted your ass to get all this. You didn’t need too. You know I don’t need all this. I’m happy just to watch crappy reruns with you and order a pizza.” You tell him.

Concerned about the cash he would’ve laid out for tonight. The decor. The snacks. The primo shit from Rick. All must’ve cost a pretty penny.

“You’re worth every damn cent. When you’re dating a spooky awesome girl you gotta put in the ultimate spooky effort.” He tells you. Gripping his beer bottle and leaning back.

You clink your beer bottle to his.

“Please tell me you overcharged those meathead jocks for your product.”

“…. And then some.” He winks.

That’s my boy. You couldn’t be more proud.

“I’ll drink to that.” You murmur. Taking a pull on your cold beer. Cool heaven sliding down your throat.

“Thanks to Tina’s party last week, I mean, man, I scored big time. So many stoners invited. Walk in the park.” He smiled.

That deserved a kiss. Which you gladly give.

“Kinda love you for that.” You suppose. But there were no two ways about it - you were completly head over heels for him.

“Good to know.” He supplies. Hand rubbing your back.

“We better put a video on before I maul you.” You threaten with a great deal of flirt. Dragging your purple painted fingernails down the front of his top.

“Mmm kinky.” He grins. Leaning over to press a spitty kiss to your cheek. Before diving for the pile of VHS.

“Ok, roughly how long do you wanna argue about which one we watch first?” He seeks.

You narrow your eyes. Taking a sip back of your beer. “Depends if I win or not.” You look at him all cunning.

“House on haunted hill?” He bargains. Crouching and pointing the VHS at you.

“Don’t point that thing at me.” You smile. Stealing another handful of popcorn. Eating it with a grin.

Let the bickering commence…

~

The credits rolled to your third film of the night. Halloween the 1978 original. Orange twinkle lights flicker in the warm yellow lights near the kitchen. The rest of the trailer in dozy darkness. The sounds of kids trick or treating and laughing, batter against the trailer side in the night air.

You magnanimously let him pick the film. Maybe you’re growing soft in your old age.

This found you and Eddie slumped down together on the ratty couch. Limbs tangled. Joint smouldering in the ashtray. Verdant smoke in the air. Beer bottles empty. Only popcorn kernels left in the bottom of the bowl. The snacks had been pilfered and pinched at your leisure.

Eddie was pressed down onto you like a lanky weighted blanket. Snoozing happily with a belly full of beer and cheez balls. Socked feet hanging off the end of the couch. Hands slung all over you like a gangly octopus. He’s currently letting out content little breathy snores with his head cushioned against your boobs. A little spit of drool by the side of his mouth.

He’d nodded off sometime around Michael Myers fifth victim with the boyfriend and the blonde pigtails. You’d been carding your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. Made his eyes flick back in his head.

You swear he was one step away from twitching his foot in contentment like a canine at the work of your hands. Made his brain short circuit.

More so when he was on Indica. Just the kinda hit he needed for a slow sleepy and spooky night in. You can’t deny you’re fighting the effects of it yourself.

A couple of puffs. Eyelids drowsy. Your limbs feeling like cotton stuffed pillows. Indolent and slow. And now you’ve got your perfect metal head keeping you pressed down.

“Guess the party circuit wiped you for six, huh babe?” You smile. Thumbing his cheek. He mumbled something incomprehensible.

You shift your leg up. Which tumbles his knee more into your lap. He snuffled. Nuzzling his head further onto you. His breath was all sugary red vines, and fruity weed.

You kept on stroking his hair. Leaning forward to nuzzle a kiss to the crown of his messy hair. Apple shampoo and that lost tang of American spirits.

“Edward?” You ask.

You get a sleepy, sticky gurgle from him.

“I’ve got a really nice bra and panties set on under this dress, y’know.” You whisper at him.

Another mumble. You smile and rest your cheek on his warm head.

“You’ll have to let me move to put the next movie in, babe.” You tell.

“No. S’comfy.”

Then you hear him grumble. “Boobs.”

“Great boobs.”

You chuckle. Honestly.

“Knock yourself out. Munson. You smile.

Shifting down to let sleep come and gently take you too.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween.” You add. Letting your eyes close. Letting the static at the end of the video ebb you softly into dreams. Along with the sound of wind kindly rattling the roof. Brushing along the walls outside. All the trick or treaters have been coerced indoors. Safe inside with their candy spoils.

Much later on. You hear the rustle of clothes and feel the heat of his breath. The warmth of his limbs leeches off you when he moves. Coldness sneaks in.

You wake with bleary-sticky eyes to those brown ones staring back at you. Cheeks all flushed. The tell-tale sign of a tented zipper bursting at his crotch.

That dripping eye make up looks smeared and downright dangerous. He looks absolutely ravishing and you suddenly shake off your tiredness to see him looking so good like this.

“You said something about a bra, Pencils…” he smiles. “Be a shame not to show it off now-“ He beams. Waggles his brows.

“Heard that did you?” Your brow crooks.

Happy Halloween, indeed.

This is for everyone; but especially for @tvserie-s-world @lunatictardis @heyndrix @callmeloverr @joequinnswhore @atabigail @thewrathoffemalerage @lurkingprincess @songforeddiemunson @palomahasenteredthechat @babybluebex

[luvingshidou]

Can you do a part 2 of the bllk boys reacting to their gf doing ballet but with isagi, ness and nagi?

SUREEEE 🫶🫶🫶

CHARMED

bllk boy x fem! ballerina! reader part 2

established relationship

thank u anonnn💗💗💗

probs ooc

ISAGI YOICHI

Isagi was coming back to both yours and his apartment after a long day of practice. He was exhausted and just wanted a hot bath, and to cuddle up with you, he did text you that he'd be back home very soon. Oh, how he wished he was already in your arms. After another while of walking, Isagi was at your front door. He got his keys out and began opening the door. As soon as he did, he saw you standing in front of him ballet gear still on. For a minute, he froze up not knowing what to say. You've never told him about this????

"Sweetheart, you do ballet????" He asks as he walks up to you, closing the door behind him.

"Y-yes." You muttered quietly, nodding almost sheepishly, your cheeks becoming red out of embarrassment.

"Oh??? How long have you been doing it for???" Isagi asks, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Four years, sorry for not telling you, Yoi." You say, still very embarrassed by him catching you in your ballet gear.

"Hmmm, it okay, baby!!! Plus, I can watch my pretty girlfriend do all those beautiful spins and twirls!!!" He says, smiling down at you.

"Yoichi, you don't even know if I'm good." You say, looking up at him as he kept on smiling at you.

"Huh, I don't need to???" He says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a hug.

ALEXIS NESS

Ness was cleaning around the house while you were sleeping after a long day of studying and working. He wanted to help you out since you were usually the one cleaning most of the time while he was at practice. After ironing one of your dresses, he was about to hang it up in your wardrobe, but that's when he saw a pair of ballet shoes hidden behind some of your clothes.

Why were they there??? Maybe one of your friends left them here??? Do you not trust him to tell him that you do ballet??? Ness mind was racing with different scenarios, most of them just being him overthinking. Ness decided to forget about them and was about to put them back when you came in the room.

"A-ah, angel!!!" He said, his voice filled with uncertainty as he hid the ballet shoes behind him. "How was your sleep???"

"Good." You mumble groggily, stretching your arms. That's when you noticed the ballet shoes that Ness was hiding behind his back. Fuck.

"Baby, where did you find those ballet shoes????" You ask him, slightly surprised that he even found them.

"Uhm, they were in the wardrobe, darling." Ness replies. That's when you remember the last time Ness nearly caught you practing, so you chucked the shoes at the back of your wardrobe. "Do you not trust me enough to tell me that you do ballet???" Ness asks, his lips curling into a frown.

"Baby, no, I— I just know you're busy, I don't want you to waste time by watching me perform." You say, wrapping your arms around him to give him a hug.

Ness hugs you back, his frown turing into a smile from your warm embrace. "Darling, I want to see you perform, I want to see how pretty you'd look."

NAGI SEISHIRO

You and Nagi were cuddling together in bed. He was on his phone scrolling through Instagram while you were watching him look at reels and photos that had the humour of a 12 year old teenage boy. When a video of you performing competitively at a competition came, Nagi instantly knew it was you, but the way you moved had Nagi mesmerised, you moved so gracefully.

"Angel, you move beautifully." He murmurs, still staring at his phone. "Why didn't ya tell me???"

"Cause you'd probably find it a hassle to watch me perform, lazyhead." You sigh, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Well, not if you perform like that." The tall white head mumbles lazily, putting his phone down for once and began to look at you.

"Ah, so the lazy genius wouldn't mind going to watch me perform??? Wouldn't it be too much of a hassle for ya???" You ask, smirking slightly to yourself in amusement.

Nagi wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a cosy embrace. "When it comes to you, pretty I don't mind if anythings a hassle." Nagi mumbles as he began to smile slightly at you.

[florawrites-blog]

You sat on the couch, flipping through the pictures on your phone from earlier in the day. One photo caught your eye—a shot of you smiling, but something about it didn’t feel right. You stared at it for a moment before your fingers nervously brushed your lips.

“Do my teeth look crooked in this pic?” you suddenly asked, turning to Heeseung, who was sitting beside you.

Heeseung, ever attentive, immediately perked up. His brows furrowed in mock concern, and he leaned in closer.

"Omg, let me see," he said, playfully exaggerating his words.

He moved closer, his face now just inches from yours, studying you like he was on a serious mission. You grinned widely, baring your teeth so he could take a good look. But instead of the teasing comment or reassurance you were expecting, Heeseung’s expression shifted. His playful demeanor softened into something more tender. He placed two fingers gently under your chin, lifting your face slightly, causing your breath to hitch.

His eyes locked with yours, and suddenly the air felt different—warmer, more intimate. You blinked, wondering what he was about to say. His face leaned even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. But instead of speaking, Heeseung did something completely unexpected.

He kissed your teeth.

Your eyes widened in shock, your mind reeling from the strange, unexpected affection. You blinked, utterly confused, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Who even thinks of something like that?

Heeseung pulled back slightly, a mischievous grin on his face as if he knew exactly how surprised you were. He scrunched his nose in that cute way he always did when he was up to something.

“Mmm, nope. They’re perfectly alright,” he said, his voice light with humor. “You look like a piranha—" He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening. "Even better, my piranha."

You couldn’t help but burst into giggles, the absurdity of the moment melting any insecurity you had. Heeseung’s laughter followed yours, warm and carefree. Before you could recover, he leaned in again, this time until your noses were brushing against each other, the space between you nonexistent.

Your giggles quieted as you both lingered there, faces so close it felt like time had paused. The warmth of his smile, the sound of his laughter, and the softness in his eyes made your heart swell with affection. It was impossible not to feel happy when Heeseung was like this—teasing, affectionate, and always knowing exactly how to make you feel like the only person in the world.

Your noses brushed again, and you giggled softly, still trying to process how you went from worrying about your teeth to Heeseung kissing them.

“Who even thinks of that?” you asked, shaking your head with a grin.

“I do,” Heeseung whispered, his voice filled with laughter as his forehead rested against yours.

And in that moment, with barely an inch between you, both of you giggling like little kids, you realized that no one could ever make you feel as light and carefree as Heeseung did.

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your weekend is over and you say goodbye to Bradley, but you both hope that it won't be another ten years before seeing each other again. Bradley was desperate for more of you, and this time, he'd make sure to do whatever he needed to get it. He just needs you to fulfill your end of the deal first.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You didn't want to move. Ever. You just wanted to lay here on top of Bradley on your bed in your little house. Keep him with you forever. 

This moment was too perfect. His hands rubbed your back underneath the soft fabric of his Grateful Dead shirt, and he was singing to you. He was singing the lyrics of your tattoo, with something extra added on.

You don't know how easy it is to love you, Sugar.

Part of you wanted to fall asleep like this, absorbing his body heat, and his voice, and his love. But you didn't know for sure when you'd get to see him again. You didn't want to think about the possibility that you might not. 

Because admitting that you loved each other ten years ago and saying you still felt that way now.... well, that didn't necessarily mean that you and Bradley would be able to mesh your separate lives together into something you could both live with. Although, this weekend that you got to spend reunited with him did feel more serendipitous than you'd like to admit. Your mind was still reeling, still searching for the logic in this situation.  

When Bradley stopped singing and you felt his fingers at the back of your neck, you sighed and let yourself enjoy this moment. After you pressed your lips to his scars, you asked him, "Will you send me those selfies you texted to Nat?"

Bradley studied your face, and even with the soft lighting, you could tell his cheeks were flushing with color. "Sure." He kissed you gently and then slipped out from under you to retrieve his phone from the bathroom while you located yours under a pile of discarded clothing on your floor. 

"What is it?" you asked, when he sprawled out on your bed once more. "You're blushing right now, Beer Boy."

He handed you his unlocked phone and cleared his throat as you crawled over next to him. "You can send them to yourself. I already saved them to a folder."

"Okay," you said, taking his phone and looking at the wallpaper, which was a picture of his Super Hornet. "Which folder?" 

You tapped on the photo gallery and it opened to neatly organized pictures with labels and dates. He had things pertaining to his aircraft, one labeled 'House Projects', and then you saw one that made you suck in a short breath.

There was a folder labeled 'Sugar' at the top of the gallery. 

"You have a whole folder of...me?"

He just nodded, his brows furrowed now. "The passcode is your birthday. Text whatever you want to yourself." You could tell he was trying for a tone of nonchalance, but it wasn't translating as cool as he probably thought it was. You typed in your four digit birthday, and the folder opened.

At the top you saw the selfies he had taken just a few hours ago, the ones he sent to his best friend. You started to select them, but then decided to scroll down to see more. 

"I thought you said you had one picture of us that you showed to Nat and Bob," you whispered, but Bradley just shrugged.

The folder was filled with candid shots of you from ten years ago at frat parties and in the library study room. There were some where you were smiling and biting your lip, others where you were concentrating on a textbook and paying him no mind. He had even taken a picture of his bedroom door at some point, on which he had written 'SUGAR what's your number?'

"Bradley," you whispered, but he was running his hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling. The pictures you had taken to make Phoebe jealous were all there, too. You and he were in the kitchen at the Beta house, enjoying your fake spring break together. There were photos of you kissing and licking his lips, one of you sucking melted chocolate off of his fingers, and several of Bradley touching and kissing your bare breasts. 

"I took those to make Phoebe jealous," you whispered, looking at him while he still avoided your gaze. "I thought you would have deleted them."

He shook his head. "Couldn't bring myself to. Couldn't delete any of them."

