#the editing in this is shit but i had to get it out

[rosieparker1856]

This has been spoken so many times, but it has never felt so true as this. You’ve encompassed the feeling so wholly! Thank you for understanding!

Do you ever start writing something that you’re excited about and that seems like it’s turning out well and that you’re getting eager to share, and then you start typing it up or doing an edit pass and it’s just awful it’s awful its premise is fundamentally flawed and it’s out of character and the prose is clunky and the plot is badly paced and ludicrous and the whole thing is embarrassing, how could you have done this, how could you have sunk so much time into this, you can’t even look at it, how is this that shining thing you were so excited about, how could you even have considered finishing it let alone sharing it with anyone, you’re crying, your mother is crying, nuns are spontaneously exploding in the streets,

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”

[practicalgauntlet]

τότε μείνε μαζί μου

"Then stay with me."

Spencer's POV

Synopsis- They say there are 5 stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Well, I'd like to add one more- Revenge.

Category- Heavy angst, retribution

Warnings- feral Spencer, angry Spencer, grieving Spencer, beating someone half to death, blood and gore, thoughts of violence, actual violence, Spencer goes ape shit the way Hotch beat Foyet. Vivid details of someone's nose breaking, blood, lots and lots of blood, OOC, I paint a very graphic image of Spencer's snap.

Notes- I love writing angst, I don't know why I just hope you enjoy it. And I'll make good on my promise for something tooth-rottingly sweet, so don't get too angry with me <3 This goes out to @slipk-holy for helping me edit, you're the best!!!

Wordcount- 3,123

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Spencer sits in the middle of his apartment, his last words to your lifeless body still echoing throughout his otherwise empty mind.

"I'll wait for you my darling, you better be waiting for me on the other side."

Spencer was not a religious man. But when it came to you, he believed in miracles. He believed that someone out there plucked you from your divine path and placed you in his life. Spencer prayed to whoever had put you in his life to return you. He pleaded to hold you in his arms once more, but there was no answer.

He never believed in the afterlife. He thought of it as nothingness, a lack of consciousness where one ceases to exist on any plane. The idea of holding you, of seeing you once more clung to the fibers of his mind. It kept him from breaking entirely.

So maybe Spencer was a man of religion if only it meant you awaited him with open arms.

He hadn't moved in such a long time, his back aching from the upright and cross-legged position on his hardwood floors. Spencer lacked the motivation to crawl onto the couch or drag his body into the shower. He hadn't had the motivation to do anything really, other than replay the memories he held so dear to his heart.

But as he looked around his apartment, still teeming with the life you lived there, disdain rose up his throat like bile; burning a path through his body until he was boiling over with it.

Your most recent book was still open on the coffee table, the collection you brought with you still mixed with his on the massive bookshelf. Your slippers were still haphazardly strewn across the floor where you left them that morning, the echo of your halfhearted attempt to convince him to call in sick was still so fresh.

He felt something hot and putrid clawing its way out of him, singing every piece of skin and bone it touched on its way out. It was nasty, and vile, leaving a trail of change in its wake. Spencer could feel the mutation in his soul. He could feel the emptiness devour him whole, chewing on his bones for every last morsel he had to offer.

All that was left was a devastating rage. A fury that threatened the world around him. An indignation that promised singed handprints wherever he touched. A wrath so powerful he was no longer the man he was proud of. He was a stranger, an offensive mockery of what once was.

And the best part?

Spencer didn't care.

Spencer didn't care as he stood up and kicked the coffee table into the wall sending glass shattering all over the floor. He plucked the book out of the pile of carnage, not giving a shit about the splinters of glass embedded into his fingertips.

Spencer didn't care as he ripped the pages out of the book, hurling the empty hardback through the window. He watched with a sick satisfaction as the destruction sparkled around him.

Next was his bookshelf, the stories and words he'd share with you when the two of you couldn't sleep now flung across the room. The bookshelf was toppled, and not a care in the world was given as it crashed to the floor.

Spencer was a whirlwind of devastation, a tornado of obliteration so fierce there wasn't a corner nor cabinet that was untouched by rage.

Wherever you lingered, he destroyed. The chair you'd always sit at was slammed into the wall. The mug you favored was shattered against the floor. Every instance of your memory, of your ghost, was annihilated by his hand.

When he got to the bedroom, his chest heaving with firey vengeance, he paused.

Your side of the bed was still crinkled, the indention of your head imprinted on the pillow. Your Kindle was still charging on your nightstand. Your knickknacks and decorations still hung in every corner and on every shelf.

It was like you were just at the store and he should start dinner so it would be hot for when you got home. Like you were in the shower or on call. Anything but dead.

He couldn't tear apart the last remaining proof that you lived, that you had grasped his heart with your bare hands and allowed him the same privilege.

No, he couldn't bring himself to taint the preserved capsule of the life he shared with you with anger. Or sadness. Or the grief that left him raw and vulnerable. He couldn't even step one foot past the doorway.

He closed the door.

There was no use in even trying.

Before he could move on to the bathroom, the itch in his fist for more destruction too tempting for someone so usually non-violent, his phone rang somewhere in the apartment.

Spencer didn't feel like answering it or talking to someone about his wife and the chokehold her death has on him. He was perfectly content in watching his world crumble around him alone.

But it rang. And it rang. And it rang.

In a sudden burst of energy, Spencer marched right up to the source of the maddening noise. His mobile phone was neatly tucked into his satchel pocket, at fifty percent, just the way he left it after unceremoniously tossing the stupid fucking bag to the floor.

Spencer grabbed the phone in one hand and his heaviest lamp in the other. There was something so twisted about the relief that flooded him every time he brought the base of the lamp down on the phone.

His teammates would call it overkill if the phone was a person and the lamp was a knife. They would profile him as someone who was devolving, someone so close to snapping almost entirely that they had to act swiftly. In a way, he was. In a way, he was exactly like the monsters they hunted for the bloodlust that raged through him was for one thing only.

No amount of superficial destruction could keep his need for violence a bay. No, Spencer needed something organic to put his fists through. But for now, the insistent ringing of his phone has stopped, and he felt just a tad bit better.

Until his landline rang.

There was no breaking this phone, the technology old but surprisingly durable. So he only had one choice left if he were to save the last remaining shred of sanity he was clinging to.

"What the fuck is so important that you have to call me every six seconds?!"

He seethes, face hot with ire.

"Woah," J.J, breathes into the phone. "Calm down, Spence. I'm just calling to check up on you."

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry, Spen-. I'm sorry. I just needed to know you were okay."

Spencer was beyond annoyed, beyond aggravated. He could feel himself splitting at the seems with hatred and violence.

And Spencer didn't care if he was taking it out on his friend. Spencer stopped caring a long time ago.

"Oh, I'm fucking fantastic J.J. Just beaming with joy! It's not like my wife died not even twenty four hours ago. No, everything's happy unicorns and God damn rainbows."

J.J. just sighed.

"Spencer, I'm just trying to be there for you."

He could hear the desperation in her voice. But instead of comforting him like it should have, like it had done in the past, it irritated him even more.

"Sure, thanks."

Spencer was ready to hang up, ready to unplug the phone and toss it out of the broken window. But he heard something in the background, and his attention was once again drawn away from his agony.

It sounded as if someone were speaking to J.J., their tone urgent and dead serious. Spencer couldn't make out the words, but he could make out the importance of them.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. We're just having some problems with an unsub."

He knew exactly who she was talking about, knew why she was purposefully vague with him. And the second it all clicked, the second a plan swiftly formed in his head, he was dead set on a path.

"Okay... just- stop calling me for a while."

He played into the grieving husband shtick, not letting a drop of indignation seep through his voice. Arousing suspicion would nip his brilliant plan in the bud, and Spencer just couldn't have that.

J.J. was hesitant to agree, with her being an amazing friend and all, but ultimately relented. Spencer just needed space is all, at least that's what she told herself.

Spencer gently sat the receiver down, an eerie calm settling over him. It was a rage he'd never felt before, one that guaranteed an end. A retribution.

Revenge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It was easy for Spencer to just walk into headquarters.

Too easy.

Maybe it was because of the pallor of his skin, or the dark bags that had become so much darker. Maybe it was even the shabby robe he still wore; his pajamas reeking of depression.

Either way, Spencer didn't linger for long. The faster he was in and out, the less suspicion he'd raise. The less suspicion he arose, the longer he'd have with his ultimate agenda.

It was calculated perfectly, executed just so. Swiftly enter the building, sadly waving to the guards all the while mumbling about friends, and help, and shoulders to cry on. Sympathy was so easy to wrangle, so easy to manipulate.

They let him in, their eyes downcast to avoid the miserable expression on his face. He should be upset at how easy it was to get in. There really should be more security. But then again, he didn't really care, did he?

He breezed passed the main office, passed the badge check, and into the elevator. Now would probably be the point where reality would hit. Was he really planning on interfering with an ongoing investigation, just to get answers he could deduce himself?

But none of that even registered as he watched the numbers slowly click up.

The lobby leading into the bullpen was empty, void of his friends or the others he knew only in passing. He was alone. The perfect environment to enable his downward spiral.

That collected calmness puppeteered him like a marionette, its hooked claws pulling the strings of his limbs towards the hallway that led to the interrogation rooms.

This is where he heard the commotion of the BAU in action. Hushed demands, muffled yelling, the occasional sigh of frustration. They hadn't noticed him yet, his socked feet concealing his footsteps.

He popped his head around the corner, watching as Hotch, Morgan, and Emily whisper to each other in front of the viewing window. J.J. and Rossi were sitting inside the room, their backs towards the window and their undivided attention upon Dimitri Cain.

Just the sight of the man had his blood boiling, his fingers twitching, and his throat closing around a violent burst of every emotion possible.

Anger- because his wife was dead and he was the man responsible.

Sadness- because he was reminded that he could never look upon the love of his life ever again.

Jealousy- because he wasn't the one in the room, demanding answers and getting them.

Joy- because he was closer to scratching that itch than he thought possible.

J.J. and Rossi exit the room, their faces grim and arms crossed with frustration. The five of them move away from the interrogation room.

"We need to form another plan,"

He heard Hotch say, his voice tight and stern.

The team agreed and left the door in the hands of a guard whilst they plotted. Now was the perfect time. He couldn't believe the luck he was having.

Maybe there was such a thing as the divine.

"You're not supposed to be here, Dr. Reid."

The guard said as Spencer approached.

"I was called in to help, you can ask Hotch but I doubt he'd enjoy being second-guessed."

"I just don't think-"

"Please..."

Spencer pleaded, and the tone he used was genuine this time. There was no manipulation nor tactic to persuade, only unadulterated desperation.

"I need something to do."

The words unsaid seemed to be as loud as those spoken, the guard's face falling with sympathy as he hesitated.

I need something to distract me.

Only a brief second did Spencer play with the idea of attacking the guard. He knew of all the pressure points to swiftly and quietly take him down; it wouldn't be hard to get what he needed.

But the guard stepped aside.

"Thank you."

The heavy door was opened.