You paused for a beat, looking at a selfie of the two of you a few weeks before graduation. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. You both looked unbelievably happy. 

"Did your other girlfriends mind that you kept these?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "Why do you think it has a passcode? None of them knew about it."

You bit your lip and inched closer until your knees were bumping his side. "Do you have a folder for each of your other ex girlfriends, too?" you asked softly. 

Bradley finally reached for you, pulling you so you were straddling his lap and looking down at him. "You see any other folders in there?"

You didn't need to scroll to know he only had a folder of you, so you shook your head and started selecting all of the pictures in the 'Sugar' folder to send to yourself. 

"It's just you," Bradley whispered. "I've only ever been in love with you."

You hit send and leaned down to kiss him while your phone lit up across the bed. 

"I can't fucking believe I could have been texting you this whole time," he said as you kissed his cheek. "I figured you'd blocked me permanently. Or that you had a different phone number. I thought you were probably married."

You laughed and asked, "Would you have really texted me?"

"Hell no," Bradley replied, holding you against him. "Couldn't deal with the disappointment of you not remembering who I was."

You kissed him for a long time. Eventually you both slipped under the blankets, rolling onto your sides and sharing the softest touches. Every gentle brush of his lips against yours felt like the promise he made to you, felt like he would wait to hear your answer after you visited both schools.

"You think I could forget you? I've only ever been in love with you too, Bradley."

------------------------

Every time Bradley pulled you close to him, you lit him up with your laughter. "I don't want to leave," he whined over and over again as you and he made breakfast together on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop touching you through the soft fabric of his old shirt. "Fuck the Navy. I'm staying here."

"You don't mean that," you said with a smile. "Don't you miss your friends? And your Super Hornet?" You were being coy now, and he didn't know if it was because you were going to miss him too, or because you wanted to know where you ranked.

Bradley groaned dramatically. "I don't miss Nat. She was downright sweet to you when you were texting last night. But she's never that nice to me. And I guess I miss flying, but pretty soon, I'll be doing that every day for six weeks."

"That's true, I suppose."

While you tried to plate some pancakes, Bradley whispered, "I'd rather be doing you every day for six weeks."

You giggled and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You always were smooth, Beer Boy. Too smooth for your own good. But does that mean you'll be thinking about me at night? On the aircraft carrier? When you're tired and unable to sleep?"

His eyes drifted closed. Now he had a whole arsenal of images he just knew would be circulating through his mind; 21 year old Sugar and 31 year old Sugar. Both too sweet for him, but exactly what he wanted. 

"Not only then. I'll be thinking about you a lot. Waiting to hear from you as soon as I dock back in San Diego."

You fed him bites of pancake while he caged you in against the kitchen counter. "How will I know when you get back? Do they tell you the date ahead of time?"

"Yeah, but sometimes it changes according to the weather and mission parameters. I'll text you as soon as I can. Don't worry about that. You can tell me about the schools, and we can talk on the phone and catch up."

"Okay," you agreed, setting the food off to the side and wrapping your arms around him. And now Bradley was feeling guilty again. He shouldn't be talking to you like this right now. There were too many things up in the air. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of ways to get a transfer to Florida if you picked Miami. He couldn't live without you now. 

He took your face in both of his hands, running his thumb along your swollen lips and smiling at the dark smudges under your eyes. Neither of you had slept much last night, and Bradley had been kissing you almost nonstop. "I love you, Sugar."

Your eyes drifted closed briefly before you nodded against his hands. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I don't know if I can stop now."

"Don't."

---------------------------

After you ate, you spent hours in your bed with Bradley, talking and touching each other. Your words grew softer, and you found yourself clinging to him a bit more as the morning turned to early afternoon. You were laughing, and he was kissing your shoulder when suddenly a soft sob escaped your lips. 

He pulled back to look up at you, but you just shook your head. "I don't want you to leave."

Then he was looking at you like he was in agony. "I would stay if I could. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Our timing kind of sucks, but maybe we can figure it all out. You're smart, Sugar," he murmured as his lips found your tattoos. "You'll figure it out and let me know where I stand." When you opened your mouth to tell him you could figure it all out right now, he kissed your lips. "But not yet," he added. 

Did this man really think you'd fall in love with Miami more than you loved him? You almost laughed, but then he was sucking on one of the spots on your neck that was still tender from last night's activities. 

"Bradley," you whined softly. He was hard and pressing against your clit just right. His tongue and lips were soothing your neck only to be met with his prickly mustache. 

"I need to leave soon, baby. Tell me how you need it."

The most unholy moan left your lips, and you were surprised you could sound that needy. "Slow. Just go slow."

He nodded against you, sliding through your silky wetness and entering you so leisurely, it somehow felt filthy. When you tried to press up against him to take him faster and deeper, Bradley scolded you.

"No, no. You're getting it slow, Sugar. It's what you need. I need it, too."

"Fuck," you gasped, winding your fingers in his pretty hair while he spread your pussy wide, squeezing your thighs. "Bradley."

And you knew this might be your last time with him like this. At least for a while. 

--------------------------------

Bradley was in heaven, basking in the little sounds you made just for him. You had told him he was the best and that you still loved him. But he wanted to be your only one.  

As he worked his thumb softly along your clit, he paused his ministrations each time he felt you clench around him. "Please." Your voice was soft and broken, and after he'd taken you close but not all the way a few times, you were begging. "Bradley."

He responded by kissing his name on your lips and tasting your tongue. He swiped his fingers against your clit just the way you liked it best, and you anchored yourself to him with your fingers tugging on his hair.

"Shh, nice and slow," he grunted next to your ear, and once again you were clenching around him. Your moans were building like a crescendo, and soon he was panting just like you were. "I love you. I'd wait forever to be with you again."

He watched a tear leak from the corner of your eye, and he kissed it away as you came on his cock. Bradley rocked into you slowly, watching you squeeze your eyes shut as he filled you up, rubbing his lips and mustache along your neck. 

Finally you were looking up at him again, and he was just as mesmerized by your beautiful, expressive face now as he had been in college. Your voice was soft and spent as you whispered, "I love you, too, Beer Boy."

But he knew it was time to leave you. The idea of being away from you again had him panicking like it did before. What if you changed your mind while he was gone for six weeks? Completely out of contact with you? "I'm not going anywhere, Sugar. But I do need to leave."

"I understand." You smiled softly at him, and then your lip quivered as your eyes filled with tears. Bradley withdrew himself from the comfort of your body and wrapped you in his arms. 

"I'll text you when I get back. You can let me know when you're able to call me, and we can figure this shit out, okay? I'll text you before I even text Nat, and she's the one who's supposed to pick me up."

You laughed softly against his ear. "Promise me you'll be safe when you're deployed."

He kissed your temple. "Sugar, you know I can't promise you that. But I can promise you that I love you now, and I will still love you in six weeks no matter what happens." He held onto you until the last possible minute, knowing he'd miss his flight if he waited any longer. 

When he stood up and started to gather his clothes, you tracked his movements with your eyes. "I'll come to the airport with you. I can Uber back," you told him, jumping out of bed and pulling on the tie dyed shirt and some shorts. 

Bradley watched you move around your bedroom, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse before tucking yourself against his chest. 

"We're just prolonging the inevitable, baby."

"I don't care," you replied defiantly. "I'll get an extra thirty minutes with you."

The way you could make Bradley's heart soar left him grinning. "Alright, Sugar. Let's get me to the airport."

The ride was quiet, but you held his hand in both of yours while he drove, and he sang a few Grateful Dead songs. "Sing me my song," you demanded softly, kissing his fingers. 

Bradley laughed softly. "You know, you're so perfect, Sugar, it probably was somehow written with you in mind." And then he sang for you until he pulled into the airport to return his rental car. 

You kept a firm hold on his hand until you walked him as far as you could go without a boarding pass. When Bradley set down his bag to give you a proper goodbye, your lips were immediately on his. "I love you, Beer Boy," you whispered between kisses. The brush of your lips against his mustache had him holding you tight against him, and he dug his fingers gently into the back of your neck. He kissed you so hard, you were moaning into his mouth, swiping his tongue with yours.

"I never stopped loving you," he panted, breaking away and resting his cheek against your forehead. "You seemed like a mirage the other night, at the bar. I never thought I'd get a chance to look at you again."

You laughed softly. "You can do more than look at me, Bradley. Anytime you want."

Bradley wanted a commitment now. He could feel in his very bones how right that would be. But this wasn't the time for it. "Remember what you promised me."

You nipped along his jaw, saying, "I'll look at both schools, Lieutenant Bradshaw. And then I will report back to you when you are once again on dry land."

"That's my girl," he crooned, and your gaze met his with so many unspoken questions and answers. "I'll be thinking about you. Just like I always do." He kissed your cheek and then pressed his lips to your mouth in one final kiss before getting in line for security. You stood there in his favorite shirt and watched him until you couldn't see him any longer, your arms wrapped around your midsection while you cried. 

He used his phone to call you a ride back to your house and texted you the information. You wrote back right away. 

This was the best weekend of my life.

------------------------

You were so antsy to talk to Bradley. You were thinking about him all the time now. As you sat on your desk in your office, eating a sandwich and looking at your packed boxes, you wondered if he was eating dinner. Or maybe it was the middle of the night where he was. Maybe he was thinking about you, too.

This room reminded you of him, and he had only been here once. This desk especially reminded you of him. When you passed Ted, the security guard on your way in earlier, you thought about Bradley while Ted blushed and greeted you softly. 

And that's how it had been for the past two weeks. You had Beer Boy on your mind almost nonstop. Sure, he'd popped into your thoughts pretty frequently over the last ten years, but this was overpowering. Now that you knew you could reach him by phone if you wanted to, you hated that he was deployed and out of contact. 

You sighed, giving in to your urge once more to scroll through Nat's Instagram page. You had already memorized every post with Bradley in it, but it didn't hurt to look once more. And then you told yourself it would be okay to look at all of the photos that had been in his secret Sugar folder. 

You had to tip your head back and press your lips together to keep from moaning, because just the thought of Bradley keeping those pictures for ten years made you want him badly. 

And then started the vicious cycle of hating deployments. 

"Fuck," you groaned, tucking your phone away. You would drop your boxes off with your friend Veronica, and then you had another week in Virginia before you started your adventure. 

First stop, Miami.

-------------------

Bradley was laying in his tiny bed aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, thinking about you. He wondered if you were in Miami or San Diego yet. He wondered if you had visited either of the schools. He wondered if you had made a decision and how he would fit into it. 

He was halfway through his deployment, and it had been so boring. Even though he desperately wanted to talk to you, he had decided to give you some space while he was gone. So instead, he'd used his one facetime call to talk to Nat, but he had spent most of it catching her up on his weekend in Virginia.

"You're still in love with her," Nat had said with dreamy eyes. 

"Yes. I am still in love with her. And I've given her the power to break my heart a second time. Nat, I won't survive."

But in typical best friend fashion, she had been able to calm his nerves and tell him he needed to focus on work for now and give you some space. He would give you as much time and space as you wanted or needed, if he just knew for sure he could see you again.

------------------------

They parted ways, and I want to cry. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[1-800-papaya]

Not so southern

Jay Halstead x Baker!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death and loss of parent

A Letter. A deathbed confession. It wasn’t something Y/N had ever expected a mere month after the death of her mother. She’d barely returned to Chicago after the funeral, barely returned to the cafe; she’d barely returned to Jay.

The open letter lay still on the table of the couple’s home. Y/N sat frozen, her eyes locked on the carefully written words floating in a river of unanswered questions in her mind. Her mother truly knew she had to leave an impression. But could she call the woman who had raised her her mother? Was it right to attach that title to a woman who had kept a life-altering secret from her? It was sitting at the table, her mind reeling that her newly minted husband found her later that afternoon.

Jay groaned as he dragged his tired body. The day didn’t seem to end, and a tough case was always twisting and evolving into something ugly and demented. When, Voight had finally allowed his detectives to leave and gather their strength, Jay had all but leapt from his desk and rushed out of the district. Though his partner’s tired, teasing smiles didn’t escape his eyes. The routine that had developed over the last two years wasn’t something Jay enjoyed breaking, but the light and warmth he longed for was not dusted in powder sugar or smeared in chocolate behind a counter.

The small two-story home’s door never felt so heavy as when the day dragged on like an endless tunnel. Jay could tell straight away that something was wrong. The house was cold and still. The only movement was Luna slinking to greet him. While Jay loved Y/N’s two furballs, Milo grated Jay’s last nerve most days; Luna and her subdued personality were more his speed. There was no warm feeling that filled each visitor; no delicious gooey chocolate smell filled the air.

“Hi Lu, do you know what’s going on? Hmm, Sunshine?” no response. Jay’s nerves grew. He knew she was home; her precious bronco was sitting in the driveway. Jay wondered aimlessly through the house before finding his loving wife sitting still like a stone statue.

“Y/N/N, love”, Jay’s voice was soft as he gently approached the young woman. Kneeling beside her, Jay watched as she turned slowly, and his concern grew when he noticed the rivers of silent tears that were running steadily down her cheeks. “What’s wrong”

Y/N didn’t trust her voice. Everything in her life felt like it was betraying her like it was wrong. Silently her shaking hand reached for the letter, a piece of paper that felt as heavy as concrete. She didn’t trust her wobbling voice to convey the news her ‘mother’ was telling her from beyond the grave. She looked away as reality started to sink in and her sobs became audible, breaking her husbands heart as he read his late mother-in-laws words.

Dear Y/N, I know now that my days are numbered, and I can feel life leaving me as my strength drains more each day. As such, I have a secret, my dear, that I feel I need to tell you now. It is a secret I once told myself I would’ve told you by now, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do so. This is much harder than I thought. I hope you will forgive me for keeping such information from you, dear. You are adopted. Your father and I loved each other but could not have children. When we saw your little face, we fell in love. The orphanage was overrun and loud, yet you were sound content��so peaceful. Now, I know this is quite shocking, and we may never be given the opportunity to talk, given my health. But I want you to continue to be yourself, darling. Do not let this change you. I saw how happy you are with Jay. Mary has shown me a lot of photos you sent of your wedding. I know you may have questions, so I have spent my recent spike in free time doing the work for you. Your original birth certificate will be sent alongside this letter. I do hope we see each other again before I leave, but if we do not, please do not linger too much on this information. You have quite a life ahead of you with Jay, live it, if not for me dear, but for yourself. Love Mum

Jay instinctively reached for the other piece of paper sitting neatly on the table—a birth certificate—an Illinois birth certificate. His eyes scanned the document. Shock filled his very being when he fully registered the names written in the father and mother of child boxes. Camille and Hank Voight. His wife was the daughter of his boss. Within seconds, his eyes flickered up, and his body moved quicker than his thoughts. Wrapping his arms loving and tightly around Y/N, Jay offered comfort and affection that she accepted without hesitation.