Spencer stepped through, his body tingling with a blazing fire.

The door clicked shut.

He was alone with the object of his undoing. The breaker of his world. And there was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man with nothing to lose.

Spencer sat across from Dimirti, the man in question eyeing him with a speculating gaze.

"You're gettin' nothin' outta me."

Dimitri leaned back and blatantly challenged Spencer.

"I just have a few questions."

"Are you even a fuckin' fed? You look like shit."

Spencer unconsciously mimicked Dimirti's stance, staring the man down with an unbreaking mask of tranquil fury. He let his silence answer for him, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in the chair.

"Alright, I see how it is."

"And how is it, Dimitri?"

"It's that reverse psychology shit, not gonna work on me."

Spencer just shook his head.

"Just ask me the stupid fuckin' questions already so I can get this shit over with."

Spencer hummed, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward on his elbows.

"Why did you take her?"

"Again with this bitch-"

"Watch your fucking mouth."

Eyes wide, Dimitri stilled. Then, realization glided across his face. A slow smile spread, tainting Spencer with its wickedness.

"You're the husband."

It wasn't a question but a mere statement.

You got what you want, I have a husband-

Please! I don't want to die!

Spencer pounced like a lion, toppling the table with Dimitri still cuffed to it. He was lost in the rage, mind, and body willingly subject to the agonizing fury that was slowly becoming a shield.

He couldn't hear anything, not a thought registered. Only the broken screams of his wife as she pleaded to live.

Spencer straddled Dimitri, completly in control as the man beneath him writhed.

Something sick and twisted bloomed inside him with the first punch. With the second, that evil forged a bond with his soul. Once pure and golden, Spencer Reid was now as dark as the blood that seeped from Dimitri's nose.

On the third punch, Spencer could feel the cartilage break. The splintering of his knuckles was nothing but an afterthought to the satisfaction and relief that plagued him.

Dimitri wiggled under him, trying with all his might to kick him off or slide his hands out of the cuffs. But Spencer kept going.

He brought his fist down again, Dimitri's face already swollen beyond recognition. The deep burgundy of Dimitri's blood sprayed across Spencer's face, across his chest, and outward into the air.

Unbeknownst to Spencer, he was giddy. His face stretched in a feral grin, every tooth shining with glee as he continued to pummel Dimitri into the stained marble floor.

Someone was screaming, the ragged and unfamiliar sound muffled like it was underwater. His ears were ringing, adrenaline and undiluted grief pushing everything Spencer ever was deep into an iron box and tossing it down the hole you left in his heart.

It wasn't until he was ripped from Dimirti, that he realized he was the one screaming.

"You killed her!"

Spencer thrashed against the strong body behind him, the grip under his arms unmoving despite his best efforts.

"You killed my wife!"

Feebly, Spencer tried to continue the beating, swinging his long legs towards the motionless body lying on the floor. Something wet hit his face, the sensation shocking his senses back into the present.

Derek was behind him, growling his name like Spencer was a rogue unsub who refused to listen.

He was dragged out of the room, his limbs now hanging numbly at his sides. Cold metal was wrapped around his wrists before anyone even tried talking to him.

Spencer welcomed the bite, savoring the only thing he could feel.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Hotch was in his face, his eyes wide with frustration. The team was behind him, but Spencer didn't even spare them a glance. He just looked past Hotch, unseeing and unfeeling.

"Spencer!"

Finally, he dragged his emotionless gaze towards his boss who was frothing at the mouth with anger.

"I don't know."

"I don't know, I don't know? What do you mean, 'I don't know'? I should fire you!"

"Then do it."

What did he have to live for anyways?

A team that would only look at him with pity? A family that would treat him like he were made of glass, cracked and begging to be shattered.

Hotch huffed a sigh, hands on his hips.

"Listen, kid. I know exactly what you're going through. Vengeance isn't the answer."

"Says the man who did the same exact thing I just did. The only difference between you and me is that you got your retribution immediately."

Spencer hated the look of understanding that creased Hotch's brows, the empathy that threatened to undo all the apathy that was holding him together.

"This anger isn't going to bring her back..."

Spencer knew this. He knew nothing could bring you back. No amount of praying, religious devotion, and possible rituals would bring you back to him.

The simple truth was that he was lost without you.

He didn't know how to live without you by his side.

Something dripped onto his hands clasped in his lap. When he looked up and could see nothing but his swimming vision, he realized he was crying.

An unstoppable sob wracked his body, forcing his shoulders to cave in and his chest to implode. The damn was bursting, his walls cracking with each broken cry.

When he took a deep breath, a feeble attempt to control the crumbling mess that was his mental state, it all crashed around him.

His throat burned with the intensity of his scream. All his grief, all his anger, and sadness, and desolation were unleashed. He curled in on himself, hugging his sides as if he were able to replicate the feeling of your embrace.

The team surrounded him, hushed assurances, and murmured comfort as they all wrapped their arms around him. It still wasn't enough.

It still wasn't you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N- This was supposed to cure my writer's block, but it still has its claws in me. I keep comparing my writing and my stories to those I see on my feed and I only get discouraged. But comparison is the thief of joy, so please let me know if you enjoy this. Feedback is very much welcome in any form but I need to know if I'm doing something right.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 8: Surprise

Another of my prompts from last year that fit.

*****

Rated T | 2,430 | tw: homophobic slur

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige—he always was—but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

****

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay insisted that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so incredibly perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before he kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy I am that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s- we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until, like, 10 minutes ago, so I don’t even have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought, though he kept that to himself.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you. You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned—minus is own spontaneous proposal—and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part— Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so- it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring.”

“Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting yours on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently fixed a curlon Bucks head and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took his ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[k-nayee]

Tik-Tok Killed the Video Star Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.7k a/n: ngl i had fun making this! hope y'all like it

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

LIVE: [Streamer: @Real___]

The ring light glowed bright, bathing your face in a soft artificial radiance that smoothed out every imperfection.

You weren’t taking any chances.

Leaning in toward your webcam, you tilt your head slightly as you examined your reflection in the streaming preview window. With precise and practiced movements, you adjusted a stray strand of hair, ensuring it fell perfectly into place.

Your skin had to be flawless—if only for this final performance.

It was almost funny, how even now, as you prepared to confess every last unforgivable sin, you still cared about how you looked.

The viewer count climbed.

At first only a few hundred trickled in. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

10K...40K...70K...100K...

The comment section was already a chaotic mess of scrolling text. The usual flood of usernames, some familiar, some new, all merging into a blur of reactions.

[SourCandyBites]: U MONSTER

[AztecStar]: OMG omg ily pls say hi to mexico 🇲🇽🇲🇽!!!

[lonondel_90]: WTF is this whats even happening rn??

[ChillPillPlease]: YALL SHE JUST TROLLING CHILL.

[MirrorVain]: WHY aint nobody talking about how GOOD she look??

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head in amusement as you finally flash your signature smile—bright, plastic, and perfected after years of camera training.

"Hey y’all! You already know what it is—" You paused for dramatic effect, watching the comments spike as your voice. "I know I know. This is a little weird right? Seeing me on Twitch instead of TikTok? But hey, gotta keep things fresh!"

Another flood of comments. Another spike in viewers.

120K...145K...190K...210K...

You could practically feel the world tilting toward you, drawn in like moths to a flame. The chat moved at breakneck speed, usernames flying by too fast to read. Still you caught glimpses:

[user876543]: Omg it’s really you!! 😭💖

[s1nisterViper]: NAH WTF R U DOIN HERE💀

[lilpeepfan99]: Say hi to Brazil!! 🇧🇷

[exposedtea]: MONSTER. YOU DESERVE TO ROT.

[simp4real___]: IDGAF WHAT THEY SAY I LOVE YOUUUU 😍😍😍

[SOKOLOV_feds]: 🧐👀

Your smile never faltered. Hate, adoration, indifference—it was all the same to you. Attention.

And right now you had it in abundance.

"So! Today we’re doing a special edition of Get Ready With Me—this one coming with a little bit of TEA!" You reached toward your makeup bag and dragged it into frame. The zipper unzipped smoothly, revealing an array of pristine cosmetics neatly arranged.

Foundation, concealer, brushes, powders—every tool of the trade, ready to transform you into the best version of yourself.

You picked up a tube of primer and squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips. As you rubbed it into your skin with slow methodical circles, you continued, voice light, almost casual. "Mmm oh yeah. You may be asking what are we getting ready for? Well you'll just have to wait and see."

A playful wink, the same one you’d done a thousand times before. It sent wave of anticipation rippling through the chat.

[hotdogwater24]: BRO WHAT IS GOING ON 💀💀💀

[kookiebxtch]: This feels...off.😅

[Skyline_Chaos]: WTF IS HAPPENING RN

[MurmurQueen]: this is so creepy stop😭😭

[AussieAmazed]:can u say hi to australia???

[NoFilterNell]: NAH THIS SOME REAL SHIT

[MidnightMuse]: get ready for what???👀

"Now I wanna be real with you guys. I really, truly do." You reached for a cleansing pad, running it over your skin evenly. "So I’ve decided to confess. Right here. Right now."

There was a different energy behind your voice tonight—something simmering just beneath the surface.

"First step, obviously is to start with a clean base. Gotta get rid of all the built-up dirt, oil, and, well..."—you let out a short laugh—"...bullshit."

[tea_with_tasha]: THE SHADE LMAOO

[cancelmebby]: Tf is this real life????

[JustCuriousNow]: confessing what kinda lost here

[SugawithdatTae]: yall know who she talm bout?👀

[softie4u]: GO TO HELL YOU BITCH

[Yunnie0678]: YOU KNOW WHAT TF U DID LAST YEAR

You moved onto foundation, pumping a precise amount onto a beauty sponge before dabbing it onto your cheeks and blending outward. With every soft pat against your skin the words left your mouth effortlessly.

"So let’s get into it: I was a regular person once. Just some nobody who blew up on TikTok overnight. And with fame...comes power. And with power? Ohhh, chat...the things I did I tell ya! And I got away with it too?? But no more secrets. No more running."

The next hour unfolded like a twisted diary entry.

You painted your face while painting a picture of your sins; every crime, every manipulation, every disgusting, unthinkable act you had committed with full knowledge that your wealth and influence would keep you safe.

Fraud...

Blackmail...

Backroom deals...

Murder....

Assualt...

Hush money...

From the people who had helped you to the people you had destroyed. You told them everything.

You named names; politicians, CEOs, celebrities, fellow influencers. Hell even Royal families! Anyone who had been untouchable...until now.

You had burned every bridge and exposed every secret.

The chat became an unreadable flood of reactions.

[OhMyGaaaawd]: omggggggg i cannot with this

[xani]: MY SHAYLA WHY?!😭😭 WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

[DenialZone]: I KNEW YALL MFS WAS EVIL

[fbi.gov]: 🚨🚨🚨

[WhySoSerene]: NAH U DESERVE DEATH FR💯💯

[whistleblower88]: you lying no way u did that😱

[Karma]: mf calm as if she didnt just expose all elites BRUH

[Atieh and Jacky's Therapy Sessions_stan]: IM STILL WITH YOU BABY 😍😍😍

By the time you reached the final steps of your routine, your face was fully made up—foundation, concealer, contour, a touch of highlighter. Perfection.