“I still love you, Sunshine”, Jay mumbled into his wife of barely two months’ hair. Y/N didn’t say a word, not that Jay needed a response. The house stayed still and silent for most of the night; she became numb and motionless as Jay moved about and eventually carried her to their bed, reassuring her that nothing between them had changed.

Tag List @smoothdogsgirl

[thefrogman]

Fishing for Follows

I don't really like Instagram.

It does a bad job of displaying photos as an artist intends. So artists have to adapt their photos to conform to how Instagram works. Any photography that involves high resolution detail get shrunk down and compressed and usually seen on a tiny screen. But if you do want to see it on a proper screen, the desktop version of the site still shrinks your work and dedicates half the page to comments. Put the comments underneath! They want you to use their crops and their shitty filters. And for some reason, everyone uses reels now instead of just a regular post. Timers make me anxious! I don't like the pressure of having to consume the content in the time alotted. Sometimes my brain works slow and I just want to process what I'm seeing. And then if I want to come back and see that thing again, IT'S GONE! Why do you all like self-destruction so much?

Oh and there is no real community sharing infrastructure so if you want to build any kind of following it's like twice as hard.

Instagram kinda sucks, is what I'm saying.

But I am trying to be a legit photographer again and Instagram is where all of the photographers seem to end up.

And if I want to get clients at some point I will be asked, "what's your Insta?" from people wanting to vet my work and see if I have chops.

So I am trying to curate a collection of my best work.

Due to being a full time caregiver for both of my parents, I had to quit photography for a few years. Most of my work was captured before 2017, but it is all edited in 2024. So, I was not nearly as good at lighting, but I can mostly make up for that with my much more advanced editing skills.

Like, I took this photo of a shoe with a full studio setup and fancy lights.

Cut to present day, my studio is now a storage room, my fancy lights are gone, and all I have is a tiny front room and two inexpensive video lights.

I feel like I did more with less.

I spent these past 6 years studying the blade.

My brain is filled with so much knowledge.

And once I rebuild my studio, I'm going to photograph some cool shit.

And so... if you don't mind...

Would you please follow me on Insta?

Do I really have to say it like that?

Can I just say Instagram? Embrace my age a little?

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (iv)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1865

part 4 this has some very minor mentions of body image stuff if you dont like it you could just skip over it ://

part i part ii part iii

Yn’s arrival in Monza carried a sense of self that had been slowly rebuilding all season. She moved with renewed confidence through the paddock, her head held high, embodying the fierce passion and easy-going charm that had once captivated fans in her junior days. Here, under the electric atmosphere of Italy’s temple of speed, she felt herself settling in, embracing the spotlight rather than shrinking from it.

Press day buzzed around her, a mix of genuine questions and the probing kind that often skirted on invasive. She answered with a cool, unwavering smile, handling questions about her race performance and strategy with ease. But some journalists were still hung up on the idea of her supposed transformation, finding subtle ways to question her ambition and intensity.

A reporter cut through the murmur with a pointed question: “Yn, some fans feel you’ve changed since moving into Formula 1. They say your intensity now is… well, a bit harsh compared to your easy-going reputation before. What do you think about that?”

Yn took a measured breath, holding the reporter’s gaze. “I think everyone grows and adapts,” she replied, her tone steady. “I’ve had to become tougher—this is Formula 1. You don’t get to this level by staying exactly the same.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly, knowing her response might surprise them. “But I’m still me. Maybe they just don’t know the whole me yet.”

Inside, however, Yn felt the familiar weight of their criticisms. Headlines seemed to dissect her appearance as much as her performance. She’s always known what it felt like to be looked at but not seen, to feel reduced to surface-level perceptions. Later in the garage, she scrolled through social media, seeing how her every move was scrutinized, with articles speculating on her appearance and attitude. A headline caught her eye, dissecting how she looked and speculating on her dedication. It stung, yet Yn brushed it off as best as she could, knowing what mattered most were the hours she put in, the passion and drive that defined her journey.

During a break, she slipped outside for a moment, breathing in the cool air and finding a rare sense of calm. Standing by the paddock entrance, she felt a nudge on her shoulder. Yuki, with a comforting grin, extended a cup of coffee toward her.

“All good?” he asked, his eyes bright with the same familiar warmth she’d come to count on.

She chuckled, taking the coffee. “Am I that transparent?”

He shook his head, nudging her gently. “No, you’re strong as hell. Just don’t forget that,” he replied.

Yn smiled down at the coffee, grateful for Yuki’s support. In Monza, she felt a freedom that hadn’t been there for a long time—permission to be herself without apology, knowing she had someone in her corner.

The weekend drew out a renewed side of her, and fans were quick to notice her lighthearted interactions with Yuki. TikTok and Instagram filled with reels and montages of the two sharing inside jokes, quiet encouragements, and lingering glances. Their connection sparked countless posts:

@GridGoddess: If Yn has a #1 fan, it’s Yuki for sure 🥹 #YukiYn

@RaceRomantics: The way they just… get each other? God when will it be my turn?!

@PitStopParadise: Can’t believe people judge her she’s literally my GOAT.

Amid the noise of judgment, Yn also felt a quiet source of strength growing, both from Yuki’s presence and her newfound resilience. She realized that her journey wasn’t for validation from fans or critics, but for herself.

That night, she and Yuki found a quiet corner at a small Monza restaurant, sharing stories over dinner as if it were just them against the world. When a few photos of them laughing surfaced online, fans noticed the quiet bond between them—an understanding that went beyond words. She deserves someone like Yuki, a fan tweeted, someone who’s her equal on and off the track.

With race day approaching, Yn’s focus intensified. Every lap around the circuit, every second shaved off her time, felt like her own triumph, undiluted by headlines or opinions. As she put on her helmet before practice the next day, she caught Yuki’s eye, and he gave her a confident nod.

Race day in Monza held a restless energy in the air, heightened by the sharp roar of engines and the flash of flags. Yn felt a pulse of determination beating through her, gripping the wheel with an intensity she hoped would carry her through the demanding laps ahead. As the lights went out, she carved her way through each corner, holding off fierce competition and securing a spot within the points. By the time she crossed the finish line, she could feel the relief of a race well-executed, even as she knew the spotlight would focus just as much on her demeanor as her results.

She made her way to the pit lane, pulling off her helmet and savoring the sounds of her team’s cheers, the satisfaction of another solid performance in the books. But as she looked around, her eyes fell on Yuki, who had also finished within the points but seemed to be reeling with adrenaline. His helmet was off, and his expression held a smirk of satisfaction that was more defiant than usual. Yn couldn’t help but laugh; she’d heard his radios during the race, the frustration and raw emotion that bled through his exchanges with his engineers. He’d been more aggressive on track than ever, pushing boundaries and holding his ground in a way she admired.

Yn walked over to him, smiling as he caught her eye. “Pushed it a bit today, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Yuki shrugged, smirking in return. “Didn’t hear them complaining when it got us into the points,” he replied, unbothered. “Sometimes you have to ignore the noise and go for it.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Guess so,” she said, both of them knowing how different the reaction would be if she’d been the one shutting down her engineers with the same bite or cutting through the grid with that kind of aggression.

But as they made their way back into the paddock, social media was quick to start dissecting the race. Fans and analysts alike noted the sharpness in Yuki’s demeanor over the radio, his unabashed intensity on the track. Comments trickled in about his fierceness:

@F1Hearted: “Yuki’s intensity out there—exactly what we need. He was just defending his position like a champ.”

@GridGoddess: “Seeing Yuki hold his ground? No one could say he wasn’t going all-in today.”

@RaceForGlory: “Yuki letting out some heat on the radio… we love a driver who knows what he wants.”

But alongside these supportive voices, Yn saw a few familiar phrases creeping into her feed—posts from those who’d noticed the contrast. No one was labeling Yuki’s behavior as “too much” or “emotional.” No one was implying he lacked the control to handle the pressure. The familiar double standard sat in the back of her mind like a shadow, a reminder of how different things could look when she was the one showing that level of intensity.

@F1RaceQueen: “Funny how when Yuki goes full throttle, it’s ‘passion,’ but when Yn does it, they can’t wait to call her ‘too emotional’ or ‘out of control.’”

@EqualSpeed: “Imagine if Yn spoke to her engineers like that? Guarantee they’d be all over it in the media by now.”

@PitStopPrincess: “Yuki’s aggression: ‘Driven.’ Yn’s aggression: ‘Emotional.’ When are we gonna let her race with the same freedom?”

Yn didn’t need these comments to tell her what she already knew. She’d felt the double standard for years—how her every move, every calculated risk, came under scrutiny, analyzed and picked apart with an intensity that often felt like it wasn’t even about her driving at all. Sympathy’s a knife when they only want to use it to cut you down, she thought. Yet somehow, her every success only sharpened the blade.

Later, she found Yuki relaxing in the hospitality tent, still carrying that sense of accomplishment despite the edgy drive. She joined him, pulling out a chair and watching as he glanced over, eyes glinting with amusement.

“So… intense race today?” she asked, unable to hide a grin.

“Had to be,” he replied, shrugging. “They’ll get over it. We’re here to drive, not win any popularity contests, right?”

She smiled, but her gaze softened. “If only it were that easy. Sometimes it feels like we’re driving two different races, you know? You can go out there, push the limits, and they see it for what it is. For me… they don’t just want to watch me drive…”

Yuki’s face fell for a moment, and he gave her a sympathetic nod. “Trust me, I see it too. It’s messed up… the things they say about you, about how you handle yourself.” He sighed, crossing his arms. 

She took a breath, “I’m learning to tune it out. Most of the time, anyway.” She glanced up at him, managing a small smile. “But thanks for seeing it.”

Yn would be lying if she said that she wasn’t even just a little bit jealous of the other drivers on the grid. Sure, they too got their fair share of criticisms, but they were also afforded a lot more freedom than she was. They could push boundaries, show frustration, and even make mistakes without it being dissected into a commentary on their character or capability. They weren’t labeled as “emotional” or “out of control” for a bit of aggression or a curt radio message. Instead, their passion was seen as intensity, their mistakes as just a part of the game.

She knew it was because they were men, that their presence on the grid was never questioned, never viewed as something “out of place.” No one saw their outbursts as a threat or their ambition as too much to handle. They were allowed to be fierce, even volatile, because it was accepted as part of what made them great competitors. Meanwhile, she had to fight not only for her results but for the right to be seen as a competitor at all—without every emotion or misstep being judged under a microscope.

Sometimes she wished she had that same freedom to just drive, to let herself be ruthless without second-guessing every reaction, wondering how it would be spun or if it would become a talking point. She wanted the same unspoken allowance to be aggressive, to be a risk-taker, without it being a commentary on her “femininity” or a challenge to her professionalism. But instead, she had to keep a tight hold on every word, every expression, every surge of frustration, because the world was waiting, eager to box her in or define her by anything other than her skill.

The jealousy wasn’t rooted in resentment toward her fellow drivers but in a longing to be given the same space to race freely, to know that her drive, her ambition, her mistakes, and her success could simply be hers. And as she watched the other drivers on the grid, it became clear: she wanted nothing more than to be seen as one of them, an equal, no qualifiers attached.

[moonshynecybin]

thinking about FCO Rosquez at their first PR-forced public dinner (like a week or two after the announcement, Wednesday or Thursday night) and how their conversation is supposed to go when Marc was dying to talk to Valentino all winter (still has a string of unanswered texts in his phone) but now he’s closed off and Valentino wants to make this work but can’t have them fight in public or be silent for an entire hour, do we think they find a middle ground or Vale just talk about random things on his own or they somehow ignore everything and are able to tell each other about their winter or subjects that have nothing to do with MotoGP or—

court mandated date night nooooo poor marc :(

this is so nuts to think about... like even outside the insane emotional reality of getting outed and the violence of public scrutiny and like. marc having (once again !) his ability to control his own narrative ripped away from him by his association with valentino— which is his LEAST favorite thing (i do think he blames himself for the photos though... like maybe if i wasnt such a whore we wouldnt be in this mess :((( which. marc buddy naur.) on TOP of that he is having a romantic candellit dinner with his ex situationship that he is still in love with. one million points lightning damage. so everyone is extremely strung out at this shitty little date night table (michelin restaurant lbr) and marc has justtttt gone dark on his whatsapp thread with valentino. maybe he is trying to maybe exert some control over his life here in small ways... put up SOME walls in clumsy self protective fashion...

but VALE is like okay. so if this thing between us is public he doesnt want it or want me. interesting. okay im cool im fine im good np who cares i hate him anyway (girl.) and he's also um. kind of reeling from the abrupt reversal of the status quo here tbh. marc has never played hard to get ever ever not once in his entire life. no self preservation on that man 5ever. he's literally always been there giving vale flattering attention and being in love with him !!! so vale is kind of off-balance here being met with some version of the marc marquez freezeout, not sure how to react but missing marc's attention. and he chooses to compensate as he does with most roadblocks in his life: full charm offensive. (he also, in some selfless and tender corner in the back of his mind that he is trying to ignore, just really and truly knows marc is FREAKED and misses seeing him laugh. he wants the evil jajajas.... he will do anything for the evil jajajas....) so he is trying. SO hard to get him to crack a smile. lowkey causing a scene in the restaurant by being such a clown... but marc isnt really biting. is still responding, like they ARE having a conversation, but its nothing like it used to be. clearly he is just being polite. smiles twice ALL night—all wan and pale and beautiful and so clearly exhausted—and vale's mouth gets all dry and his ribcage feels like its going to implode. and of course in response to this he is like wow. my heartburn is going crazy. damn. [chugging wine].

like looking to real life, as awkward as rosquez have been in their years of estrangement, they have always had to share space. for 6 years in that paddock ! that's a lot of years of small talk ! they can have and will do it if necessary... so as the night drags i think marc talks about riding and the season to fill in the gaps... goes home and gives himself a list of regimented rules to stick to when interacting with valentino (i see him texting exclusively the PR thread more as his classically unpracticed self protection style than like. a deliberate fuck you to that end. i cant drunk booty call vale if karen from PR is also there type stuff). that being said, eventually i do think he makes elaborate excuses to BEND these rules bc he still wants valentino's attention. and also his tongue in his mouth. hes like okay! i am only kissing valentino in front of tv cameras if we both podium! and then they DONT share a podium and hes like. okay! it would be WEIRD if i didnt kiss vale after i podiumed even if he didnt! because thats what i would do if we were actually together! [starts jogging across the paddock like a dick-seeking missile.]