You checked the viewer count.

10.7 MILLION.

You chuckled under your breath, a smug little thing as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. "Oh this is definitely going down in history."

Then—

BANG BANG BANG

You froze at the sound. It echoed through the house, shaking the walls, reverberating through your bones. Your brows lifted slightly but your expression remained eerily calm.

[whoopsieD]: UHHH THAT DIDNT SOUND GOOD

[itzjustameme]: LMFAOOOOO THEY COMIN FOR UUUU

[nottherussianmafia]: 🤨

[WTF_Lunar]: WTF WAS THAT

[OfficerPlease]: those cops or security??

[UrDeepn8p]: THIS IS SOME MOVIE TYPE SHIT FR😭😭

[nameizzuzJeSOOS]: is this real or staged idk

The camera caught every detail—the way your lips curled into something almost amused, the slow way you turned your head toward the microphone.

"Oopsie." You giggled. "Guess I made some of y’all’s faves a little upset. Think they’re out for blood?"

The pounding grew louder.

With one last spritz of setting spray, you wave your face dry, ensuring everything stayed flawless. "No worries. I’m already one step ahead~" Reaching down under the desk, your fingers curl around cold metal. With a practiced motion you lifted it into the frame.

[PistolPapi]: HOLY SHIT is that a GUN

[youshouldrot]: yo YO yo wtf wtf wtf

[Stan___4evr]: mommy? sorry. mommy?

[FBI_watchlist69]: bro put the gun DOWN

[YoYoYeller]: kill yourself already, u deserve it

[rideordie_real___]: NOOOOO PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭

[not_a_cop]: 👀👀👀

Your head tilted as the shotgun balanced effortlessly in your grip. You popped it open with a satisfying snap, revealing two gleaming buckshot shells and close it once more.

You turned to the camera, smiling like a Barbie commercial. "And for those who have caught on—why yes I am depressed, mentally unstable, and quite frankly, ready to leave this dipshit of an earth."

[sweetrevenge23]: NO FUCKING WAY

[h_scanner]: 🚔🚔🚔🚔

[deathwish69]: YO WAIT HOLD ON

[pleasedontdoit]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hellawaits04]: LMAOOOOO ICONIC

[kenslaysUp]: no way this is happening rn

[moneymoves3000]: THIS SOME BLACK MIRROR SHIT

You let out a small breathy laugh. "Alright but seriously." Adjusting your hold on the shotgun, you shift it into one hand as you pressed the other against your chest. "I wanna say I’m sorry. To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone I’ve lied to. To my fans, my friends..."

Your voice dipped into something softer. Something real.

"To everyone I’ve wronged I’m sorry. To all my haters and naysayers—congrats you were right. Not that it matters. Nothing I say will atone for my sins and for what I’ve done. But maybe...maybe my death will be enough?"

A beat of silence.

A second of silence. Then—

CRASH

The unmistakable splintering of wood followed by the thud of footsteps flooded into the lower level of your house. They got in.

The chat exploded in panicked messages.

[fuckauthority]: DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

[paranoidxoxo]: THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE😱😱

[daddyissues420]: OH MY GOD

[govwatcher]: LAW ENFORCEMENT INCOMING

[jesuschristirl]: REPENT NEOW🙏🏾🙏🏾

[bigbootybitch33]: GIRL RUN WTF

[gov_watchlist98]: YOU’RE FUCKED LOL

[hotgoss411]: WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY RN

The comments was moving so fast now that it was unreadable.

You turned back to the camera, shotgun resting against your shoulder and beamed. "Oh and before I forget—" You gestured toward your laptop with your free hand. "This current live-stream is embedded with a virus that sends every single piece of evidence—every file, every video, every receipt—to every single person connected to my livestream. Surprise!"

[cybercrimes_unit]: ☠️☠️☠️

[We0ll see8]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[moral_justice]: LIVING LEGEND.

[snapeb00tysit]: DO IT PUSSY

[DudeNoChill]: bro wtf stop playin

[Punk0Lu2k]: DOES IT CONTAIN YOUR NOODS TOO??👀👀

[Brokie8ren]: AYE SEND ME SUM MONEY BEFORE YHOU KILL YOSELF, MY CASHAPP $STARRYNUTT

"So even if they do stop me..." You let the words linger, a satisfied smile curling at your lips. "Still checkmate. "

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

You could hear them charging down the hall. Seconds away.

You shifted the shotgun, maneuvering it with precision in a way its angled perfectly against your head as your finger curled over the trigger. At the same time, your other hand hovered over the ENTER key on your laptop.

"All I gotta do is press this button and—"

Your bedroom door burst open.

The camera didn’t capture who entered. But you saw them.

And you grinned.

"Too late fuckers!"

Your fingers moved at once.

Click.

BANG.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

A dull aching pain throbbed in your skull, deep and unrelenting, as if something had cracked open inside you.

Your body felt...off.

Too light and too heavy all at once, like your limbs weren’t quite yours anymore. A sluggish warmth clung to your skin thick and oppressive making it hard to breathe.

Your senses finally adjusted.

The first thing you noticed was the smell; burnt ash. Sulfur. Smoke curling in the air like invisible fingers.

Then came the sound; distant screams, eerie laughter, overlapping whispers that didn’t belong to any one person but still slithered into your ears like they were meant for you.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

And what you saw?

Red.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

A moon hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night. And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the red skyline, was the faint shimmer of white...possibly a star?

Jagged structures around you—half skyscrapers, half nightmares—loomed in impossible angles, their neon lights flickering in glitchy uneven patterns. The ground beneath you was scorched, still smoldering from whatever eternal fire had tried and failed to burn it all away.

You swallowed hard.

Something in the back of your mind whispered what you already knew.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

You were dead.

And this was Hell.

For a long frozen moment you simply sat there, staring at the pavement beneath you. Your breath came shallow and uneven. Your pulse—if you even had one anymore—drummed against your ribs.

Then your fingers twitched.

Something was in your pocket. Something smooth and solid...something familiar.

You slowly reached down and pulled it out:

Your phone.

A relieved breath escaped your lips. "Oh thank goodness."

The cool glass felt real in your hands, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could figure this out. Maybe you could find a way to call someone—

You glanced at the screen only to freeze.

No Service.

The relief shattered into ice-cold panic.

Your grip tightened, thumb swiping down to refresh—no bars. No Wi-Fi. No lifeline.

You tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and—

Nothing.

Your stomach lurched. Your hands shook.

Something inside you snapped.

You sat on your knees, clutching the useless phone to your chest as you let out a wail. "NO! NO! NO PLEASE GOD! I'M SORRY!"

The words tore from your throat raw and broken. You gasped between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into your palms.

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE���"

A soft chime.

Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. Sniffling, you pull it down to see the glowing screen. Your apps were still there.

Then, with a cautious swipe, you opened your gallery only for your heart to nearly stop.

All your pictures? Gone. Every selfie, every meme, every thirst trap, every aesthetically-pleasing shot of overpriced outfits? Erased.

And in their place?

Pictures. Screenshots. Videos.

All of them evidence of every fucked-up thing you’d ever done. Torture. Blackmail. Setups. Your biggest and most heinous crimes, all caught in 4K with timestamps, captions, and receipts.

You scrolled through them casually like flipping through an old yearbook.

"Oh damn almost forgot about that one. Good times." you muttered, rewatching one of your personal favorites—a high-definition well-lit compilation of your greatest hits.

God it was better than TV.

Speaking of—

A chill crawled up your spine.

The temperature around you shifted as a strange charged energy pressed down on your skin. The lights flickered wildly for a moment, glitching, before steadying.

You slowly stand to your feet as a towering figure suddenly appears a few feet away.

He was sharp, all jagged edges and neon accents, his black and red suit crisp and immaculate. But what stood out the most was his head—

An old-fashioned television screen.

The glass surface flickered erratically between distorted sharp-toothed grins and warped images of you from moments ago, as if he had already been watching you. Recording you.

Behind him stood several other demons. All tall, hulking, waiting for orders.

"Well well well...what do we have here?" His voice came layered—not just one tone, but multiple. Overlapping slightly like an old commercial playing on repeat.

"Huh." You tilted your head. "Who the hell are you?"

The screen on his face glitched violently. His grin remained but the static in his voice sharpened.

"You must be newcomer. How quaint." He took a step forward, his goons following suit. "Allow me introduce myself—"

With a flourish, he spread his arms, crackling energy surging through his body like a failing broadcast tower.

"I am VOX, Overlord of the Digital Age. Master of television, entertainment, and media. Everything broadcasted, everything recorded—"he gestured widely to the neon-lit cityscape behind him, "it all bends to me. And you, sweetheart, are standing in my domain."

"Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway—" you slid your phone into your pocket, "I was kind of busy. You need something Static Boy?"

A nearby streetlight exploded in a burst of pixels and sparks.

"Do you even comprehend where you are?" His voice was calm, but beneath it was a deep growing irritation.

"Yeah yeah. Hell. Domain. Big scary Overlord." You waved your hand dismissively. "Honestly I couldn't give two shits right now."

The second those words left your mouth something shifted.

Vox’s face flickered as air around him spiked like an overcharged circuit.

You didn’t know this guy but you sure as hell knew that reaction. He hated that.

And suddenly you were interested. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms, smirking up at him. "You must be one of those old-heads? Damn. You must hate people like me then."

Vox’s screen flickered again, his glow flaring slightly. "People like you?"

You grinned.

"Influencers."

There it was. That flash of disgust.

"Yup. TikTok mostly. Millions of followers. You know the usual." You grinned. "Guess we’re in the same industry huh?"

Vox’s screen glitched violently. "Your meddlesome kind have stolen relevance from true entertainment. It is no shock your type always finds its way down here with all the pollution you do. How dare you to even think you could be on my level?!"

You folded your arms. "Oh no. The evil TV man thinks I’m annoying. However will I recover?"

"You have no power here," he hissed. "I control what is seen. I control what is heard. I control what is remembered. Any pathetic influencers that land in my Hell?" He chuckles darkly. "I make sure they’re erased permanently. No fame. No following. Just nothing."

At that you finally laughed; a short and mocking, entirely unimpressed laugh.

"Oh. I get it now." You grinned. "You’re just pissed because TV isn’t relevant anymore. You’re an old man who's generation ruined everything for mines, and now you’re mad that social media overshadow you?"

The air around him screamed for half a second before steadying. His grin stayed but it was tighter now. "You’re bold."

You shrugged. "And you’re outdated."

Vox’s face flashed red.

A beat of silence...

Then chaos.

Vox’s goons lunged, their movements sharp and inhuman as they closed in on you. They were faster than anything you’d encountered.

You barely had time to react as their glinting claws shown from the glow of the city around you. Instinct screamed at you to dodge, but before you could even flinch—

The ground split open.