[bitterbutblue]

kokomi my love

when she loved me ☆ kokomi x reader

~ the amount of sad fucking relationship reels i got last night made me sad so now im projecting fuck u isntagram reels algorithm u made me CRY AT NIGHT

inspired by twenty five twenty one, 500 days of summer, u know the drill. if u guys want a full twenty five twenty one inspired long fic (with chapters) i am also down to write one.. i will cry writing it though

song: when she loved me - lyn lapid ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The summer she fell for you, she wishes to never think about again. Whenever a specific song comes on, she wants nothing more than to go back in time but also wants to destroy the very stereo the music is playing from. She finds herself haunted by her own movements, how they mimic yours and how she still thinks about what you would do before she does anything.

"Don't throw it-"

Laughter rang through the empty violet forests as you threw your head back, uncontrolled and raw. She found herself smiling at the sight of you, so loose and so happy. She couldn't help the laughter that began bubbling out of her own lips as she covered her mouth with her hand, doubling over. She didn't know why she's laughing so hard, she didn't know what was so funny but seeing you so unbridled filled her with giddy she hasn't felt since she was a child.

"That was ridiculous." She giggled and the way you grinned at her had her smile softening- the previous laughter dying on her lips as she feels an overwhelming wave washing over her. It felt like a lyric of a song she doesn't know the tune of, but it's a lyric she can hum from the beats of her heart. It felt like a way back to a home she has not yet entered, it felt like you. You finally composed yourself, running a hand through your hair as the beam of moonlight lit you up like an angel in the night.

"Nothing wrong with that, right?"

You walk up to her, picking up the jacket that had been laid on the ground, used as a blanket to sit on and dusted it off. You wrapped it around Kokomi, buttoning it up snuggly for her as she fit her arms through the oversized sleeves of your jacket, the warmth from the jacket and heart causing her to overheat from an overwhelming feeling.

She has that moment in a picture frame in her heart, like a photo album that had been abandoned and recently found, still dusty but holds a fortune of memories that warm you up. Except this photo album was cold, desolate. Found in a junkyard, memories of strangers and who they once were.

"Nothing wrong with that."

It's a sickening feeling in her gut, churning and spinning and she orders for Gorou to turn off the damn stereo as quickly as possible. He just obliges, not saying anything. She throws down her quill, shaking away whatever memories she has of you. Her eyes dart over her desk, with papers once organised but now strewn all over the place, a lingering memory of the evening you tidied her desk for her hits her hard and fast before suddenly fading into what it was- the past.

"You can't live like this."

A soft voice echoed through the chambers of her desk- she looked up, bleary eyed and you just sigh. You walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her from behind her chair as she leaned into your touch, visibly exhausted. Her shoulders sagged downward, her head resting against your chest as she let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding in.

"I'm doing just fine."

"Really?"

You nestled your head on top of hers as you took one of her hands into your own, interlacing your fingers together.

"It's late. Let's go home?"

''I can't." She mumbles, eyes closing as exhaustion finally settles in between her bones, filling themselves in every crevice and every little nook and cranny of her body.

"Yes you can, darling." You whispered, squeezing her hand softly "They can't have their leader collapsing on them from exhaustion, can they now?"

Like a siren's song, she found herself drawn to your voice. She couldn't even stop herself from nodding as she moved subconsciously, her body just following the sound of your voice as you led her out of her office.

The next morning, she found her office tidied. Her papers organised into a neat stack with sticky notes labelling which papers are which. She picked up the note on her desk and she felt herself grinning ear to ear as she readthe contents on the paper.

Good morning, my love! I organised your desk for you, hope that's okay. If you need anything just text me, love youuu <3

Her desk has been a mess since that day. She had no energy in her to organise her notes or to sort her files. She finds it too difficult to do now, her lack of energy every day being too much. Getting out of bed is hard enough, and she's really not in the mood to have to clean everything when she function with it being a mess just fine (albeit a little harder to get through).

She hasn't had the time or energy to go home, to take the walk down the desolate and empty streets just scares her now with the build up of what has happened. She finds herself taking another way, a route where she won't have to relive the worst of it all.

"Why?"

The broken expression on your face had her swallowing in guilt.

"I'm sorry."

"You say that every time-"

You turned away, taking a shaky breath in as you tried to calm yourself down and Kokomi just stands there like a coward.

"This is exhausting, Kokomi."

She looked down, fidgeting with her fingers as she drops her work bag onto a chair, unsure if she should approach you or not.

She should've approached you that night.

You instead turned around angrily, facing her again and the pained look in your eyes had her looking away now because it ate her alive, knowing that she caused you this much pain.

"Couldn't you just let me know earlier? You keep disappearing on me, I keep worrying about if you died out there or not-"

"I will-"

"You said that last time."

She looked down.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

She found herself not going to bed that night, sitting at the kitchen table as she listened to your muffled sobs through the door.

When Gorou tells her it's late, she just nods. The last thing she needs is to lie in an empty bed and feel the coldness of the night wrap its arms around her as an attempt to comfort her or to soothe the once-sharp pain, now faded into a dull thud with each thump of the heart. When she sleeps, she tucks her head into her arms, the hard wood digging into her elbows but the minorly uncomfortable pain is better than having to be overly consumed with her thoughts in the comforts of a bed.

She wakes up to a cup of tea in front of her and for a minute her heart leaps until she's hit with reality once more. She sees Gorou's handwriting and just wishes it was yours for a split second.

Kokomi, take care.

She screwed her eyes shut as she took a deep breath in, refusing to let you see the tears behind her eyes. You just stood opposite her, looking down at your shoes as tears fell down from your face and onto the ground.

"Was this my doing?"

The silence was broken by her shaky question as she finally brings herself to look up at you and she can feel her chest caving in again at the sight of you.

"It's not your fault."

Your voice was strained, as if you were using every atom in your body to try to make yourself sound as put together as possible.

"We've just grown so apart with all that's happened."

She has to stop herself from shaking, the entire world seems to be trembling until she realised it was just her.

"I don't want to say who's right or wrong. There isn't a right or wrong."

The evening chill that once held memories of cuddling under the stars is now just a sharp pierce through her skin, a blade running itself through each crevice of her beating and bleeding heart.

"We're making things difficult by blaming each other."

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to hold in the sob.

"You and I, we still care a lot for each other."

The words in her chest build up like word vomit.

"Did we have to come to this?" She whispered

"We were already coming to this."

She gasped when she felt a tug on her jacket, looking to see you buttoning up her jacket once more- your eyes filled with unshed tears as your trembling hands slowly slid each button through slit. A shaky gasp is let out as you tried not to sob, but it comes out choked as a tear falls and she couldn't stop herself. The shatter of her heart rang through the night as she feels the tear fall down her face, hot- burning a mark on her skin. She bit down on her lower lip once more, trying to stifle the sob but it still comes out and hearing your silent cries only made it harder for her to hold it in.

The dam breaks fully when she feels you pull her into a tight hug, and she knows this is the last time she'll feel your arms around hers like this so she holds on tight. The dam breaks and she sobs, loud and messy. The way you trembled had her feeling like she was going to shatter any minute. She held you as close as she could, arms tightening around your waist and hoping that maybe for the last time you two could just become one again.

"Let's not put ourselves through this again." You said softly, and she could feel your tears seep through her jacket- the jacket you buttoned for the last time.

She could only nod as she lets out a loud sob for the last time, and maybe the last thing you remember of her is the way she cries.

"Goodbye, Kokomi."

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Good Intentions (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Good Intentions

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Yall know the drill by now. Chaos will update this part later 👀

author's note:

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE! Holy bananas! This chapter is four five months in the making! I know it'll take you just a few minutes to read it but keep that in mind loves! Chaos slaved over this chapter because life gave me a wedgie at every flippin turn! Joker was getting on my nerves not cooperating with the dialogue then I had a HUGE plot hole that needed to be filled and I bet everyone is wondering-

When will Joker give Y/n a night she'll never forget? Not in this chapter I'm afraid! I tried to add it in but it didn't flow well so stay tuned loves! Things are gonna be happening very quickly very soon. I'm so excited!

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

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The dawn was bright and a touch cruel for waking you up in such a manner. Its persistent glare left you no chance of falling back asleep. You blinked back the last dregs of your slumber and finally became aware of your surroundings. 

The first thing you noticed was Joker lying beside you, gazing at you fondly. Anything else besides him simply ceased to exist.  

Joker was devoid of any greasepaint, allowing you full access to his handsome face, scars and all. How dare he hide this from you? Joker didn’t think himself attractive, but the dusting of freckles along his nose amplified his beauty in your opinion. You began the tedious task of counting them one by one as he spoke.  

“My Bunny is finally awake.” He cupped your cheek, his touch warm and familiar— and bestowed you a kiss before reeling back and bopping you on the nose. You jumped slightly at the random action. You would never understand Joker’s fascination with your nose.  

You swatted him away to sit up further in bed. The surface itself gave you pause.  

The last thing you remembered was lying in the back of the SUV with Joker on the side of some Blüdhaven road. Not the best locale for sex but Joker made it memorable. “Where are we?” You asked.  

Joker snorted, “Why don’t ya look for yourself?” His eyes were like a hawk watching you glance around the room. 

Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bustling streets of Gotham took up one wall. Back inside, two chairs and a couch in shades of sage and grey, sat before an electric fireplace, and a framed piece of fanart from your book series hung above it. The bathroom door was cracked open, and you could barely see the clawfoot feet of your tub peeking out from around the corner.  

You were in your guest bedroom. You were home. 

Not that you weren’t grateful, but you were still at a loss on the technicalities.  

“How did we get here?” You moved the covers back and noticed you were naked. “And where are my clothes?!” You shouted. 

Joker laughed at you scrambling to cover yourself.  

He didn’t see the point since he already had the pleasure of worshipping your body thoroughly. He had your body memorized and could navigate to the tiniest of scars with his eyes closed. Joker secretly enjoyed his Bunny acting all shy so he didn’t pull the sheet away from you.  

“Uhhh clothes? There ah.. somewhere. You didn’t need them.” Joker scoffed.  

You wished that Joker was cracking a joke. Granted that Blüdhaven wasn’t that far from Gotham City, you were still worried about optics. Cindy would kill you if any nsfw photos were leaked to the media.  

As if you needed more attention after your tabloid cover story with J was still circulating. You wanted to lay the secret lover rumors to rest not add more fuel to the fire.  

The morning sun flooded the room with its warm light and it illuminated your e/c eyes, effectively blinding your vision. “Joker please tell me you didn’t drive us back to Gotham with me naked in the passenger seat. What if someone saw?” 

You quirked an eyebrow at your distracted lover. J was looking at you, his mind however, was miles away in Metropolis.  

He was drawn in by your gorgeous eyes alit by the sun. Every day he questioned how he became so lucky to have your love. Someone so beautiful, so kind as you giving him the light of day? He was rendered speechless every time.  

“J?” you shielded your eyes from the sunlight, thus snapping him out of his daze. “Are you listening?” You asked. 

Joker blinked out of his fog to answer.  

“Ahem. I uh I’m the only one admiring the view, doll. The windows are tinted. Re-mem-ber?” Joker sang. Hopefully you didn’t catch his genuine stutter.  

You didn’t. “Oh right. Well at least we’re back in Gotham. Haven was irking my nerves.” 

“YuP. Some errr.. trip that was.” Joker noted as his hand hovered over your own. You nodded at his silent request. He began playing with your fingers one after another. You watched him, lost in thought. Neither of you knew how to address the elephant in the room.  

Joker was tracing the lines etched on your palm when he eventually caved in. “Your mom called.” 

“Huh?” 

J picked up the panic laced in your voice, “Calm down Bun. I didn’t talk to her.” 

He launched into the explanation as he mapped out the lines of your hand. “She left a uhh, voicemail. Your dad and uncle were dropped off, safe n sound, along with your cousin— albeit with heh.. bruised egos. See? Perfectly fine! Funny how life workss.” You winced as his long fingernail traced your lifeline.  

Intentional or not, it jogged your memory from last night and made you sigh in relief. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad they’re okay.”  

“You didn’t believe me?”  

You detangled your hand from Joker’s. It’s not that you didn’t believe him— he just made it hard to at the time. You couldn’t ignore what you saw. Joker shot your father and uncle at point blank range.  

You knew the kind of man Joker was. He killed without remorse and did it for fun. If he didn’t physically prove that the bullets were rubber, how were you to trust his word?  

“I.. Yes, I believe you, but please try to see it from my point of view! Y-You scared me last night. I mean, after you shot your own goon in front of me just a few days prior. How am I supposed to know what bullets you used? What if you mixed them up or something. I-I just.”  

You choked on your emotions and began curling in on yourself, if Joker didn’t stop the motion in its tracks. “Oh Bun none of that.” He turned you around to face him.  

You didn’t see him grimace at the fresh tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, but he brushed them away all the same. The gentle care he used made you look up into his troubled green eyes. Since when was Joker the affectionate type? 

“I never want you scared of me, doll. You should’ve never seen that err.. hic-cup at Bicchieri’s. It’s my fault for underestimating that a-nnoooying rat in my organization n' putting—” 

“What rat?” You echoed.  

Joker blinked twice as if he didn’t mean to share that bit of information with you. You saw the wheels turning in his head, desperate to backtrack that statement.  

“Ahh nothing to worry that pretty little head of yours!” He said with a smile but it was too late. His Light was a curious person by nature, and all it took was you stressing his name for him to groan in defeat. “Fiiiiine.”  

Up till now, Joker had done a great job at keeping you in the dark. He kept his lifestyle separate from yours to keep you safe but as of late, someone was making it their personal mission to change that and remove you from the picture. 

Joker remembered how shaken up you were after Two Face shot up your charity gala and then when he later abducted you from your apartment. The former District attorney was tame compared to the more dangerous threat this mole was creating.  

Joker exhausted almost every asset he had to wring out the traitor, all to no avail. Whoever was causing this high security breech was smart and resourceful.  

Joker thought traveling to your hometown would help narrow down his search, but it only led to more questions than answers. Keeping you naïve was no longer possible. He just hoped this latest news didn’t scare you away for good. 

You knew it was serious when Joker used your real name. He instantly had your undivided attention with a single word.  

J sighed, “You remember that manila folder ya found at the beach house?” He knew you remembered when your eyes widened, however your mind drifted to other things.  

“How could I forget?”  