From the pavement beneath your feet a mass of glowing technicolor tendrils erupted—flickering and glitching like a broken screen.

They shot forward, lashing through the air with impossible speed, grabbing one of the demons mid-leap.

A choked gasp.

A wet, sickening rip.

The goon split apart; torn in half like he was made of paper, limbs flung to the ground in uneven pieces. Blood—dark and thick—splattered onto the pavement, sizzling against the heat.

Silence.

Your breath hitched as a sudden spike of ice-cold shock crawled up your spine.

'What the fuck was that?!'

You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t done anything. Yet the thing—those tendrils had responded...to you. Your hands trembled for half a second when it clicked causing your lips to curl into a smirk. Yes, it's true you hadn’t done that on purpose.

But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that.

Flicking imaginary dust from your sleeve, you sighed dramatically. "Whoops. Looks like I do have power here after all. Tsk. And here I was hoping we could be civil."

One of the goons glanced at the still-twitching remains of his comrade. His claws flexed as uncertainty began to bleed into his soulless eyes.

Good.

You wanted them nervous.

Across from you Vox had stiffened.

You noticed the way his form falter, the faintest distortion in his glow—the first sign of something resembling hesitation.

That made you grin.

"What’s wrong old man?" you purred, stepping forward, your tendrils pulsing with a sickly glow around you. "Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?"

A sharp burst of static cut through the air, the pixels on Vox's screen distorting wildly before stabilizing. His red eyes burned brighter as he snarled.

"Kill that bitch!"

The remaining goons paused for half a second—then rushed you.

This time you didn’t wait. Something in your blood snapped and the tendrils moved. Like snakes they twisted through the air eeriely. They tore through flesh like it was nothing.

One of the demons barely had time to scream before he was skewered, his body hoisted into the air, his limbs thrashing wildly as the tendrils twisted and ripped him apart.

Blood splattered across your face.

The others didn’t even have time to run.

A tendril shot forward and wrapped around a demon’s neck—tightening, lifting them effortlessly off the ground before snapping. Another shot forward like a bullet, piercing straight through a demon’s chest leaving a gaping hole left in their torso as they collapsed lifeless.

Faster...

Every move was precise.

Faster....

Clean. Efficient.

Faster....

It was like you had done this before. Like this was natural. In mere minutes it was over.

You let out a low whistle. "Huh. That was easier than I thought."

The bodies dropped, the blood pooled. And only one remained:

Vox.

Your tendrils slithered forward, curling around his limbs, binding him in place.

But they didn’t attack.

They simply held him. Firm. Unmoving. A silent display of dominance.

Vox was still. His claws twitched but he didn’t move.

You smirked, stepping closer. "Aww," you cooed with mock-sympathy dripping from every syllable. "What’s the matter VCR? Cat got your tongue? I thought you ran this place."

A snarl ripped from his throat, his neon glow flaring with a sharp burst of static. "It’s Vox you insufferable brat!" he snapped, his already layered voice distortion from anger.

You tilted your head slightly with twinkling eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure, Video Cassette Recorder."

His claws flexed. The tension in his body was visible, his expression twisting into something sharp and furious.

And you?

You ate it up.

Your smirk stretched into something sharper. A tendril slithered up, curling delicately around his top hat. And with a quick flick—

You plucked it off his head.

Vox’s static screeched.

You twirled the hat between your fingers, adjusting it neatly on your own head before opening your arms wide with a dramatic flourish.

"I think I like this look," you mused, lips curling. "Very showman."

A pause.

"Or in my case—" You tipped the hat slightly. "Showwoman."

Vox’s glare was murderous.

Never had he been humiliated by the likes of someone like you before. Oh how he wanted to kill you.

And even worse?

Sinners had started gathering; from the alleys, buildings, and shadows—bystanders who had been watching it all in silence.

Some were even pulling out their phones to record the spectacle.

You beamed and struck a pose. "Go ahead and tag me! @Real___! Let’s make this go viral yeah?"

The crowd—because oh yeah, there was totally a crowd now—erupted in whispers.

You beamed.

Vox seethed.

"Just you wait," he growled through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on you—"

Your brow raised. Your tendrils tightened ever so slightly. He lets out a glitching choke and immediately shuts up.

"Better," you coo. With exaggerated movements you began to sit down. Your tendrils shift beneath you, morphing into a throne-like seat, curling comfortably around your form.

"Now," Crossing one leg over the other with a pleasant smile, your elbows rest against the armrests as you leaned in slightly, voice mockingly sweet. "Be a dear and tell me everything I need to know about Hell."

[hexgirl13]

nobody gets me

wc: 1,329

summary: one night, two loner teens find comfort in one another

warnings(?): fluff, smidge of angst, cursing, shitty dads, smoking, use of y/n

a/n: another edition to the rafe x maybank!reader series. lwk the ending is kinda bad 😭 but i tried. lemme know if y'all wanna see more!!

the cool waters lapped against the shore, washing up little treasures from the ocean. taking a long hit from your vape, you leaned your head back to let the smoke fall from your lips. you slightly grimaced at the watermelon flavoured smoke. it had been a while since you did nic, but jj finished up your last joint. you found comfort in the cold and silence that was wrapped around you. it had been a long night for you.

you came home from your workshift to find jj gone. probably out with john b and all of. however, shortly after, your dad barged into the house. definitely drunk and definitely angry. that was, sadly, something that wasn't new. you took another hit and closed your eyes, trying to drown out the hateful words that he spewed at you.

"maybank?" you heard a voice call out to you.

you opened an eye to find none other than rafe cameron staring down at you. it was a surprise to see anyone, but especially someone like him, this late at the beach.

"what're you doing here?" he asked, moving to stand in front of you. his hair was messy, like he'd run his fingers through it a bunch, and his clothes were disheveled. and was he... crying? you couldn't tell in the dark.

"i could ask you the same thing." you eyed him up and down. his movements were jittery, while his eyes darted across the beach. he didn't stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt either. either he was about to have a panic attack or he was high. maybe both. "you wanna sit down?" you offered, your voice a gentle tone. his blue eyes made eye contact with you, before shakily nodding "y-yeah."

he dropped down next to you on the sand. knee bumping yours as he did so. you glanced at him through the corner of your eye. his gaze stays focused on his hands. numbly picking at his fingers. "stop doing that, you'll bleed." you pushed his hands down. almost immediately you realized what you'd done. "sorry," you mumbled, letting go of him.

he wearily watched you, but stayed quiet. when he wasn't with his asshole friends, he wasn't that bad. he was practically hated by your friends. especially by your brother. you never thought of him that way. with you, he was nice and... shy. "i'm sorry that i interrupted your quiet time or whatever," he muttered, now intently watching you.

"it's okay. it's a public beach, rafe. not just mine," you replied lightly. a minor way to lighten the mood. he let out a quiet chuckle. "maybe not, yeah. but i find you here often. speaking of, why are you here? thought i saw your pogue brother and his friends having a party."

"oh, uh, i'm not a big party person. prefer to be alone and stuff like that." you take another quick hit. his eyes drop down to where the smoke falls from your lips and he suddenly feels his mouth dry up. he swallows. “do you mind if i…?” he asks hesitantly.

you feel yourself stiffen up when you notice him looking at your lips. however, you soon realize he was talking about your vape. “huh? oh, yeah, here ya go.”

he gratefully takes it from you and hits it. a slight grimace spreads on his face when he tastes it. “watermelon, really?” he asked.

you let out a soft laugh. “yeah, sorry. jj finished my last joint. can't even find my dispo, either.”

“you know, i, uh, i sell. all kinds of shit. like, weed, geekbar, whatever you want. if you're interested, obviously. you don't have to feel-” he started to ramble.

you place a gentle hand on his bicep to stop him. “rafe. i get it. i’ll keep that in mind.” you could feel his body stiffen under your touch and gently smiled. no way rafe cameron was getting nervous around you. your hand trails down to hold his wrist, swiping at his pulse point.

his heart was racing.

“you wanna talk about why you’re here so late?” you asked softly.

his breath hitched at your feather like touch. “uh, m-my dad. him and i got into a fight. some stupid shit about the family. i mean, he acts like i don’t care!” he begins to ramble, hands shaking and eyes welling with tears, “b-but i do… i do care, i just don't understand why he can't see that. he makes me feel like shit, y/n… and i-” his voice breaks as some tears fall.

“oh, rafe,” you cooed, guiding his head to your chest. you ran your fingers through his blonde hair, brushing his bangs out of his face. his shaky hands gripped the front of your sweater, tears soaking it. it was so odd to see a typically strong and cocky boy break so much. you always hated ward cameron. he was a terrible man, both as a person and a father. it was defnitely clear to see now.

there was always an unspoken connection between the two of you. despite growing up on opposite sides of outer banks, you both felt like you shared more qualities than most. both of you always were the odd siblings out, like the black sheep of your families. so you understood what it felt like to be practically hated by your father, yet still craving to be loved and accepted by him.

“i get it, rafe. it sucks to feel like that because of your dad,” you whispered into his hair. “but you're not a careless person. i can see that you care, you just… show it differently. you're a good man, rafe. don't let him make you feel like you're shit or anything less than.”

he sniffled, lifting his head from your chest. “you think so?” he asked shakily.

“course i do. despite what others say, i can tell who you are. who you really are.”

i can tell who you are.

rafe had never heard those words before, and if he had, he'd probably never have believed it. yet coming from you… he did.

“thanks, y/n. i know i don't say it much, hell, i rarely say it, but you're a good person to me. no matter what,” he said, smiling gratefully at you.

you smiled, noticing something. “you called me y/n…”

“what?”

“you called me by my name. like, my actual name. you never do that.”

he hadn't even noticed that. “huh, i guess i am. can't exactly call you by your last name, right? that's reserved for your brother, who i’m… not particularly fond of. i kinda like you though,” he said with a slight wink.

there he was. the rafe that you knew and grew up with. “alright, rafe,” you replied, playfully shoving him. “i literally hate you.” yet there was a smile on your face.

“nah, you love me,” he countered.

you were thankful for the moonlight, or else he’d see the blush blooming on your face. “whatever.” a few moments of silence pass by, but it's not awkward at all. suddenly, you ask, “you wanna go to the gas station with me? i’d rather not walk there alone.”

his head turned towards you, blue eyes shining. “hell yeah. you got a car?”

you shake your head. “dude, i’m a pogue. i barely got any new clothes.”

he laughs softly and it makes you feel giddy. “that's okay, i don't have mine with me. we can just walk.” he stands up, dusting off the sand from his shorts. holding out a hand towards you, you accept it. once he pulls you up, he doesn't let go. neither do you. “c’mon, let’s go.”

the two of you walk towards the boardwalk, a blanket of silence covering the two of you. it isn't awkward though. understanding, and perhaps something else, passes between you two. and maybe, that's all either of you needed. somebody who understood.

[miniwheat77]

Stuck. (Gym Teacher!Soap x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, READER IS 18, NO MINORS, proceed with caution, age gap, unprotected p in v sex, soap and reader almost get caught, teacher x student relationship!

not edited.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Frustrated.