He smiled knowing what you were referring to. The time spent in the Vineyard, (where you earned your namesake) was special to Joker as well. Unfortunately, it was time to hit you with reality.  

“Someone’s been following you, Light.” 

“By the paparazzi? I’m used to that, J.” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood but Joker didn’t join in.  

“No Y/n. Someone with ties to my organization is following you around, makin’ threats, and putting my Light in danger. They tipped Two Face off about your address and they were lurkin’ in the crowd at Euphoria that night you went with your friends.”  

Joker gritted his teeth before resuming, “They tooK photos of you, wayyyy too close for my liking and the message is quite clear. I meanT what I said that day. I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the near future. If I lost you Y/n I...”  

He couldn’t even finish the thought. You were shocked to see Joker get emotional however before you could console him, he snapped right back to normal.  

The drastic change of emotions was disturbing to witness, and Joker noticed how you eyed him warily because of it. “I’m fiiiine, Y/n. Your safety is just so im-port-ant to me, I will literally lose it if you were hurt under my watch.” 

It took one look into Joker’s deranged eyes for you to believe him.  

J’s hands were still shaking as he craned your neck backwards to kiss you. It started out slow and built up to the point of Joker pushing you down on the bed, if not for your phone’s alarm effectively ruining the mood.  

Joker groaned as your hand blindly reached backwards to turn off your phone. J was nice enough to charge it for you when he brought you in from the car and you could see the multiple notifications covering up the screen. You saw dozens of text messages but for now, the most important notif, was your timer going off for therapy.  

You had long since forgotten about it given your stressful trip back home. A part of you didn’t want to go despite it being the right thing to do. You needed help healing from your past to move forward with your future. There was much to discuss if you went, yet you didn’t particularly appreciate Dr. Quinn’s approach to healing. Therapy was a good idea but perhaps the therapist in question was the problem. 

Your thoughts must’ve been visible to your dark clown. Joker read you liken an open book. “Are ya going?”  

“I-I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right about my therapist though it could just be my bias towards doctors.” You huffed. That wasn’t completely true. Sarai was an excellent doctor, and she didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You pouted while mulling it over.  

J hummed on your shoulder. “Want me to handle it?” His offhand comment made you laugh and finally give him the attention he wanted. You swatted at his head and met his mischievous eyes.  

Wait, he was actually serious. 

“Oh my God Joker you can’t keep ‘handling’ every little inconvenience in my life. Leave the poor woman alone. I’ll just call Mama and ask for another recommendation list while she fills me on the drama that you caused. I have no doubt that phone call will take a huge chunk of my day.”  

You heaved out a sigh before falling backwards onto the bed.  

When you opened your eyes, Joker was hovering over you, biting his lip with a sheepish grin. His hair was a bird’s nest framing his face and the color of it caught your attention. You reached up and curled a strand or two around your finger and tugged. “Hey. I thought you weren’t dying your hair anymore around me.”  

What a way to deflect the conversation. Joker let you change the subject (for now) and followed your light tugs in a playful manner.  

“Not so harrrd Bunny! I had ta look my best for a night on the towns! First impressions are everything ya know. What would your folks think if they saw me all natural?”  

He grinned down at your unamused face.  

“Joker. Do you really think my parents cared what color your hair was when you shot someone in front of us at Vincent’s? Did my dad care when you riddled him with rubber last night?” 

When you worded it that way, perhaps he screwed up on the first impressions. He would do better in the future if he ever got the chance to meet them again— under better circumstances of course.  

But back to your question. “Uhhhh.” Joker stuttered.  

“Don’t answer that. What’re you gonna do for the day?” You raked your nails through Joker’s neon green hair. Despite being freshly dyed, it was in a desperate need of a wash, having the texture of wet seaweed. Still, it was therapeutic for both you and J, so you didn’t stop your hand movement.  

Besides, he was practically purring from your ministrations. Your nails felt too good, and he laid down on your stomach slurring his speech.  

“Mmmmm gotta check up on the idiots and let’s see… cause some mischief.” J whined when you stopped playing with his hair. “Ohhh, don’t give me that look, Sugar. I’ll be back before ya know it. Unless.. gasp do you wanna go with me?” 

You rolled your eyes and resumed scratching his scalp.  

There was no way Joker would let you tag along with him especially after he just confessed you had a deranged stalker running around. Joker would be too busy being a menace to society to look after you properly. Even if you wanted some alone time with Joker, work always came first. But before he left...  

“Do you want me to cook you something before you go?” you asked.  

Joker would never turn down your home cooking and as expected, he fell for the trap. 

His stomach cried out before he could. “I’d looooooove that my Light.” He moved up to peck you on the lips. “Can I have French toast with ahhh... extra.. Sugar?” One kiss turned into two then three until you were at his mercy, desperate for more.  

His kisses trailed further and further down your body until you understood J’s intentions. He rubbed his scarred cheek along your hip bone as he pushed the sheets away from your body. 

So this is what he meant by extra sugar. At this rate, Joker wasn’t letting you out of bed. And who were you to deny yourself this pleasure? Soft mornings with Joker were a dime a dozen so you laid back and let him kiss and touch to his heart’s content. 

Breakfast could wait, Joker wanted dessert first.  

An hour later, you turned the stove off and pushed a hot plate of French toast across the kitchen island towards Joker. His eyes were aglow with mischief as you made a show of sprinkling an obscene amount of powdered sugar atop the dish.  

His comical snort was light as you walked past him, grabbing your phone as you went. “I’ll be in the living room.”  

“Thanks for breakfast, Sugar.” He called after you.  

Which one? you almost fired back.  

Only Joker could make such an innocent comment about breakfast be dirty. You kept your flustered smile to yourself while you dialed your mother’s number.  

You needed a clear head for this upcoming conversation.  

As the line rang, you reminded yourself; Act surprised, you don’t know anything that happened back home. It only took four rings until Mama’s worried voice answered and it took longer to reassure her that you were fine. 

“Mama calm down.. I’m okay. I just wanted to go home and—yes ma’am, I’m back in Gotham City. I um..” your eyes darted over to Joker still seated at the island counter.  

He locked eyes with you as he licked syrup off his fork. Your clit jumped remembering when his tongue did that exact same motion to it a few minutes ago. He was doing it on purpose, his smug grin confirmed it. This madman would be the death of you someday.  

You snapped out of your thoughts by your mother calling your name repeatedly.  

“Y-Yes ma’am, I’m still here. I took the subway back. Yes, I know it's not safe that time of night, but Uncle D didn’t quite understand the part where I said I can leave whenever I want. So I did. Mama, will you stop defending him?!” You paused to give her time to fill you in on the events you were already privy to.  

It was time for you to perform.  

“DAD WAS SHOT?!” You screamed. Joker gave you a thumbs up on your ‘totally believable reaction’ and you almost flipped him off as a result. It would be nice if J sat there and ate his food instead of distracting you.  

“Mama, slow down and start from the beginning! They did what now? Are they stupid or is they dumb? They went to meet with who?”  

Joker had long since finished eating his breakfast, but he stuck around to watch you pace the living room while on the phone. You were a great actress, adding in your (fake) reactions and sprinkling the awkward silence with gasps and exaggerated comments to make it sound genuine.  

He couldn’t help but to eavesdrop on your current topic.  

“I’m glad Uncle and Dad got Jr. back from T-The Joker. Yes! I was just as terrified as you were! I mean— The Joker was talking to me. What was I supposed to do? I um.. n-never met him before—just heard about him on the tv and stuff. Yeah, he’s absolutely insane..” You trailed off.  

Your heart was beating wildly as you fiddled with a stem of a potted houseplant. They needed to be watered soon. It was simply a distraction to keep yourself from turning around and seeing Joker’s reaction.  

Hopefully, he understood that you were saying all this to avoid any suspicion from your mother. You hated lying to her and wished she changed the subject but for someone who hated the guy, she could not stop talking about Joker. She mentioned the events that occurred at Vincent’s restaurant again and you mentally groaned the longer she dragged on.  

“Y-Yeah I know. Super scary. I know! I can’t get his laugh out my head either and his eyes..” Hopefully you sounded terrified and not enamored. It was already bad enough that you stuttered saying The before Joker in an effort to make him sound more formal to you.  

You froze when Mom said something bizarre. “They are kinda hot huh?” 

Clearly you heard that wrong since it was the last thing you expected Mom to say, regardless of the reputation the females in your family had with bad boys. It was so far left field, that it caught you off guard.  

You couldn’t blame her though. Joker’s eyes were otherworldly, and he knew that you were obsessed with them. It was just another deadly weapon that he could charm you with.  

You couldn’t help yourself from replying truthfully. “I mean, yeah. They’re so freaking hot. I could stare at them all day.. wait! We shouldn’t be lusting after a known psychopath Ma!” 

Mom’s carefree laugh set your mind at ease. “What’s the harm in a little delusional thinking sweetheart? Sure he’s f__king insane but he’s still hot if you squint hard enough. You think he’s a dom?” 

Why, yes mother. Yes, he is.  

This conversation was embarking into dangerous territory. You had to put an end to it before you said something you couldn’t take back.  

“Okay Mama! We are not going down that road today. Speaking of, um, c-can you send me another therapist recommendation list? The old one you gave me didn’t have any good fits.”  

Thankfully that got her attention off of Joker and just in time too. You could feel his ego getting bigger and bigger from across the room.  

Mom’s loud reply made you hold the phone away from your ear. “YOU’RE GOING TO THERAPY?! Oh, honey that’s wonderful!” She squealed. Getting mental help was always her goal for you, and she was happy that you were finally interested. 

“Um well I went to a few sessions but they didn’t pan out how I’d like them to.” 

Her joy quickly turned into motherly concern. If you were still at home, no doubt she would have you wrapped up in a warm hug. “Really from that list? Huh. Perhaps you could give Dr. Crane a try? I think he’s still practicing.” 

“Dr. Crane? Why does that name sound familiar?” You spun around when you heard Joker drop his plate. It cracked into jagged pieces at his feet, yet he didn’t react. He just stood frozen, staring at the mess.  

You couldn’t risk calling out to him, thus announcing to mom that someone else was with you. She would have a field day and demand to talk to whomever it was. That was a can of worms you did not want to open. But the phone call was still active and she made her presence known again. “Everything alright dear?” Your mom asked over the phone.  

You disregarded J’s odd antics, “Yeah something fell over in the kitchen. Um I’ll check and see if Dr. Crane is in network.” You frowned hearing an incoming call buzzing in. The name made you arch an eyebrow. “Hey Ma, is it okay if I call you back?” 

Not like you actually would, it was simply a Blüdhaven saying to get someone off the phone. Mama recognized it and rushed through her goodbyes. “Alright sweetheart! Me and dad love you!” 

She knew her mistake the moment that word escaped her mouth. There was no way you would say it back. Your reply was curt. “Thanks. You too.”  

Would you ever say I love you again? The probability was unlikely. You ended the call and answered the next one in a sour mood. “Hello?”  

The person on the other end gasped in shock, “Y/n! So you are alive!” 

“Hey Cindy.” 

“Let’s try that again without the attitude. Did someone forget that GothCon is fast approaching, and failed to send over their itinerary for the event?” She heard you groan over the phone. “Mmhm, you really thought I’d forget, Y/n?” 

Her phone call wasn’t a social one. She gave you months to procrastinate but time had run out.  

Cindy’s job was to ensure these public events went smoothly and that her client was doing their part. You threatened to give her grey hairs before thirty.  

 “I have yet to receive anything from you, Y/n. I have no idea what project you’re unveiling if you are presenting anything for that matter!” She said.  

You whined as you wandered over to the sunroom’s large glass doors.  

You had been putting off preparations for GothCon ever since you met Joker. It was the last thing on your mind given the way your life had completely turned upside down. You couldn’t believe it was almost time for the convention and you hadn’t informed your manager of your intentions.  

You could only imagine the catch-up work Cindy was going to dump on you. “I told you months ago to just secure me a forty five-minute main stage slot. I’ll do a big announcement, follow up with the meet-and-greet stuff and my booth appearance.” You whined.  

It was Cindy’s turn to voice her disappointment, albeit more refined than you. You could picture the businesswoman drumming her pristine nails on her desk. Cindy was a chronic perfectionist; surprises were out of the question. She had to know something about your big announcement. 

“That sounds great, Y/n. Your fans will love it. Now, are you announcing the movie deal because Bruce’s legal team sent over the contract ages ago and its sound on our end. I’m just waiting on you to sign off on it. Honestly. Have you checked your email lately? 

No. Your long-forgotten laptop sat closed on your desk for the past few weeks, mocking you. 

Joker dragged you from one drama to the next with little time for reprieve. The last thing on your mind was checking emails or writing despite Joker being the current muse for your WIP. You felt like such a cliché letting a man distract you from work.  

Just because you talked Cindy out of your deadline restriction didn’t mean you could fool around and not work at all. 

You had to write something and you were working on borrowed time. You looked back towards the kitchen and didn’t see J at the counter. If he had plans for the day, so could you. 

“Um. How about I stop by and sign the contract in person? How’s that?” You suggested to Cindy. “We can make a day of catching up! I’ll order lunch and we’ll plan my Con appearance together in great detail and make up for lost time.” 

You knew she wouldn’t pass up a day of productivity.  

“I can agree to these terms. Do you want me to send a car for you?”  

Any other day, you would’ve accepted the offer, that is until you remembered the G wagon that Joker bought you which was parked in the apartment garage. “Actually... no. I’ll drive.” 

Cindy tried to mask her laughter, “Pffft. You? Drive? Y/n, do you even have an ID? You know what? This is Gotham. I’ll see you when you get here.” 

You tried not to take offense to Cindy’s comment.  

You had an ID, you just considered driving as a last resort. Walking and the public subway were all you ever needed growing up. Even now, just thinking about driving was a task you weren’t looking forward to.  

A small part of you wanted to see if Sebastian could chauffeur you to Cindy’s office—yet you didn’t know if J vetted the concierge driver or not. It was better to drive yourself until that got sorted out.  

Thinking about the father of two reminded you to talk to Cindy about securing VIP tickets for Will. You made a promise to the young boy and you wanted to deliver on it. However, before you could do so, you had to get dressed. Cindy would flay you alive if you walked into her office wearing pjs.  

Joker was kind enough to let you wear a shirt of his. The day you planned with Cindy would be productive yet causal and you wanted an outfit that would reflect that. Then you remembered a sweater dress you hadn’t worn yet in the back of your closet. It would fit the crisp Gotham weather just fine while remaining stylish. The better question was if you had the perfect shoes to go with it.  