You hated school, absolutely despised it.

You’d just gotten to school and already one of the girls who was mean to you slammed into you, her coffee ruining your shirt.

It was a light colored shirt and now it was ruined. You tried your best to wash it and decided to just suffer until Gym. You’d just change into your Gym clothes when you got there. Maybe you could talk to your Gym teacher, Mr. MacTavish about sitting this one out today. He would understand.

You got along with him really well. He understands better than most anyways.

You covered your shirt up the best you could until you made your way to the Gym, just before Lunch is when your gym class was.

You were able to sit out for the day, thankfully since you'd have to wear your gym shirt and didn't want to be all sweaty for the rest of the day. After your class was over, you hurried into the girls locker room, usually there were no gym classes taught after lunch anyways. You tugged your shirt off and slipped your pants down your legs. Opening up your locker. Your face contorts into confusion.

Your clothes are gone.

“Looking for these?” You spin around, seeing the three girls that had made your life a living hell since you started at this dreadful school. You sigh. “Please give them back.” You sigh. “Hmm.. how about you come get them?” She smirks. You clench your eyes shut. Reopening them after a second. Reaching for your coffee stained shirt you had just taken off. Another girl snatches it away from you. Just as you’re about to step forward, she shoves you back. “No! No wait!” You cry out.

She forces you back, slamming the locker door shut. You push on it but it’s latched. You can hear them laughing. “Let me out!” You cry. “Leave her there, come on.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. It’s cold.

You bang on the locker for a while, but nobody hears you.

You don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck inside.

—

It’s hours later, you’re freezing and shivering but you’re trying to relax.

You finally hear the door open, Mr. MacTavish happens to be coming inside to clean everything up for the day. There’s supposed to be no girls inside.

You can hear him whistling as he walks inside. Dread sets into your gut. You didn’t want it to be him that found you but you had no choice. You bang on the locker, startling him as he nears. “Please let me out! Please help!” You cry out. “Y/N?” He hears your voice right away. “What the hell?” He makes his way to your locker, lifting the tab and opening it up. You cover yourself up. He turns his head, seeing you’re almost nude. “What the hell is going on?”

“They locked me in here just after Gym.” You cover yourself up. He turns back to you. “Christ, the same three?” He asks. You nod your head. He shakes his head. This isn’t the first time this has happened. You’d actually spent a lot of time in Mr. MacTavish’s office because of injuries inflicted from the three. “Just.. stay here. I’ll find you something.”

Just as he turns to walk away. He can hear footsteps coming his way. “Shit. This is about to look really bad.” He hesitates, hoping they’ll pass. When the footsteps get closer, he panics.

He grasps your arm, moving you to the other side and unintentionally slamming you up against lockers, clamping a hand over your mouth before you can yelp out. “Stay quiet.” He breathes. He sees your wide eyes staring back at him.

“You’re half nude and I’m in here alone with you.” He mumbles. You nod your head, eyes still wide. How close he is to you is intimidating.

“Mr. MacTavish? Are you in here?” You can hear that it’s another teacher. “Yeah- I’m just cleaning up the locker room!” He calls. “Oh okay. I just had a real quick question.” He looks to you again, raising his finger up to his lips to hush you. Slowly releasing his hand from your mouth. Your lips part in surprise.

Mr. MacTavish steps out from behind the locker. Placing his hand on the lockers to make it seem like there’s nothing out of the ordinary. “What was your question.”

“Did Y/N show up to your Gym class? I was talking to another couple teachers and they said she was here for a few classes and gone for the rest and nobody knows where she went.”

“Ah, it was probably those girls who pick on her. They probably did something to make her go home.”

You clench your eyes shut. You didn’t want him telling anyone about them. “What?” He says confused. Mr. MacTavish gives him their names and tells him about a few things they had done to you in the past.

After a few minutes, he finally leaves.

“Oh thank god.” He mumbles. He quickly locks the door. You stay where you are, back pressed against the cold row of lockers behind you. You stay quiet, hearing his footsteps coming your way. “Here.” He holds out a baggy t-shirt. It’s the only thing he’s got. “Thanks.” You mumble. You slide it over your head. It goes down passed your hips thankfully.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He’s noticing your change in demeanor. “Why did you tell him all of that? I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Y/N, they left you in a locker for hours. You’re lucky I came in here because it’s Friday. If you had got locked in there over the weekend, you could’ve died.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Y/N. Why do you let them pick on you? I’ve seen you participating in some of the activities I have in my class. I know you hold back.”

“Jesus Christ Mr. MacTavish.” You groan. “The Principal is related to Taylor!”

“So what?” He crosses his arms. “So they’re not going to take my side. They’re going to side with her.”

He shakes his head. “Not while I’m around. Not after locking you in here. Jesus Christ.” He mumbles. He stands in front of you, moving closer. “Y/N. You have to stand up for yourself or nothing is ever going to change.” He breathes. His close proximity is starting to overwhelm you. “I-“

He can see you getting overwhelmed, he can tell you feel cornered. He backs off. “Come on, follow me.” He shakes his head. You skeptically look at him, following after him. Tugging the shirt down as you walk behind him. Once he’s got you into his office, he digs through an old bin of gym shorts he had and passes a pair to you. You quickly slide them on. “Now come on. We’re going to the office.” He mumbles. “For what?”

“Just come on.” He mumbles.

You sigh. Following after him.

Those bitches even took your shoes.

You want to curl up and die.

When he opens up the office door for you, you walk in first and immediately see Taylor waiting for the principal who is her father to take her home for the day. She has a smirk on her face when she sees you. “Mr. MacTavish, everything okay?” The receptionist smiles. “No.” He mumbles, he asks her to get a hold of the principal.

He eventually emerges out of his office. “John, something going on?”

“Yeah, Taylor and a couple of her friends locked Y/N in one of the gym lockers for about…” he looks down at his watch. “4 hours. Took her clothes as well.”

He turns to look at Taylor. “Is this true?”

“What? No. He’s lying.”

“Y/N, is that what happened?”

You nod your head. “Why do you think she doesn’t have any shoes on? Her attendance is suffering from Taylor’s bullying. That’s almost half a day missed because of this, and only god knows what could’ve happened to Y/N if I hadn’t heard her calling for help.”

He turns to look at her, and she starts in with the crocodile tears.

“Well. I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it taken care of.”

—

Mr. MacTavish doesn’t understand why you’re gone for another week, until he finds out you were placed on suspension.

You were right, there’s nothing you can do.

When you come back, they’ve ramped up the harassment.

You’ve had enough, and Mr. MacTavish was right. You do hold back.

You’re sitting on the bench, they never did give you your gym clothes back. You have to wait for new ones, so you’re sitting out of the activities until further notice. Mr. MacTavish notices the three girls are talking to you, probably being rude.

He sighs, trying to finish up his grading when he hears a “oh shit!” From one of his students. Turning to see that you’re no longer on the bench, and instead, straddling Taylor. You’ve got a hand wrapped in her hair as you wail on her. The other two try to intervene but you’re not budging. “Steamin’ Jesus.” He groans, jogging over to the two of you. He tries to pull you off of her but even he struggles.

When he’s finally got you off of her, you’re seething. Breathing heavily and saying nothing. “My office! Go!” He pushes you. You glare at him, turning your back and walking toward his office, shaking the pain off of your hand. He helps Taylor up, she’s holding her bleeding nose.

He knows it’s bad but he wants to laugh, this is exactly what she deserves. “Go to the nurse, the three of you.” He shakes his head.

He gives every one else instructions to go back to the basketball game they were playing. Making his way to his office.

You’re sitting in the chair in front of his desk and he laughs the moment the door is closed. “What happened?”

“She was taunting me.” You shrug. He shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’re really in for it now, kid.” He laughs.

After a few more minutes, the principal barges in. “This behavior is unacceptable.” He seethes.

“Y/N, go wait outside on the bench for a minute.” He ushers you out, closing the door behind you.

“She’s on immediate suspension- this is ridiculous.”

“No.” He mumbles.

“What?”

Mr. MacTavish crosses his arms.

“The janitor found Y/N’s clothes in the trash can behind the school a few days ago. He thought it was odd so he brought them to me. Can only assume you placed them in there, right?” He mumbles. “Or maybe this will tell us?” He holds up the flash drive from the janitor, the footage of him throwing them in there to cover up for Taylor.

“If you don’t tell Taylor and her little friends to leave Y/N alone, I’m going to go to the board about this. And you’ll lose your job, and Taylor will get expelled. You wouldn’t want that right?”

He shuts up really fast. “If Y/N starts in on one of the three again, I won’t pull her off next time. Raise your kids to be better, not assholes.” He wants to come out of his chair and put hands on him. “Fine. Alright. Whatever you want.”

“I mean it, not one more time. And I want you to pay the fees it’s going to take to replace Y/N’s shoes and gym clothes.” He’s got his arms crossed. “Alright. Fine. She still has to be held accountable for violence.”

“We’ll talk with her.” He shakes his head. “Y/N. Come back in.” He waves you inside.

You sit down and they’re both standing as they look at you. “Violence is unacceptable Y/N.” Mr. MacTavish looks at him as he says it. You bring your eyes up from the floor, looking at him. “Yes sir.” You mumble. Johnny can see that you want to roll your eyes. You’re feigning regret. “Detention. For the rest of the week.” He sighs. “Yes sir.” You repeat it, Johnny wants to roll his eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” He sighs. He walks out and you huff, sitting down.

“Want some ice?” He asks, seeing your knuckles that are split and swollen. “No. The sting reminds me of what it felt like to hit her in her stupid face.” You sigh. He can’t help but laugh. “You can hang out in here but I’ve got to get back to my class.” You nod.

He goes out to make sure everyone is doing what they’re supposed to. By the time he comes back, you’re gone. At some point, the Principal had placed enough money on his desk for new Gym clothes for you. Johnny can’t believe the lengths he’d go, to protect his daughter, especially when she’s the one in the wrong.

For the remainder of the week, he spots you in passing. Seeing you resting your head on your hand in Detention. Sending you smiles in the hallway. If Johnny had to pick a favorite student, it’d probably be you. Just because you dealt with so much bullshit and hardly showed it.

The bullying seemed to die down. They weren’t constantly harassing you and you weren’t in his office bugging him when they did like you usually did. It was a good thing of course, but he couldn’t deny that he missed having you around. You participated as normal in his gym class and your attendance had really picked up since they quit bugging you. It was odd for a change.

It made you realize how much you liked being around your gym teacher.

Not being around him as much made you want to be around. It made you think about all the time you had spent around him and than you started dreaming.

More specifically about when he’d found you in that locker in the locker room, and pinned you to them. Holding his hand over your mouth. The dreams you’d had about him when you weren’t around him as much were straight up dirty. You don’t know why these were coming out of the left field like this, you hadn’t ever felt this way about him before. You’re not sure what had changed anyways.

You kept your cool around him even when you didn’t want to. You had no choice. He was a teacher and you were a student. You knew he would never want anything like that with you. That didn't stop your mind from wandering.

It was your last day of detention, you were bored. Resting your head on your hand and staring at the clock as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow.

You don't turn your head when the door opens, it usually wasn't anything too important.

"Hi. Can I borrow Y/N for a minute?" He asks. His voice is what makes you perk up. "I have a couple of questions for her and she doesn't look too busy."

The other teacher nods her head and you gather your things, following him out of the room. Once the door is closed and you're walking alongside him to the gym, you speak up. "Something wrong?" You ask. "No just wanted to save you from that hell." He laughs. You smile. "Thanks. Looks that bad huh?" You laugh. "Well your grades have been good since those girls have left you alone so I imagine you have nothing to work on. Just staring at that damn clock," He smiles. "Yeah. It's like the damn thing moves in slow motion."

He laughs.

When you get to the gym, you follow him into his office.

"I was meaning to ask. What do you plan on doing after you graduate?" He asks. "I'm not sure. Figured I'd just go take some basic classes at the community college until I figured it out." You shrug. "You don't have any dreams at all? Nothing?"

You shake your head. "To be honest? People don't take well to me. I'm not sure why." You laugh.

"It's cause you're quiet. Not assertive."

You nod your head. "When are you supposed to graduate?" He asks. "Next couple of months? Why?" You ask. "Just wondering. I couldn't remember what grade you were. So that means you're Eighteen?" He asks. "Yep. Turned eighteen a few weeks ago." He nods his head.

He doesn't say anything for a minute which you find odd.

"You mind helping me clean up the girls locker room? I still have to do the boys."

"Sure."

You had done it a time or two anyways, there wasn't much to it. Changing out the trash liners, sweeping the floor. Picking up trash.

You finish sweeping when you hear the door.

You spin around but don't see anyone. Odd.

You start to worry. Hoping it's not Taylor finally seeking out her revenge.

You move back into the showers, checking to see if there were anything in there. Sometimes people left their trash inside. You turn back around but someone pushes you back into the tile wall. A gasp barely slides past your lips when he clamps a hand over your mouth. "Shhh. It's alright."

Your eyes are wide as you look at him.

"Can you stay quiet?" You nod your head slightly, looking down at his hand.

"W-what are you doing?"

He swallows hard. Looking down at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks down at you. "You can stop me."

He tilts his head just slightly. Leaning into you ever so slowly. He wanted to make sure that you actually want this.

When his lips brush over yours, you realize exactly what this is.

When he presses his lips to yours, you're surprised.

You almost forget to kiss back.

Your heart races in your chest as he pushes his hand along your side, onto your hip and into the curve of your back to pull you into him. Your brain is fuzzy, not processing what the hell is actually happening.

When he pulls away, he can see it in your eyes. You want this just as bad as he does. "What if someone comes in?" You swallow hard.

He thinks for a second. You're right. He can't do this here.

"You're right. Your parents come home before or after you do?" He asks. "After, they work until six and after." He nods his head. "Head home, I'll finish up here and I'll be by to get you. If you want."

Your lips part in surprise. You nod your head. "Yeah- yeah of course. Um.." You pause, giving him your address.

He saves it into his phone, just as he steps away from you, the detention bell rings.

You do as he says, leaving and going home for the day.

You're in a daze as you walk. Unsure of how the hell someone like him could want to be with someone like you. He'd actually tricked you into the locker room so that he could kiss you.

He even made sure you were eighteen first!

You step inside and rush to be better prepared. Hopping into the shower really quick, changing into better clothes.

You're waiting when you finally see him pull into your driveway. You're nervous. You've had a crush on him sure, but hadn't put too much thought into this if it had actually happened. Could you really go through with this?

You send your mom a text and let her know that you'd be staying with a friend. Unsure if it would be overnight or not. You make sure to lock the door behind you, making your way to his truck. You open the passenger side and climb in. "Hey." He smiles.

You're so doing this.

"Hi."

Your nerves are shot as he drives to his house.

In just a couple of hours you'd gone from just a normal gym student to him bringing you home.

When he pulls into his driveway, the sun is starting to set.

You follow him up to his front door, following him inside. You look around.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, I was just wondering. You bring all of your female students home with you?" You smile. He rolls his eyes. "Why, jealous?"

You smile.

"No, no I don't. I don't want to risk my entire career for just anyone, you know."

"Yeah well, you bailed me out of detention and let me blow off a bunch of classes by letting me sit and do fuck all in your office so.. I can keep a secret. Since you've kept mine."

He laughs. He closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you again. You let him kiss you. Kissing him back. "Have you had sex before?" He asks. You nod your head.

"Good. I don't have to go slow." He laughs. Lifting you up off the ground. Your wrap your legs around him and let him carry you to his bedroom. Something you didn't think happened outside of movies. Same with having sex with your teacher.

He lays you down on his bed, climbing over the top of you. He unbuttons his jeans, tugging them down his legs.

"You can stop me. If you feel uncomfortable at any moment." He reassures you. "I know. I'm okay." You nod. He helps you get your pants down your legs, completely off. Your shirt following. He's starting to act different. His usual easy-going attitude is gone. Replaced completely by lust. He makes sure you're wet enough first, not wanting to hurt you.

He lines himself up with you and sinks into you, hearing you gasp.

Your eyes widen slightly.

You were really doing this. You were really having sex with him.

He draws back and thrusts in to the hilt, hearing you gasp out again. "Oh god-"

"Just call me John, sweetheart." He chuckles. You clutch at his sheets. Rolling your eyes at him.

He rests a hand beside your head, holding himself up. The muscles in his arm flex. He was fit, even for a gym teacher.

You screw your eyes shut, moaning out his name.

He didn't think that he'd really be able to get himself here. He figured he'd fail and lose his job trying to get you into bed with him

"You're so tight." He whines, a noise you didn't think he could make. He presses his thumb into your clit, lips parting slightly as he touches it. "Shit... your clit is so swollen baby." He licks his lips. You flinch away from his touch. "Sensitive too." He laughs. He rests his thumb on it just barely. rubbing gentle circles over it. He feels your thighs tightening up, starting to shiver slightly from his touch.

"You're doing so good for me. So fuckin' good lass."

You smile, and he tilts his head. "What?"

"I like that." You pant.

"What, when I call you lass?" He asks. You nod your head, hearing him chuckle. You smile, cheeks reddening. He smiles. He thinks despite the situation you're in, you're really cute.

"You're so cute with my cock inside you." He taunts. Hearing you gasp when he thrusts in harder than before.

He was getting close, he needed to get you there. He applies more pressure to your clit than he had before, rubbing eights into it and watching you visibly lose it underneath him. You're getting louder, breaths even more unsteady than the last. He watches you jerk slightly with every hard thrust he takes into you. You've got your lip pulled between your teeth, hands clutching at his cheeks. Your eyes are screwed shut. You're a sight for sore eyes.

His stomach tightens up. He's dangerously close. He wants to cum inside you sure, but he can't get a student pregnant.

"John.. I- I'm really close." You whine. He grits his teeth hard, nearly cumming right then and there at the sound of your voice. "It's alright doll. You can cum for me." He breathes, lowering his head to kiss you. He keeps his lips locked to yours until you're moaning into his lips, legs shaking as you reach your orgasm around him. His eyes roll back, you're tightening on him and it takes everything not to finish inside of you.

When he's given you time to ride out your high out, he draws his hips back, pulling away from the kiss. Stroking his cock and covering your stomach in his cum. He hisses, teeth gritted. Seeing him like that makes you realize the gravity of the situation you're in. How if someone found out about it you'd be in a lot of trouble, him in even more.

Good thing you were good at keeping secrets.

[francisofthespook]

A/N: if you say my little 3am rant, no you didnt. But heres a little one shot thing i wrote last night when i couldnt sleep. I literally wrote this on my phone in my tumblr drafts at 5am and barely edited it so just bear with me okay... This so so stupidly self indulgent idk if this will even interest anyone, but writing it made me feel a little better :'') Would this count as hurt/comfort ? Idk

AUDaryl Dixon x F!Reader

Word count: 1928

Warnings: None fr, just smoking

Setting: AU where walkers never happened and you are Daryl's Neighbor (This isnt the one I had talked about in the tag game). I imagine this with like season 5 ish Daryl.

I made the border :)

“What are ya doin’?”

Daryl walked up to the waist-high chain link fence that separated your yards, leaning on it. You sighed heavily, avoiding his eyes as you ashed your cigarette on the ground.

“What’s it look like.”

You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the weight of everything that had been plaguing you the past week didn’t leave you any stamina for pleasantries.

“Woah, okay.”

He held up his hands defensively with a small laugh. Neither of you spoke. He was waiting for you to continue, you were waiting for him to leave.

Daryl stared off in the distance at some dead tree in the back corner of your yard. He knew you, knew you would say something eventually. But you didn’t. He was starting to get a little concerned. In all the years he had been your neighbor, your friend, he had never seen you this quiet.

Usually you loved talking shit with him. Telling him about every little inconvenience that happened that day while you smoked your respective cigarettes. Him, drinking in every little thing that you said, and you, talking endlessly for hours until your boyfriend came home and Daryl would quickly hop the fence and retreat into his house.

“(Y/N), what’s goin’ on?”

He said in a more serious tone, trying to mask the concern that was growing within him. His grip slightly tightened on the fence and the wires dug into his palms as they began to sweat, the Georgia sun beating down hard on his exposed shoulders. “Ya know ya can tell me anythin’.”

“Leave me alone.”

You still wouldn’t face him. He could see your body tensing every time you were reminded of his presence. He could tell you were trying to hold it together, purposely hiding as much of yourself as possible from him. It only made his anxiety grow.

Daryl cared about you more than he’d like to admit. When you and your boyfriend first moved into the shitty house next to his even shittier one, he was pissed, already mourning the privacy his tucked away home gave him. But he was wrong.

It couldn’t have been more the opposite. Your boyfriend was gone nearly all the time, and you were taking classes at the local community college so it stayed pretty quiet. But every evening, after you came home, you would sit on your little patio and smoke for a while until your boyfriend came home, (usually at an unreasonable hour, drunk, and stumbling straight to bed).

Over time, yours and Daryl’s ‘smoke breaks’ started to line up. And it totally didn’t have anything to do with Daryl thinking you were pretty and wanting to eye you as he had his evening cigarette.

It started with just you and him on your respective patios, smoking and not acknowledging the other's presence. But one day, you spoke up. You had asked him for a light, and he wordlessly sauntered over to the fence and held the flame to you as you leaned over to light your cigarette. From then, it escalated.

It was almost routine now, that Daryl would be outside already having a smoke when you got home and finally made your way out. Once he saw you, he would walk over and hop the short fence, and you two would sit together while he listened to you talk about your day. He rarely spoke about his own, he much preferred your dramatizations of shitty encounters with your professors, or run-ins with ex-friends. He secretly looked forward to it every day.

But now you were quiet, and that scared him. Quiet was not a word he would use to describe you.

“Seriously (Y/N), what’s wro-“

“Daryl, fuck off!”