Joker was stepping out of the bathroom when he saw you speeding down the hall, headed straight into your bedroom. His first thought was grim.  

Running to your sanctuary always spelled bad news. The phone call with your mother must’ve gone south. He had already made plans to visit a few key hideouts around the city and get back on track of his organization. He had no time to stay and worry over you.  

Much to his amusement, you soon ran out of your private bedroom, only to brush past him and enter the guest bedroom without a word.  

Just what was his bunny up to? You looked like a woman on a mission. 

J leaned on the doorframe to watch you fling the closet doors open and frantically begin searching inside. Good thing he wisely moved all of his stashed weapons and illegal goods to a better hiding spot days ago. He wasn’t worried about you finding something dangerous, but he was still rather curious on what you were actually looking for.  

“You uhh need some help, pretty girl?”  

It took you a moment to acknowledge his presence behind you and when you did, your jaw dropped. Sweet Gaia: how did you walk past that? 

Joker was still damp from his shower and the black towel around his hips caught the remaining beads of water that raced down his chest. You watched one in rapt attention disappear past his v lines in slow motion. Another droplet soon entered the race and just like that, you were hypnotized. The wondrous view drew closer and closer as Joker came to a stop in front of you.  

He pushed your jaw closed with his index finger. “Eyes up here Princess.”  

The saucy nickname made you snap out of your daze. You took your time traveling up Joker’s body, drinking up his physique before meeting his gaze. Words escaped you he was so fine. “I um. I was.. I’m..” 

He admired your big eyes looking up at him from the floor. What he would do to have you like this every day, so docile and sweet. It was every man’s dream.  

“Use ya words, Bunny. I bet ya know soooooo many being a err, author n’ all.”  

His thumb reached down to brush against your lips and your lashes fluttered closed at the sensation. Joker was clearly messing with you, yet two could play this game.  

You huffed and turned back around to resume your search.  

“Um if you want to help, I’m looking f-for my snake boots. I want my outfit to pop when I go out today.”  

You made sure to lean forward so Joker could see your back arch just the way he liked. The shirt left little to the imagination and your efforts didn’t go to waste.  

The low growl behind you meant Joker liked what he saw; although, you weren’t expecting him to join you on the floor and begin searching inside the closet. You blinked in shock as he opened a shoe box, grumbled in disappointment when it wasn’t snake print, and toss the box aside before resuming the process again.  

He ruled out four boxes compared to your meager two. You weren’t sure what to make out of it. “J, you don’t have to help. Don’t you have plans today?”  

“And?” He flung a sandal box to the side. He was really invested in this.  

You would never get used to a domesticated version of Joker. The media made him out to be this insane maniac who killed for the fun of it. And while that was true, moments like this were sacred. You were the only person to see Joker in such a way. He looked so normal helping you find a needle in a haystack. Not once did he comment on the hoard of footwear in your spare closet. 

You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice when Joker found the boots you were looking for. 

He read the brand name on the box and opened them just to be on the safe side. They were snake print but he wasn’t certain if they were the right ones you wanted. “Are these the— Y/n? Hey.”  

J snapped his fingers in your face. You jumped but he could tell you weren’t quite all there yet, so he nudged your leg with his foot. “What’s bothering ya Light?”  

Of course Joker would notice something was wrong. He was so perceptive; at times it bordered on being annoying. He would declare your thoughts silly, so you brushed them off.  

“Nothing. Thanks for finding my shoes. Um.. I’m going to Cindy’s office to go over the GothCon details. I-Is that okay?” 

Joker sighed to himself as he set the shoe box down. Just because he told you about your mysterious stalker didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to live your life. You didn’t have to ask for permission to do things. Joker refused to be your ex and trap you into another toxic relationship.  

You looked so shy, staring off to the side and biting your lip. That just wouldn’t do in Joker’s book.  

He knew you weren’t in a right mindset, and he didn’t want to trigger your PTSD with any sudden movements, so he held his hand up for you to see before caressing your face. “You can go annnny-where you want, no need to ask, mkay?” Joker calmly said. ‘I’m not him.’ he mentally added.  

You leaned into J’s calloused palm with a sigh, “If I don’t, then how will my security team know where I’m going?”  

Joker fixed you with a look. Surely you weren’t that daft?  

As if Joker’s security personnel needed to be notified in order to protect you efficiently. They watched over you like a shadow, as if their very life depended on it. Given that Joker was their employer, it probably was. The severity of how much Joker valued your safety hit you full force.  

His eyes in shades of jade and mint, bore into yours right there on the bedroom floor. Joker was doing everything in his power to protect you despite being the source of your troubles. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around why people labelled him a monster.  

Joker was a man with feelings just like the average Joe. He was capable of love and loving hard; a shame you were unable to reciprocate. Joker deserved someone who could match his devotion. He needed someone that wasn’t damaged like you.  

How ironic that Joker was the normal one in this relationship.  

The sudden swirl of negative thoughts made you feel worse than you already were about this torrid affair. Your eyes burned with incoming tears and Joker’s brows furrowed in concern upon seeing them. “Bun?” 

You cleared your throat and grabbed the shoe box off the floor, standing up faster than the Flash.  

The tables had indeed turned; you were now the one looking down at Joker kneeling on the floor. You felt the urge to flee the situation, and you wisely listened to your instincts. 

“I should take a shower and um.. head to Cindy’s office.” Each word was heavy with emotion and Joker was ready to cancel his plans to console his girl. You didn’t give him a chance.  

Joker called out your name but you were already halfway down the hall and the familiar sound of your bedroom door slamming closed echoed throughout the apartment. A sound that Joker dreaded more than anything.  

Joker thought the two of you were past hiding and poor communication, but old habits die hard. You shut Joker out and he had no other choice but to respect your privacy and hope that you emerged from your room in a better mood by the time he came home.  

The black wooden door of your bedroom was the Berlin Wall between you and Joker, and he would do anything to tear it down for the last time.  

Joker sighed in defeat before beginning to dress for the long day ahead. There was much to do and the quicker it was over, the sooner he could return and dote on his Light. 

The long drive to Cindy’s office gave you time to clear your head. You didn’t know what came over you back at the penthouse. Your emotions were all over the place and you didn’t mean to push Joker away like that.  

The morning started out well, amazing even, and you went and screwed it up all over nothing. You wanted to bash your head against the steering wheel for letting your past habits and mannerisms dictate your present love life.  

Just another example of how Joker didn’t deserve someone with your erratic and unhealthy emotions.  

Maybe it was a bad idea to skip therapy today. You clearly had a lot to work on. It was too late for you to try and make it now. You just had to suck up the fact that you were a terrible person and a horrible lover.  

By the time you got dressed and left your bedroom, Joker was long gone.  

You wanted to apologize in person but a well-placed note was left on the foyer table that caught your eye. Joker’s surprisingly legible handwriting was a welcome sight.  

Not mad at ya. 

A comic little bunny was drawn next to his initial and it made you smile just a tad. Joker knew how to lift your spirits, and you left the penthouse in a better mood.  

You pulled up to a red light and glanced through your rearview mirror. The unmarked SUV kept its distance a few cars behind you in traffic. It had been following you ever since you left your apartment garage. Joker’s goons were standing on business when it came to your protection. Not even congestion or other drivers cutting you off stopped them from performing their duty.  

You were a little scared the first ten minutes until they flashed their lights as a sign of peace. Much to your surprise, it was a modified green and purple LED before switching back to the standard white.  

You rolled your eyes at the lengths your lunatic lover would go to ensure your safety. Each sweet gesture made you feel guilty about your attitude towards J earlier and in general. You really had to do better.  

You shook your head as you reached the security gate at your publisher’s office.  

The security guard, TJ, waved at you in greeting and granted you access to the reserved parking area. The SUV following you had seemingly disappeared. You weren’t concerned since you knew they were somewhere lurking in the shadows, watching your every move.  

You turned off the engine and took a minute to collect your thoughts.  

“Clear your head Y/n. Cindy is like a bloodhound. No need to give her ammo.” You whispered to yourself.  

Just like Joker, Cindy would instantly notice something was wrong and pester you relentlessly until you fessed up, and you couldn’t let her find out about J. She’d have the police en route the second you uttered his name.  

Cindy was far too much of an upstanding citizen to even consider your views of Joker. She would question your sanity and label you a Stockholm syndrome victim if given the chance. You had to erase Joker from your mind if you were going to survive today.  

“Nothing is wrong. I am single and nothing is going wrong in my life. Alright, let’s do this.”  

With a confident nod, you stepped out of your vehicle and began walking inside. 

Parked further down the street, a hooded figure watched you disappear inside the building before reporting in. “She’s walking in now.” 

Across town, Joker was outside one of his various Burnley hideouts on a smoke break. Just because he was working did not mean he couldn’t multitask and dote on his Goddess. He expected updates on your safety in real time— now more than ever. He inhaled one last puff from his cigarette before flicking it away. “Good. Stay sharp.” 

It was time for him to head back inside and face his crew.  

Joker hung up and locked eyes with a man who was approaching him in the hall. There were perks of being Joker’s right-hand man. The most important one, Frost could say and do certain things that would normally get others killed. He nodded in greeting before walking alongside his old friend, silently but openly judging. 

There was much to do with the weekend fast approaching— however it was barely lunchtime. Frost wasn’t expecting to see Joker until sundown, if at all today. The fact that Joker was here was enough for Frost to give him the side eye.  

“Hm, I know that look. What’s err.. on ya mind Frosty?” Joker sang.  

“You are. What’re you doing here, Boss?” Frost asked.  

Joker cast a dark glare at his right-hand man. Frost was far too uptight to engage in idle chatter, so J saw right through the question. Not like he would delve in an honest answer. “Awww! Thinkin’ of little ol’ me? I’m uh flattered.”  

What a way to dodge the question. Frost snorted and jabbed the down button on the elevator panel.  

The abandoned warehouse looked decrepit on the outside, but years of money laundering and Mac’s excellent bookkeeping skills allowed the entire interior to be fully renovated. This particular hideout was the second best in the organization and Joker’s personal favorite to date. He was unable to secure his main location in the heart of Amusement Mile from the GCPC since there was still an active manhunt for him.  

They could look all they wanted. Joker was hiding in plain sight, and he had you to thank for such a feat. His Light provided more than shelter; you offered him a home.  

And Frost could see the positive impact that had on Joker.  

A calm aura had settled over the dark clown. Joker was slower to anger, and Frost could see a ghost of a smile peeking through the indifferent mask his boss tended to wear. You were a blessing for Joker and his volatile temperament.  

Showing up at the hideout during its current crisis would ruin your months of arduous work in seconds. It was in Frost’s (and everyone’s) best interest to ward Joker away. Going about it would prove to be difficult.  

The two men boarded the elevator, and Frost spoke up as the doors closed. “If I were you, I’d be spending the day with B, not cooped up underground, stirring up trouble.” 

“Watch it Frost.” J said in warning despite it being empty. Frost knew how far he could push J’s buttons so he went a bit further.  

“Just sayin’ boss. Today’s a good day to make up for a date that someone promised a certain someone. Something about a ‘night she’ll never forget?’ Some lie that turned out to be.” 

Quick thinking on Frost’s part prevented him from being punched in the face and Joker barely felt the white-hot pain of his fist hitting the metal walls. He was more upset that he missed than his busted knuckles.  

“I. Got. The. Message.” Joker growled.  

The elevator was a small space, yet Frost managed to create enough distance long enough for the doors to ding open and escape unharmed. He was wise to leave while he was still alive, yet he still had much to say. “I bet you do J. Mac’s in his office.” He said over his shoulder.  

Joker gave him a deadpan ‘so?’ look.  

Honestly, Frost did not get paid enough for this. Did he have to spell it out for the man? Apparently so. Frost sighed and did just that.  

“The master planner and the finance guy should be able to come up with something memorable for Y/n. She more than deserves it after everything you’ve done.”  

Frost sent his boss a knowing glare before he disappeared down the hall. Joker was left standing in the elevator, lost in the sea of his own thoughts.  

What if you found out about all the horrors that he’d done? Would you still love him? Was it all worth it in the end if you left him? Joker’s hands shook as he considered the unthinkable and his eyes quickly scanned the area to check if he was alone.  

No one could see him in a rare moment of weakness as he battled his inner demons.  

He mashed the button to close the elevator doors and struggled to catch his breath. Joker was smart. When he wanted something to disappear; it did. He covered his tracks and then burned all evidence to it. He shouldn’t have to worry about the what ifs, yet they suddenly hit him full force.  

In an ideal world, you would never find out what Joker did, nor would you accuse him if his misdeeds ever saw the light of day. There was nothing to panic about. He was just overreacting!  

God, he hoped he was just overreacting.... 

Joker nodded to himself, wiped the blood from his knuckles, and exited the elevator.  

Following Frost’s advice, Joker schooled his features and approached Mac’s humble office. Joker didn’t need to knock; he was the boss after all, yet he wasn’t expecting his bookkeeper to be preoccupied upon entry.  

J arched an eyebrow at the blissfully unaware blond twirling around like a schoolboy in his office chair.  

“Nah baby, you got enough flowers. Why don’t I pull up later and give you something we both know you want?” Mac smiled into his phone and was mid spin when he noticed his boss standing in the doorway. The sight could make anyone have a heart attack and Mac was no different. “Oh shhhh.. I’ll call you back!”  

Hopefully Morgana would forgive him for hanging up so abruptly. Right now, he needed to save face in front of his employer and avoid a premature death.  

Mac sat up and scrambled to look the poised, savvy businessman he was. His awkward wave was the icing on the failure cake. “Sup Boss.”  

Joker could care less. Morgana was an uncertain piece to Joker’s current dilemma. He expected Mac to hit it off with the florist after being assigned to shadow her. He didn’t trust her just yet and he wasn’t dumb enough to let her roam Gotham City freely after discovering you were dating The Joker.  

J was wise enough to manipulate his men into watching your friends on his behalf. The same precautions were enforced for Florence by Neo and Joker hoped that Mac didn’t repeat history.  

You would undoubtedly notice if Morgana went missing and with it, Joker’s credibility would shatter. He could not lose his Light. End of discussion.  

For now, J would have to starve off his need to cut loose ends.  

Your friend was safe until proven a threat and judging by Mac’s romantic pursuit, she wouldn’t be.  

He just hated playing nice with others. It was still a new concept to him. “Oh, do call her back, I insist.” J cooed. Today was a good day to start practicing.  

Mac was justified in being cautious. The eerie smile on Joker’s face put him on edge. “You— you want me to call Morgana back? Uhh why?”  

Blue eyes watched as Joker plopped down in the nearby chair and started fiddling with the various objects on the desk. Mac knew that Joker was stalling, it was his favorite scare tactic. When J picked up a costly paperweight, Mac had to interrupt.  

“Sir. Is there a reason, or do you simply wish to harass the poor woman further? I told you; Morgana will keep her mouth shut. She’s too loyal to Y/n.”  

“What’s loyalty hm? Soo~ooo easily bro-K-en.” Joker mumbled.  

He broke the trinket to prove a point and failed numerous times to place it back on the desk the way it was before. Mac had no other choice but to sigh in resignation watching his loony boss make things worse. That was a collector’s item reduced to scrap pieces.  

J knew firsthand how infatuation could blind people to the truth.  

Loyalty could be bought and sold as quickly as the wind changed direction. Soon he would put Morgana to the ultimate test but today, his request would be tame.  

If only lover boy would follow instructions.  

Joker finally got the broken pieces to stay still long enough to look intact. It fell apart a second later. Neither Joker nor Mac cared at this point. “Call. Her. Back.” Joker demanded.  

The room was silent as the two men engaged in a staring contest yet early on, it was clear who would win. Mac caved when the venomous green became too much to bear. He dialed Morgana back and put the phone on speaker— while silently praying the call didn’t turn sour.  

Just as he expected, she was not happy.  

“You got some nerve pretty boy calling back after that lil stunt! You can go ahead and kiss your rights to this pussy goodbye. Are you always this arrogant or is it generic with you snobby socialites? Hello? Oh, so now you don’t wanna speak? That’s fine.”  

Both men could hear her crudely cutting something in the background, most likely with her garden shears, and it didn’t sound pretty. Mac looked distressed the longer Morgana continued her one-sided rant. 

She added insults far more creative than Joker could ever imagine and he decided to intervene to save Mac’s ego.  

He started by clearing his throat, “Hi…..” There was a brief pause before Morgana groaned into the mic.  

“Oh. It’s you. Please don’t tell me you killed Mac and taken his phone? I can’t get a refund on our dinner reservations if he’s a no-show. Matter of fact... do you like Peruvian?”  

It was no wonder why you liked Morgana so much. She was so unbothered and detached from drama compared to your other friends.  

She boldly talked to the Clown Prince of Crime like it was an average day for her. Joker could get used to her sense of humor if he tried. Then he reminded himself that trying was his only option.  

“He’s fiiiiiine errr.. more or less. That’s noT why I called. Ya see, I need a favor and you’re just the girl to help.” He was offended by her automatically disagreeing.  

“I’m not Poison Ivy. If you don’t require my legal business or any help with Y/n, you got the wrong girl.” 

Joker licked his teeth, mulling over her audacity.  

Morgana was acting cheeky as if he wouldn’t harm her. It would not be a hassle to make the short journey to her storefront and teach her how people should talk to The Joker.  

Mac must’ve seen the idea forming in his boss’ mind, for he leaned over the desk and re-entered the conversation.  

“Hey baby. I never took you as someone to turn down a potential business deal. Just hear him out.” 

Morgana sighed knowing that Mac knew something she didn’t. To save her hide, she changed her tune.  

She put down her shears and retreated into her backroom, far away from any customer’s earshot. “Fine, what business does a known psychopathic murderer want with my humble flower shop?” 

Joker snorted. Morgana’s shops were anything but humble. Lavish maybe.  

She had a partnership with EverFresh, (a mega supermarket) for Pete's sake, but he wasn’t going to argue. All that was on Joker’s mind was the night he wished to create for his Light and he would do anything necessary to make it happen since he failed twice now to deliver.  

It would be easier to demand and steal to get his way, but his Light would frown upon that. Joker would have to do this the hard way and unfortunately, that would take some time. 

“I would uh li-Ke....” J glanced at Mac for guidance and the blond quickly wrote on a legal pad for his boss to read. “I would like to.. order a custom floral arrangement.” J read back robotically.  

Mac didn’t know if the delivery would be enough to sway the florist. Joker clearly didn’t make it sound believable.  

Tense seconds passed where both men waited for Morgana’s response, and it came in the form of her laughter. “Now you’re speaking my language!”  

You stepped off the elevator and was promptly greeted by a new secretary seated at the front desk.  

Someone higher up must’ve let her know who you were since she didn’t stop you and ask for credentials. You were free to walk in as if you owned the place. In a way, you did.  

You were the most successful author signed within the publishing house. None of the other contracted authors were killing the game like you. You were Cindy’s pride and joy, and she made that wildly known within the firm. 

You kept your eyes straight on the path to her frosted monogrammed doors. 

People roamed about the large office space, working and mingling, yet it was all background noise to you. The goal was to avoid any interaction and especially with Cindy’s brash and all-around creepy business partner, Thomas Ford.  

He was bound to be lurking around this time of day.  

All these years and he still did not get the hint that you weren’t interested. You thought Bruce’s brief relationship of sorts with you would end any future encounters, but alas, nothing would deter this guy.  

The second you tip-toed pass Thomas' door; it opened in earnest. “Y/n! Long time to see!”  

His booming voice must be the source of many headaches around the firm. Nevertheless, you were taught manners and (regrettably) stopped in your tracks to reply. You turned with a tight smile masking your displeasure. “Mr. Ford..” You said curtly.  

Despite being notorious for eloquent word play, your brain conveniently decided to short circuit now of all times. Words failed you, as if Thomas noticed or cared. He simply stepped outside his door, leaning on the frame. 

“Now Y/n, we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me Thomas, unless you have a thing for titles then I totally understand.” He blocked the way to Cindy’s office and sent you a sly wink.  

Was that supposed to flatter you? 

If he didn’t reek of sexual harassment, you would have a better opinion of the man. He was decent looking, like any corporate male in a suit and tie would be you supposed. Joker had truly corrupted your view of the average male. Normal just didn’t cut it anymore. 

In any case, you were tired of men not knowing how to accept rejection, especially Thomas. “Riiiight. Um if you would excuse me, I have a meeting with Cindy.” 

“I’m afraid she stepped out.” 

The sentence made you stumble a bit in your heels. Surely you heard him incorrectly, but he looked rather confident while watching your clumsy reaction unfold. 

You blinked a mile a minute trying to reboot your system and as a result, your Blüdhaven accent slipped out a bit. “Whatchu mean she ‘stepped out’? I just hit her up this morning!” 

Thomas was taken aback hearing the sudden dialect, but he replied after a brief pause. “Cindy left over an hour ago. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here with me. If you want, we can catch a lunch together.” He stopped to leer at your body, “Or dessert.” 

Ew. “No thank you.” You said bitterly. You did not need this buffoonery this early in the day.  

You walked off and continued your journey, halfheartedly greeting others on your way to Cindy’s office when you couldn’t ignore them outright. Things seemed normal until you pushed the glass doors open and realized that the room was empty. She really wasn’t here.  

It didn’t make any sense to you. Cindy never left her office unless lunch wasn’t available for delivery and a runner was unable to pick it up. You jokingly scolded her once for not evacuating during a fire alarm so the notion that she just ‘up and left’ wasn’t clicking in your mind.  

Something wasn’t right here. You were about to dial her number when Thomas startled you from behind.  

“Is there something wrong, Y/n?”  

You yelped and faced the imposing male smiling down at you.  

You were used to his creepy behavior but today it was freaking you out even more. You weren’t expecting him to follow you in here and why didn’t you hear the door closing?  

You backed away, instinctively drifting towards the exit. “N-No, I’m just.. I’m calling Cindy.” 

“Why?”  

You fixed him with a sour glare, “Because! I don’t believe you and c-can you... please back up?” He ignored your request and rounded the decorative glass table holding published books to get closer to you. “Why? Does my presence bother you that much honeydew?” Thomas laughed.  

You froze in fear upon hearing the familiar nickname and your phone slipped from your hand, falling onto the floor.  

Thomas watched it fall and was about to tease you further for being a klutz when the office doors opened.  

Cindy walked in and immediately her eyes landed on her business partner. “What the…? Why are you in my office Ford?” She tossed her purse down and marched her way over.  

A few seconds passed before she noticed you kneeling on the floor with your hands covering your ears. “Oh my god, Y/n? Are you alright!?” She reached your side and looked you over. You were breathing erratically, shaking your head.  

When she received no response, she unleashed her ire. Her target was the man looking rather innocent while you slipped into a panic attack. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” She demanded.  

Thomas had the audacity to look offended. “Me? I didn’t do anything! I was just talking—” 

“F__k that. GET OUT. I’ll deal with you later.” She doted on you and gently smoothed your hair down but looked up when she didn’t hear Thomas leaving. He was still standing there watching you freak out.  

“Are you deaf? Get out or do I need to call security to help you?” Her threat pumped enough wind in his sails and she watched him go with narrowed eyes. Hearing your pitiful whimper redirected her focus back to you. “Hey. Y/n it's okay, he’s gone.” 

She waved her assistant away when they tried to walk in. Cindy didn’t want to anyone to see you in such a vulnerable state. She was completely out of her depth on how to handle this and needed reinforcements. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” 

You almost responded yes, but how would you explain that you wanted Cindy to call The Joker of all people to come to your rescue?  

He was the only person you wanted right now but his mere presence would only create more problems, so you shook your head in the negative.  

You knew you were scaring Cindy with your unusual behavior. She was used to your mellow and socially awkward nature whenever you visited the office but never this.  

You came here to work on finalizing your GothCon appearance not to have another mental breakdown in your manager’s office.  

These episodes were becoming increasingly more frequent, and you hated feeling powerless to stop them. Something had to change. You couldn’t let dark memories and harmless words keep triggering you like this.  

You had to take the initiative, starting now.  

You took a deep breath and started slapping your face to regain control of yourself. Cindy jumped, watching the assault take place. “Uh? Y/n?”  

“What? No, I-I'm fine.” You flinched away feeling her hand unexpectedly land on your arm. She noticed and let it drop just as quickly as she offered it.  

An awkward silence enveloped the room, and Cindy was the brave person to cut the tension. She didn’t know how to address this but pressed on anyhow. 

“Y/n? Did he?” She paused, not liking how you visibly bristled. “Did Thomas hurt you?” 

What a loaded question. Would she even do anything if you told her that Thomas, her business partner for years, was an overall creep and constantly harassed you?  

Cindy might be a close friend, but she was a businesswoman first, stuck in a man’s world.  

Men like Thomas were never the problem, instead it was the female who complained that received backlash. He would laugh off your accusations, calling it harmless banter and the trouble that went to speaking up, would only come back to haunt you. There would be awkward tension between you and Cindy and the executives of the publishing house—that Thomas was conveniently a member of.  

Ford took you as the type of male to abuse his power and you read many a tale about how the victims were scorned by powerful men. He would make your life miserable for daring to speak the truth.  

You refused to let Thomas ruin your career and life all because of a few ‘harmless comments.’  

You knew the system well enough to know unless things became physical, (with proper evidence) complaining would do nothing.  

With that mindset you were resigned to keep quiet but not for long. You had a special card up your sleeve.  

Cindy called your name and repeated her question on the off chance that you might’ve not heard it.  

Instead of answering, you brushed imaginary dust from your sweater dress and rose from the floor. “Anyhoo, I was thinking, a big movie announcement followed by a controlled Q&A slot. Maybe five to ten minutes and then round out the allotted presentation time with a new book teaser.” 

You made yourself comfortable on her meeting couch and continued to brainstorm aloud only to be interrupted. 

“Y/n.. I asked you a question.” Cindy was flabbergasted at how you easily brushed off her concern. In her eyes, your flippant attitude raised major red flags and after your visit, she would be investigating her business partner thoroughly to get some answers.  

Right now, she was worried about you. It wasn’t like you to dismiss things so casually. Although you made your intentions clear with a fixed glare.  

“Cindy... I am here to sign contracts and finalize the convention details. I do not have enough spoons left for anything else.”  

Your voice cracked about halfway through, and you could tell when Cindy understood just how close you were to walking out.  

You wanted her to stick to the script. As your manager she could play along and act professional—but Cindy considered herself your friend. She could tell this was seriously bothering you more than it should.  

It pained her to ignore the elephant in the room but if this was your way of coping, so be it.  

Cindy cleared her throat and went to grab her tablet from off her desk before joining you back on the couch, sitting across from you. “Right. Um... New book teaser! Let’s talk about that.” 

You were grateful for the change of subject and relaxed into your role as her client. Sure enough, as the hour passed, things settled into a good rhythm although Cindy still kept a weary eye on you.  

Lunch and mindless paperwork out of the way, she opened her arms for a goodbye hug, only for you to shy away and scramble out her office without a word.  

Cindy tried not to be offended; you were always weird about physical contact. She just thought today would be different. You looked like you needed a shoulder to lean on.  

Nevertheless, Cindy waited a few minutes for you to leave the building before she made a phone call. It rang for a bit until a cheery voice answered.  

Cindy didn’t waste anytime getting to the point. “Hey Barb. Something is wrong with Y/n. Fill me in on what you know.”  

[shy-taylorsversion]

Savior Complex - Chapter One

(Photos do not reflect the reader's appearance and are just for vibes)

Pairing(s) - Negan Smith x Reader, Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapter Summary - Reader wakes up in the hands of the Saviors, still reeling from previous events.

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - Events of the lineup, mentions of violence and injuries, canon typical violence, explicit language, disassociation

A/N - Story is actually starting now, really hope y'all like it :) Also my formatting on here is terrible so i apologize if it looks wonky.

There was blood in her eyes.

It stuck to her face in half-crusted streaks. Small beads trickled down into her eyes, stinging and causing them to fill with moisture.

From pain or reflex, she wasn’t sure.

There was a distant thought that she was injured. She reached up to her temple and wasn’t surprised when it was wet and sticky, covered in crimson.

A small gash from what she could make out, if it was hurting she couldn’t tell.  A throbbing sensation from the back of her head caught her attention, she reached around to feel and winced. It was soaked, more blood.  Congelaed and sticking to her hair and neck.  She wiped her fingers on her jeans though the blood clung to the creases of her skin.

<p>   She was in a weird limbo between the solid world and something more, an in-between of corporal and spirit.   Floating in a way that made her cold, and body numb, like a limb that had fallen asleep. </p>

The memories of the night. She thinks it was night, it had been dark but maybe it had been early morning. The memories, they came in flashes and outbursts of disjointed violence and wretching screams.

  Leather, blood, a baseball bat, and more blood.  Glenn’s face, Maggie’s sobs. Flashes of red, hair this time. Immediately there was more blood. Headlights in the darkness, specs of dust floating around them.