You finally turned to face him, and he almost wished you hadn’t. Black streaks ran down your face from the mascara that had run, dried, and then run again. Your eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, your lips slightly swollen from crying so hard.

The sight of you caused an ache in his heart that hurt so deep, that he had to stop himself from instinctively placing his hand on his chest to check that a hole hadn’t been drilled through it. Without hesitation, he hopped the fence and rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you as you covered your face with your hands.

Smoke curled upwards from the still-lit cigarette between your fingers, and a small tuft of ash fell onto your jeans. He wanted to reach out and touch you, place a hand on your knee, and rub small, soothing circles with his thumb, but he knew he shouldn’t. There was an unspoken line between you two that he never dared cross, no matter how badly he yearned to. But for the first time, he seriously considered it.

“Please, jus’ talk to me.”

He pleaded, his brows furrowed with worry as he looked up at your still hidden face. His hand flinched, he wanted nothing more than to pull you into a tight hug and tell you everything would be okay. He would burn down the whole world for you if he thought it’d make you feel better.

“It’s stupid.”

You said, your hands muffling the words to where he almost couldn’t make out what you were saying.

“It obviously ain’t that stupid if it’s upset ya this badly.”

He spoke in the most gentle voice he could muster.

You slowly brought your hands down, dropping the cigarette onto the concrete and putting it out with your shoe. You still didn’t lift your head, still couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him. You were ashamed of your state, wondering why you even came out here in the first place, knowing he would be out here too.

“Please, yer freakin’ me out”

His voice slightly cracked, and it made your already broken heart crack even more. Daryl was your best friend, kinda your only friend. But you didn’t feel like talking. The hurt you felt encapsulated your entire soul, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to put into words the pain you felt right now, didn’t even want to try.

Slowly, cautiously, you tilted your head up, making eye contact with him for the first time today. The worry that painted his face made you ache. You felt like you didn’t deserve his worry, that he didn’t deserve to have his emotions negatively altered by you. You already felt like such a burden to everyone around you, Daryl was the last person you’d ever want to add to that list. He deserved to be happy, not on his knees in a dither about you.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled.

Daryl knew that whatever it was that had caused you this much turmoil must have been bad. And as much as he wanted you to divulge every little detail so that he knew who or what to take it up with, he respected your boundaries and nodded.

“Tha’s ok. But please, jus’ let me be here fer ya.”

You stared into his deep blue eyes, your own glassing up again, and nodded.

“Okay.”

He gently patted your knee twice, a safe contact, before standing up and dragging a chair close to yours. Pulling his pack from his chest pocket, he brought a cigarette to his mouth and motioned for you to pass him the lighter.

You flicked the metal wheel and held the flame over to him, cupping it so that it wouldn’t go out. He took a deep breath in as the end of the stick cherried, and leaned back in his chair.

“Went to the shop today to get those brake pads I ordered, they were s’possed to be ready today. I get in there and the damn fool at the counter told me they’d been back ordered fer another month!”

You looked over, slightly surprised to hear Daryl talking as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just seen you at your lowest state. He stared off at the tree line as he continued.

“Then, when I’m on my way home, I get pulled over fer not ‘stoppin’ all the way’ at a stop sign”

His smoke brushed past you as he raised his hand to make air quotes. You realized, that he was trying to distract you by sharing details about his day. You could feel the warmth in your heart ever so slightly starting to fuse just the tiniest cracks.

You held your hand up to cover your mouth as you bit back the smallest laugh.

He grunted, “An’ then I get home and see that Dog took a big ol’ shit on the couch.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. As much as he normally disliked talking about himself, he would do it until the sun burnt out just to see the small smile that was starting to form on your face.

He went on for a little while, talking about everything from his favorite shirt ripping last week, to the time he and Merle supposedly saw a ‘chupacabra’.

By the time you heard the car pull into the driveway, you had almost forgotten about your own shitty day. Almost.

Daryl took the sound of your garage opening as his cue to head home. He stood up and stretched a little before turning to start walking back.

“Daryl-“

You called out before he reached the fence. He turned his head to look over at you.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a smile smile and a nod before saying, “Anytime. Hate seein’ ya so upset.”

The sun had long set, and you hoped that your dim porch light was dull enough to conceal the blush on your cheeks.

“See you tomorrow?”

You asked, a small part of you worried that he wouldn’t want to hang out with you anymore after seeing how pathetic you were today.

“‘Course”

He gave you one last smile before grabbing the fence and hoisting himself over it. You stood up as you heard the garage door open and close as your boyfriend made his way through the house.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, you thought about what it would be like if Daryl were lying next to you instead of this cold man who barely even spoke to you anymore. You thought about what it would feel like to be held again as you fell asleep, something long disregarded with your current partner.

You felt a small ache for a version of yourself that was living next door with Daryl. Cooking breakfast for him while wearing only his shirt, curling up on the couch with him in the evenings as you watched some dumb rom-com, riding on the back of his bike as he swerved through Atlanta streets late at night.

You were jealous of that version of you, the one that said ‘fuck it’ to everything shitty in her life and exchanging it for a better one, with him.

But you weren’t that girl. You weren’t strong enough to do what it takes to be her yet. But the hope that maybe one day, you could be, was what finally helped you drift off to sleep that night. And maybe if you had known that just a few yards away, Daryl was dreaming about the same thing, it would have given you the confidence you needed to become that girl.

But for tonight, you laid an arms length away from a man you barely recognized anymore and hoped that tomorrow would be better.

lmk what yall think, love you guys <3333

[storiesbyrhi]

Part Six: That sometimes, if love proves real

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 2584 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Late, 29 October, 1995

You recognised the caller as Hopper because he used your real name. He sounded afraid and out of breath. You both knew he should not have your number, both knew it could put you in danger, but you felt some sense of homesickness and relief hearing his voice.

“Listen, I can’t be on the line long,”

“Hop, what’s-”

“No, no, just listen. They’re gone. They’re dead. T-Bird and his kid. Tin Tin too.”

It took a moment for you to catch up. You’d only ever used their real names. They didn’t get to hide behind gang bullshit. Neil Hargrove. Billy. Andy.

You didn’t understand why he was calling with such urgency. People like them were bound to meet untimely ends. They’d probably accidentally blown themselves up.

“I can’t explain it… I don’t know… I don’t know what he is…”

“Hopper, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Eddie… He’s back. He’s killing them all… I, I didn’t know if you should know. I… Jesus, kid. He’s… He’s different…”

You had stopped listening after Eddie’s name.

Time stood still.

It wouldn’t move forward again.

You hung up the phone, found your keys, and got in your car. If the road were okay and you only stopped for petrol, you could be back in the city that killed you in just over thirty hours.

Morning, 30 October, 1995

While Grange visited Eddie’s grave, finding the ground open and the casket empty, Susan Mayfield was in the kitchen of her apartment.

The television was on. “This is the 7:00 am edition of Action News. For over a decade, the night before Halloween has had a darker and deadlier nickname in the inner city, ‘Devil’s Night.’ The name given to what has become an annual plague of arson. Last year, 200 individual blazes were reported, and eleven people lost their lives-”

Max was woken by the smell of eggs. She sat up, still on the couch. She’d fallen asleep there, hugging a Corroded Coffin vinyl to her body.

“Hi,” Susan greeted nervously. “Do you like them up or over? I can’t remember,”

“What are you doing? I don’t like eggs,”

“What? Wait, no, you loved egg,”

“Yeah, when I was five,” Max said, crossing their small apartment to the kitchen.

“So, what do you want now? Black coffee and cigarettes?”

Max looked at Susan. “What… What happened? Since when were you mother of the year?”

A dark look crossed Susan’s face. She shook her head a little. “Someone kind of… woke me up, I guess,”

“You’re acting weird. Did you win the lottery or something, Susan?”

“Forget it! I was never too good at this mom shit anyway,” and she moved to tip the frying pan of eggs in the bin.

“No!” Max jumped to stop her. “Over easy… I like them over easy…” They looked at each other. “Did you… Did you see him too?” Max asked.

Eddie had followed Susan that morning. He’d scared her, of course, how could he – like that – not? But he told her she had a shot. No Hargrove thumbs to be kept under. “Mother is the name of God on the lips and hearts of all children,” he’d told her. Susan didn't know the quote, but she understood the meaning of a second chance.

“I didn’t know… I swear I didn’t know it was them,” Susan began to cry. She hadn’t known it was Neil, Billy, and their gang who’d murdered you and Eddie. If any part of her had connected the dots, it had been suffocated under the weight of fear.

Susan hadn’t exactly liked Eddie, never bothered to get to know him beyond the metalhead exterior, but she’d appreciated the way you and he had taken Max in. She’d always wished she could have been more like the two of you.

With pulp free orange juice and over easy eggs, Max learnt about Andy, Billy, and Neil. Her mother shook like a leaf in a hurricane as she told her that something, someone had come for them. That he’d come for her too, but armed not with weapons but words.

“I’m glad they’re dead,” Max said. Susan did not doubt it.

“You know what Devil’s Night morning is for?” Hopper asked Annie. She rolled her eyes at him, refusing to say it. “That’s right! Coffee and contemplation,”

“HOPPER!”

Hopper groaned, looking over to where the D.A. stood at the boundary of the bullpen.

In an interview room, photographs of Neil fused to his car were spread across the table. Hopper looked at them and shrugged.

“This is the third in less than twenty-four hours. We’re gonna have to identify him through his teeth,”

“That’s T-Bird,” Hopper said. “Well, it’s T-Bird’s car. Wouldn’t let anyone else drive it. His specialty was arson… Looks like he zigged when he should have zagged. Case closed.” He pushed the photographs away.

The D.A. looked incredulous. “Bull-fucking-shit. You’re holding out on me. I got a goddamn vigilante killer knocking off scumbags left and right, and you are covering up for somebody… Who’s the cartoon character with the painted face?”

“I don’t know,”

“You don’t know? Gideon’s blows to hell, and you’re having a chitchat with some weirdo who winds up in T-Bird’s car when it zigs instead of zags? Then I hear you’re looking through old case files? Making calls to unlisted numbers? It’s dead now, you know. Whoever you called last night – the line is gone. And you’re saying this was just an automobile accident?! Come on!”

Hopper nodded. “That was… That was a good speech. Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt it. Did you write it down before or-”

“Alright smartass, well, here’s something written down for you. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your suspension,”

“Suspension? For what?” Hopper looked at the piece of paper handed to him, signed by the chief of police.

“Misconduct.” It was a stupid catch-all reason.

Hopper left his mug of coffee on his desk. Let that spoil and smell while everyone is busy with Devil’s Night.

Eddie was in the apartment going through anything that was left, when he heard the creak of the stairs. He hid.

“Eddie?” Max called, letting herself in. “I thought you were dead.” She saw smouldering remnants in the fireplace. She knew what the loft should look like. She’d been going there for a year. “I knew it was you. Even with the makeup.”

Eddie listened.

“I remembered your song… You said, ‘Can’t rain all the time.’ That is from your song, right?” She walked through the apartment. “Come on, Eddie. I know you’re here.”

The crow, Max looked up at it. The Night Watchman.

“I miss you guys. I get… lonely by myself.”

Nothing. Silence.

“Fine. Whatever. I thought you cared,” Max said, holding back tears. She grabbed her board.

“Max…”

Brenner and Grange watched Chance as he tried to tell a cohesive narrative. When Brenner slid a photo across the table, one of Corroded Coffin, Chance almost choked on his own insanity.

“YEAH! That’s him! That’s him! But he was painted up like some kind of fucking clown! T-Bird sent me in for some road beers. Then he took him away. And I tried to chase them down, but I don’t have a car, and he fucking flash fried T-Bird to his car. T-BIRD, here’s to you, buddy!”

“Maybe we ought to just videotape this, play it back in slow motion,” Brenner said to Grange.

Chance took a swig of whatever foul concoction he was drinking. “Fire it up! Fire it up!”

“You see the grave?” Brenner asked Grange.

“Empty,”

“Fire it- Grave? What about my fucking grave?!” Chance asked, getting too close to Brenner, and earning a hard shove from Grange.

“Three out of four. He’s working his way back to this speed freak right here,” Grange guessed.

“It’s not fair. It’s Funboy’s fault. He was out of control. Then T-Bird came in. He says to waste them both. Now this ghost is gonna kill my ass next!”

Brenner stood, bored of Chance’s breakdown. He lashed out, pistol whipping him hard. “There are no ghosts in my city.”

Hopper stopped at the hotdog stand. Max was already sitting there, not touching her food. Steve and Robin gave him a worrying look. They started to make his order.

“When someone’s dead, they can’t come back can they?”

“Are you referring to anyone in particular?”

“You’ll just think I’m nuts.”

Steve looked at Robin, mumbling, “I think she’s nuts.” Robin whipped him with drying towel.

Hopper said, “Yeah, well, then maybe they’ll have us both locked up,”

“You’ve seen him too?”

“I saw somebody… Maybe it was your fairy godmother,”

“Eddie didn’t come back for me… He can’t be my friend anymore because I’m… I’m alive…”

“Okay, but what does that mean, Max?” Steve asked.

Hopper looked from him to Max, gave her a look to which she returned a shrug.

“She tells us everything,” Robin said happily.

“Not everything,” Max mumbled.

“Most things. Told us about not-dead-Ed,”

“Can it, Harrington,” Max replied, throwing a piece of onion at him.

“Well, great. We can fill out the whole ward,” Hopper groaned, still finding it within himself to judge Robin’s mustard allocation. “Just let me-”

“Seriously though. Let’s say you both aren’t losing it. Say it really is this guy. Are you sure he actually died?” Steve questioned.

“Yeah. You don’t survive sev-” Hopper cut himself off. Max had looked over at him. She didn’t need to know the precise details. “I was there. And I was at the funeral,”

“They were closed caskets,” Max recalled.

Hopper nodded. “Yeah… But, Eddie… He died,”

“And now the same person is back? Not just someone that looks like him?” from Robin.

“Nah. Definitely him,” Max confirmed. It was the way he spoke to her, the words he chose. There was no mistaking anyone else for Eddie Munson.

“It’s like what you were telling us about the other day. The one about unfair deaths,”

“The raven,” Steve nodded solemnly.

“The crow,” Max corrected. The Night Watchman, she thought. Had she willed the lore into existence? Had her graveside story been a spell cast true?

“A crow?” Hopper asked.

Max told him the story of restless souls and wrongs made right. When she finished, all four friends grew silent. It was uncanny, how the myth fit the man.

“What happens when he’s done? Getting revenge, I mean?”

“He’s not getting revenge,” Max was quick to answer Steve. “He’s… he’s balancing the scales,”

“Think that depends on whose scales of justice you’re using there, kid,” Hopper grunted.

“As long as he sticks to those scumbags, the dude’s alright in my eyes,”

“Well as long as he’s alright in your eyes, Steve,” Robin scoffed.

“Steve’s right though,”

“I am?”

“No, I mean, not right, but about asking what happens next,” Max clarified. “How many are left? Just one, right?” she asked Hopper.

“Look, I don’t even know how you know-”

“Everyone heard when the Hargroves got got,” Steve whispered, as if saying their name could summon them from the dead too.

“Good riddance,” Max declared.

“Jesus… You didn’t hear it from me but… Yeah, just the one…” It would have been the right time to tell Max about you. He knew, in part, what happened after Eddie found Chance. He would look for you. He hadn’t really considered the mechanics of it all. What allowed Eddie to come back? What would it allow once the wrongs were righted? Would he die a second time, before he found you? If Neil and co. were acting on Brenner’s instruction, then would justice not include him?

“What is it?” Max asked him.

“Huh?” Hopper replied, shoving as much hotdog in his mouth as he could, stalling any further conversation.

Max used to figure all the things that went unsaid with Hopper were irrelevant to her. She was growing unsure of that. “When did you see him?”

“Crime scene,” Hopper got out, crumbs falling from his mouth.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Just the usual, you know… Freeze. Don’t move. Why do you look like a clown?” Hopper joked half-heartedly.

It was the joking that tipped Max off. She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, look. He just… kick started the memory. Implied there would be more… Vengeance… or whatever, and then disappeared.”

Max seemed to accept his statement; she turned her attention back to her food. Steve changed the subject to Ace Ventura and the night rolled on.

Evening, 30 October, 1995

While the crow scoured the city looking for Chance, Eddie played the guitar. It’s what he had always done when he didn’t know what else to do.

Above the club where Corroded Coffin had once played, above the mezzanine, in that cold room, Chance was shoved into a seat. Brenner started, “Gentlemen… It seems our friend T-Bird won’t be making it tonight, on account of a slight case of death…”

Eddie followed the crow, perched just outside the window of the meeting. The room was bustling with men. Guns, money, and plans were on the table. The shittiest D&D campaign table Eddie had ever witnessed.

“Well, Devil’s Night is upon us again. I thought we’d throw a party, start a bunch of fires, make a little profit. Problem is, its all been done before. You see what I’m saying?”

“That’s no reason to quit,” one of the men said.

“Wrong. Best reason to quit. Only reason to quit.” Brenner stood, and began a loop around the table. The gang leaders and thugs watched him walk. “A man has an idea… The idea attracts other like-minded individuals. The idea expands. The idea becomes an institution… What was the idea? See, that’s what’s been bothering me, boys. And I’ll tell you. When I used to think about the idea itself, it put a big old smile on my face. But… You see, gentlemen, greed is for amateurs.” Brenner returned to the head of the table. He looked at the men. “Disorder. Chaos. Anarchy. Now, that’s fun,”

“What about Devil’s Night?”

“What about it? I started the first fires in this goddamn city. Before I knew it, every charlatan was imitating me. Do you know what they have now? Devil’s Night greeting cards! Isn’t that precious,” Brenner said facetiously. “The idea has become the institution. Time to move on,”

“You don’t want us to do light-my-fire time for the whole city?”

“No… No, I want you to set a fire so goddamn big that the Gods will notice us again.”

The room cheered; Brenner was as close to a god as those men would ever get.

He continued, “I want all of you boys to be able to look me straight in the eye one more time and say, ‘Are we having fun or what?!’”

The men continued to cheer.

“And you? What’s your name again? Skank? Don’t you feel that?” Brenner asked.

“I f-f-feel like a little worm on a giant fucking hook,” Chance stuttered out. The men laughed at him.

“A little worm on a hook? Well, boy, your mama must be damn proud of you!”

The laughter and celebratory whoops died immediately upon the cawing of the crow, who landed on the table without a quiver of a feather.

Chance almost vomited. Most of the men looked confused. Grange stepped in front of Brenner while he himself took in the sight of this delivery of undead with both trepidation and glee.

End Note: Six down, two to go. I love ya'll. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson @princesssunderworld @qweencrimson @b-irock @writinginthetwilight @bornslippys @ali-r3n @lexr86 @eddiesgirl1944

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[hotdogmchiggin]

Company Mandated Fancy Fits on the Tulpar 😏

Also had to include the REAL star of the show (and a bonus)

Based off of this and this. Thank you very much joetastic for being inspirational 👍

The REAL reason this is late

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Do you love me? You imbecile.

[mirmalade]

not my usual but posting this cuz i’m going insane. akito finally beatboxing

[jesuis-assez]

Tags in Chenford gifsets

[vaguely-concerned]

from what I infer from some of his dialogue, my guess is that while lucanis hasn't had a proper relationship before he has had one night stands and short term flings. and -- listen, I know he's a dick and a menace and probably a hopeless case but please do still spare illario dellamorte a moment of your thoughts and pity for the role of incredulous yet intrepid wing man that he's all but certainly had to play on several occasions for that to happen. there are 100% people out there who were trying SO fucking hard to get no strings attached laid by this stupidly hot emotionally unavailable mysterious stranger who won't be in town for long without lucanis ever realizing it. people who would have remained tragically unlaid if illario weren't there to clue him in.

I'm just imagining Illario staring in pure dismay and disbelief at his dumbass of a cousin failing to pick up what someone isn't just putting down but scattering all over the floor like glittery confetti burning with a magnesium flame brightness to spell out 'SIR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE RAIL ME THIS IS AN OFFICIAL ENTHUSIASTIC INVITATION TO MY BED' and having to push him out the door after them like 'maker's breath sometimes i don't understand how you have the wits to grip the right end of a knife, lucanis, they were throwing themselves at you and you just stared at them in mild puzzlement until they gave up and went away go fucking GET THEM for the sake of my sanity if nothing else!!!'

[lostagoodcigar]

Brought to you by a tiktok where this guy was talking abt a girl he was seeing and how every time they had sex she’d give him a little treat afterwards (like a lil candy bar)

Like it starts when you jokingly toss Johnny one of the chocolates you had sitting on your nightstand after he ate you out like his life depended on it- he eats the candy immediately obviously as he laughs

Then you end up with a little candy dish on the nightstand, or in the drawer, any time you and Johnny have sex you give him a piece of candy, throw him a bone so to speak. Not on purpose but you think it’s cute- the way his face lights up when given the candy

You find yourself fucking somewhere in the house that isn’t the bedroom? Johnnys right behind you as you make your way to your shared room for his treat, not even realizing he’s doing it.

Whether you forget on purpose or on accident one day he just kinda stands in the kitchen like a kicked puppy and, “didn’t do somethin’ to upset ya did I hen?” His head tilted to the side slightly.

“What? No- what do you mean?” You are genuinely confused until he mumbles a “didn’t get my treat- ya know-“

You have to stop yourself from laughing as you ruffle his slightly overgrown mohawk before you’re off to the bedroom to toss him his little candy.

Honorable mention: I’d like to think Johnnys somehow ended up explaining this to the others, maybe just Ghost at first. And Ghost immediately understands it and is thankful his smile is covered by his balaclava- leave it to Johnny to get himself trained like a good dog

Basically what im trying to say is doing this to Soap would have him so down bad I think