Them.

Their faces were there, some of them. She’d only seen a few before the darkness came.

Rick, she was next to him. And Carl, oh Carl.

Daryl, she’d seen him. Her eyes found him in the midst of it all, she’d seen it for the first time in a while but it was there. 

Defeat. Fear.

It had laced its way over his face and seeped into her even across the lineup of horrified and grim figures. She’d wanted him to look at her, needed to know they’d figure it out and it’d all be okay but he never did.

Then the man was there, talking and laughing. He made jokes, vulgar and revolting.

The man with the bat. His name felt important, like she’d already said it, heard it a million times. But it wasn’t there, it was just his face.  Those dark eyes, that cruel smile, and even crueler words.

He kept talking through the whole thing, every swing of the bat was followed with a remark. He’d made a show of it, killing her friends, raining torment down on everyone she loved.

Abraham, Glenn

There was a detached sort of surrealism to realizing they were dead.

Silent tears streamed down her face the first time, screamed and kicked and fought before the next because Daryl had lunged himself toward the man who’d just killed Abraham. Then he was hauled back, and grabbed by men she didn’t know the names of either, and the man was yelling, a cold humor in his voice. 

  She’d moved without her own accord, leapt to her feet the second their hands had touched him.  Yelled for them to stop, to not touch him, let him go.

There was no plan in her mind, didn’t think about how she couldn’t physically overpower them. She couldn’t stay kneeling in the dirt, she couldn’t let them hurt him.

The man cackled then, said something about the show they were putting on for him but how much more difficult it’d all be now. 

She’d known she’d fucked up the second she’d moved, broken the rules he’d stated in the beginning. It hadn’t sunk in how grave of a fuck up she’d made until he’d slammed the bat onto Glenn’s head.

Everything after that was a blur, shouting and pulling. Someone grabbed her that time, held her there while the man finished his macabre performance and then there was a slam against her, pain radiating through her skull, someone yelled, and then the darkness came.

The first inkling of feeling came then, not from the pain or fear but at the memory of Glenn and his final promise to Maggie. Guilt curled itself deep and heavy into her stomach, burrowed and made itself home there and somehow left her even colder than before. Glenn was dead, and Maggie probably was too, their baby.

It had been her fault, she shouldn’t have moved. She’d killed them.

She shivered in the dark, held back the tears that formed.

<p>   She needed to focus. She inhaled and let it out, she couldn’t do this right now. She could break down when she got home, could cry and scream until that pit in her stomach had unraveled some. But not until she knew the rest of them were alive. </p>

  She was in the backseat of a truck, hands and feet unbound. She caught the reflection in the window, a blonde woman sat next to her with a gun in her hand. It wasn’t pointed in her direction but the threat was there, make one wrong move.

She didn’t know where they were, endless stretches of road and blurs of trees passed by them, and a wave of nausea fell over her.

A heavy fog settled over her mind, like the fog a few mornings ago before dawn when she watched as Daryl walked back through the gate.

Daryl.

He’d been next to her at the end when they’d held them both back. She hadn’t seen where they’d taken him, it happened too fast.

Somehow it was a fast-forwarded slow-motion, not happening in real-time. The whole night seemed to exist on a different plane. 

  Part of her wanted to believe she’d wake up soon, at home and in bed. The scent of tobacco floating throughout the room and a presence next to her, warm and inviting.

But she knew this was real.

The more time she spent thinking, piecing the events together the more evident it became. 

Her already fucked up life became more fucked up the second they were cornered and forced to their knees. 

Though how she was still alive? That was less obvious.

“Daryl?” Her throat was dry, voice croaking with the word. She didn’t look at anyone as she asked, letting herself focus on the fibers peeling up from the truck’s seat. “Where is he?”

No one responded at first. The men in the front didn’t acknowledge her presence, too entranced in their conversation to notice. The woman next to her shifted, clenched the gun tighter but turned her head.

“In the other truck.” It was short and to the point. She sounded stiff, almost annoyed.

Panic was steadily rising, building in her chest the more she took in her surroundings. The roads were unidentifiable, it was daylight but trees always looked like trees, no matter where they were. She was unarmed and injured, her head throbbed at the reminder.

 The world was swimming around her, the nausea never subsided. The sunbeams sent an ache through her, making her squint.  Her body was giving out by the second, consciousness slipping from her grasp.  Head hitting the cool glass of the window, she let her eyes slip shut.

She grabbed onto the last semblance of awareness and asked her final question.

“Is he alive?”

The woman responded, a smile laced through her voice.

  “For now.”

She nodded to herself.

She could work with that.

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 9

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: a little bit of angst and self-doubt, a little bit of backstory, self-serving pretty flowery apologies, and i made the boys kiss again

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.7K

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He’s about ready to own up to it when Autumn walks in, admit what he’s done and face the consequences. He’s pissed her off before and survived — he doesn’t doubt he can do it again.

She sidles up beside him at the register and he’s going to tell on himself when she says something that makes his eyes widen. “Nick texted you?”

His mind reels, wondering how she knows. When he glances over, he’s expecting anger in her expression, or at the very least annoyance. Instead he finds her smiling at him, expression soft.

“How did you know?” he inquires, wracking his brain for an explanation but coming up with nothing. His stomach turns when he envisions Autumn pounding on the door of Nick’s house, or barging into the bar, berating a stranger for something that shouldn’t be her problem. Autumn, as always, coming to his rescue when he can’t do it himself.

He feels sick.

“Do you remember my friend Jasmine?” Autumn offers, and there’s a beat when he questions the relevance of the question. He remembers her vaguely — she and Autumn were friends while Noah was living in Baltimore, a coworker from the university. They’d met once, when Noah came home for the weekend, but he didn’t stick around. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. He was happy that she had someone like Jasmine to fill the void he’d left when he vanished.

He distantly wonders why they don’t see each other anymore before his heart drops, remembering what happened to her. He sees her face, his mind traveling to the photo on the end table in Nick’s living room. Her pretty dark hair, her kind smile.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t connect it, and he feels painfully foolish. Not knowing what else to say, he nods.

“He’s a good guy, Noah,” Autumn utters, a sigh on the edge of her voice as if she hates to admit it. He knows that she’s right, and just recently he would have done anything for her to think so, but right now it makes him feel like he’s out of people on his side. He still needs her on his side. “He’s been through a hell of a lot, but he wants to fix this.”

He imagines how the conversation might go tonight. His mind conjures the image of an apology, at Autumn’s instruction, but yet another letdown. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t wanted him, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Already, he’s itching to disappear again. Asheville might be nice this time.

It already took everything in him to come back here. It took even more out of him to open his heart again, and he really thought he’d picked the right one this time — it felt right, didn’t it?

His mind shifts suddenly back to the last time something felt right, the overwhelming joy he’d felt, and rapidly to the look on Aiden’s face when Noah had the nerve to ask if he wanted to get married, to the bellowing laughter and the pity painted across his face that read oh, you poor thing. When he got home from work the next day, half of the apartment was emptied out. He didn’t see him again, but every inch of Richmond stunk of the 3 years of memories they made together.

He knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows how hard it is to come back. It isn’t the same, but he knows how it feels for your life to stop dead in its tracks.

It’s a little past 8 already, anxiety bubbling up in his gut as he’s pacing back and forth across his living room. There’s a part of him hoping that Nick doesn’t show, leaving Noah to fill in the blanks on his own, fizzling out slowly and painfully but without a direct and detailed hit to his ego.

Autumn and the guys have gone out to give them privacy, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment after Nick shatters him all over again makes his chest ache. He doesn’t want them to be here to watch it happen, but he still wishes they’d stayed. He can’t be by himself.

His spiral is interrupted by three knocks in quick succession.

He’s nauseated, shaking with nerves, but he can’t deny that he misses Nick. He misses his face, his voice, the way his lips spread into a smile seemingly against his will. At least he’ll get to see him one last time before he disappears from Noah’s life for good, another black mark on his romantic history.

When he swings the door open with shaking hands, he finds himself unprepared for what he sees on the other side. Nick, looking more timid than Noah’s ever seen him, with a hastily put together bouquet of flowers and the most hopeful expression in his eyes.

It’s not at all what he expected.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, I—” Nick starts, unsteady on his feet and jittery. Noah won’t let himself get his hopes up, but the urge to reach out and touch him is almost unbearable. This was a terrible idea. “I didn’t ask Aut what flowers you like, so…I hope you like hydrangeas.”

He envisions Nick at the shop, agonizing over which flowers to choose to let Noah down easy. He imagines him speaking with a kind stranger who passes by behind him, asking for advice, hurriedly placing together blue hydrangeas, baby’s breath, eucalyptus leaves, and hoping for the best as he rushes out. It’s a lot of effort to put into a heartbreak.

And Noah does love hydrangeas. An awfully pretty flower to sit in a vase on his coffee table to taunt him as he agonizes through his loss.

He guides Nick inside and tries not to let his mind drift backwards to their last encounter on this couch. It’s a struggle every time he’s in this room, not letting himself relive every moment, the floating feeling to the sinking, empty nothing.

They should have done this somewhere else. He’s not looking forward to adding another painful memory to the living room’s history, especially if he wants to stick around after this one.

Each second Nick spends fiddling with his hands instead of making eye contact and getting on with it drags. The bouquet sits sadly on the coffee table and he wonders if he should busy himself with putting them in a vase with water, a distraction from the impending whatever, but he doesn’t want to waste the water. He should probably throw them out.

“You can rip the band-aid off, Nick,” Noah starts, and he isn’t expecting the surprised and hurt expression that casts itself across Nick’s face. His eyes get so sad, concern obvious, and it’s only then that Noah wonders if this might be a different kind of visit altogether. Even through the overwhelming feeling of dread, he feels awfully soft for him. “It’s okay, Nicky, I’m listening.”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that you weren’t making me happy,” Nick starts, and Noah feels as the weight begins to lift off his shoulders, as the tightness in his chest loosens. Nick takes a few deep breaths, a sort of shaky breathing that Noah recognizes. He doesn’t want to let himself have hope, but he watches as the nerves he recognizes in Nick take a different shape than he’d expected. “I haven’t been that happy in a long time, Noah, and I didn’t think it was something that I deserved. It scared the shit out of me.”

It’s against Noah’s own will when the tears start falling. There’s a tiny but clawing part of him that still thinks this is bad—that these flowery, pretty apologies are just an elaborate setup for a letdown that makes Nick look good at the end of it all. When Nick reaches out to place a shaky hand hesitantly on Noah’s knee, still speaking but Noah can’t make out a single thing through all the whooshing in his ears, Noah feels hope for the first time. He forces himself to focus.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” Noah says, and the smile Noah loves shows itself for the first time this visit—a wide grin spreading across Nick’s face although his nerves are still so blatant. Nick reaches out to touch Noah’s face, and he almost wants to shy away but doesn’t. He lets Nick trace a thumb over his cheek, wipe away his tears, just in case this is the last time he can have this.

“I know I still have a lot to do to make it up to you, but you deserve to be really happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy,” Nick says, and there’s such sincerity in his tone that it’s unmistakable. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, too, and Noah knows he means it. “If you’ll let me give it a try. I may not be any good.”

It’s something they’ll have to talk about further. They’ll have to spend a lot of time working through it, and Noah will have to give him a lot of shit, but his focus narrows in on one thing. And that’s having him.

He scoots himself closer to Nick, watches him relax as Noah places a hand on his cheek. 

“I would never ask you to unlove her,” Noah says, to which Nick is quick to nod. “Just talk to me. Make a little room for me.”

“I promise I will,” Nick responds, placing a hand over Noah’s on his cheek and the poor thing is still shaking. Noah hasn’t felt so steady in a long time.

He pours his heart into the kiss they share, finding himself praying that they can keep this. That for once, he can get what he wants. He feels that hope grow just that little bit bigger when Nick’s lips move to his cheek, a sigh of relief pressed into the skin of Noah’s face.

“No boy has ever bought me flowers before,” Noah whispers, feeling Nick’s grin spread once more, pulling Noah ever closer.

tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski . @baddestomens . @itsafullmoon . @collapsedglasshouses

[wildlife4life]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the always lovely and amazing, @spotsandsocks @malewifediaz @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @wikiangela @daffi-990 @elvensorceress and @bigfootsmom Thank you all so much and I'm super excited for all your upcoming works!

Last night ya'll... I'm still reeling and pinching myself because the whole Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce lyric change and kiss! OMG! So in honor of my favorite player basically winning on his bye week, I have unpaused from NFL Buck and bring you this.

Buck's first in season game back from his leg injury had every nay sayer and Watson advocator go silent. 432 passing yards, 45 rushing, 4 touchdowns, and a solid 32-10 win over Aaron Rodger's Green Bay Packers. Astonishing. A fairy tail ending from a horrible beginning. It took every fiber of Eddie's learned military patience and control to hold himself back from running down to the field and personally congratulate Evan. "Squeeze him extra tight for me." He told Maddie, before she stepped off the elevator towards the family waiting area. Eddie adjusted his grip on a sleepy Christopher and watch his reflection slide in with the closing doors. "He won daddy. With his bad leg." Christopher murmured in his shoulder. "I knew he would." The smile that had fallen earlier at the reminder of Eddie and Evan's closeted situation, returned hearing his son's bright optimism. "Never a doubt mijo." Later, in the privacy of their own home, Eddie stared up at the red door canvas photo that gave them their beginning. 'Just walk in.' A motto Buck took to heart during his recovery. Just walk into the doctor's office, you won't know what the prognosis is until you do. Just walk into physical therapy, even if you think there is no point. Just walk into team locker room, you and the team need you in there. Just walk into the stadium, show them all Evan Buckley is the starting quarterback. Just walk in the front door and kiss the man you keep hidden, but loves you so much that he values the reasons to stay hidden. Just walk in. And Evan continues to do so. He walks in their front door. Eddie turns to him, steps forward, throws his arms around those broad shoulders, and kisses him like he wanted at the stadium. All consuming, filled with love, and oh so damn proud.

Hehehehehehehe. YES I am giddy through and through, and I hope you all enjoyed! All things NFL Buck can be found here.

Tagging (no pressure): @bekkachaos @watchyourbuck @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @ladydorian05 @devirnis @eddiebabygirldiaz @loserdiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @lizzybizzyzzz @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @spagheddiediaz @try-set-me-on-fire @shortsighted-owl @monsterrae1 @lover-of-mine @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc @911-on-abc @cowboydiazes @hoodie-buck @vampbuckley @brokenribsdiaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz