#the thought of doing this shit for decades just exhausts me

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Personal shit in the tags

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

due to things lining up Horribly, no stream this weekend! and maybe not the next, either!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[muskpunk]

yooooooooo 5am ptsd flashback gacha pulls just dropped wooooooo yeah lets go gamers!!!!!

[dredshirtroberts]

today's one of them days where the bed nest (sleeping) and the bed nest (computer) are the same because everything sucks and i'm probably going to cry at some point. i rearranged the pillows i'm just going to hide under the covers now.

[sugar-coated-galaxies]

Lil vent post bc I just. Need to get it out ig

[iluvmattsbeard]

crawlin' back to you (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: heavy smut/strong language/drinking and smoking/ rough! matt/ a little degrading/arguing.

preview: you finally found a solution to get him out of your head. after a year of what felt like a decade of screaming and fighting, you felt the weight lifted from your shoulders until you open your front door, having everything come back to bite you in the ass.

a/n: ignore if it's bad. I wrote this past midnight.

it was a gloomy night in your apartment. you just had gotten out of the shower shivering as your feet touch the cold tile with a towel wrapped around your body. hot showers is what you needed after what happened last month.

last month is when you finally ended your one year relationship with your now ex, Matt. you loved Matt. so much it hurt leaving him more than the words that would come out of his mouth. but, the weight lifted off your shoulders knowing you can now live without the screaming and fighting.

you headed to your kitchen, where the lights were dim, and popped open a bottle of wine. that's all you could do recently. drown your thoughts out by drinking the red bitter liquid. you sat down by your window looking at the dark sky. the moon peeking through slightly. as you drank, you felt nothing.

moments later you were interrupted by a sound. you thought not much of it because you knew what type of apartment complex you were in. you didn't have a well paying job so you had to settle for less. an apartment complex with neighbors who didn't give a shit who was around.

suddenly, you heard a loud knock at your door. you turned your head towards the door wondering who could be knocking this late at night?

you got up walking towards the door as you hear another loud knock. you opened the door to a tall and lengthy man, covered in tattoos, with a cigarette in his mouth. Matt. you stayed silent as he stood there with heavy eye bags, exhaling the smoke out the side of his mouth.

"you missed me?" he says throwing the cigarette on the floor while crushing it. nothing came out of your mouth. what the fuck was he doing here? when you locked eyes, all you could think about was all the times you were screaming at each other over little things. Matt did not communicate well. his anger issues didn't help him either. you replay the night it all ended.

-FLASHBACK-

"why the fuck do you keep doing this!" Matt shouts angrily. "doing what?! saying the truth to your face?" you yelled following behind him. you guys were arguing at his place because you kept bringing up the fact he doesn't try as hard in this relationship. "you can give all your effort to everyone else but me? the fucking bare minimum?!" you shout waving your arms around showing frustration. "Jesus christ y/n. maybe because all you give me is a headache. you think about that?" he shoots back with his back still towards you. "if I give you such a headache, all the time, then why the fuck am I still here?" he lets out a laugh, "no one asked you to stay." you felt your stomach in a knot when he responded. you didn't even respond. you grabbed your stuff and stormed out of there. Matt groaned getting up chasing after you. "you're fucking ridiculous y/n. you know you'll come back." he yells out frustrated, "so don't even waste your time doing this shit." you ignored him as you got into your car. Matt then starts banging on your window. "come on!" he shouts. but you drove away. leaving him with rage.

-FLASHBACK ENDS-

even after that, he never texted or called. so why all of the sudden he shows up? who's the ridiculous one here? every night with him had both of you saying things that couldn't be said the next morning. every night, shit went down. but every morning? it was always normal. it was exhausting with him.

you snap back in the moment when you hear him speak, "let me in. it's cold out here." Matt says with a stern voice pushing past you. you turned around to look at him "I didn't say you can come in." you said. he leans back on the counter with his arms crossed looking at you up and down, "you didn't say anything at all so i took the opportunity to let myself in." he says. you scoff responding, "maybe because I have nothing to say to you Matt. you made us end up like this. you don't just show up unannounced." he chuckles speaking, "oh I made us like this? last I recall you walked out and drove away without a word." you stayed silent because you knew what he said was the truth.

he looks around as his eyes land at the wine bottle you left out, "drinking won't help get me off your mind."Matt says looking back at you. you felt a small shiver down your spine as you locked eyes. even though he had bright blue eyes, in this light, they were dark and cold. "what do you want?"you say looking away. he grins, "nothing really. just wanted to stop by." you scoffed, "to stop by? well don't waste your time. I don't want you here." he lets out a chuckle as he walks closer to you. you take a step back, backing into the front door. "you don't?" he says now standing directly in front of you. you took another gulp as you tried avoiding eye contact. he then grabs you by the chin making you look into his eyes. "because I was sort of hoping you'd let me stay." Matt continues in a low raspy voice, "use your words."

"I don't know what you want me to say." you said, not breaking eye contact. "I was hoping you would change your mind." he says while moving his other hand to your hip, slightly touching your skin. his hands were cold like always. you couldn't help but remember all of the times he's touched you. Matt gets closer to your face whispering "I know I can change your mind." "don't expect me to be crawlin' back to you after what you put me through." you say looking away.

he lets out a little laugh as he picks you up. "we'll see." he says. you wrap your arms and legs around him taken a back. as much as you meant the words that came out of your mouth, it was difficult keeping them.

as you guys get to your bedroom, he puts you down locking the door. "I won't do anything you don't want me doing." he says getting closer. your cheeks turn red as he pulls you in by your waist. "I want to know what's on your mind." he says slowly going to your neck leaving kisses. you close your eyes at the sudden movement, your mouth agape. "you." he laughs at your response. he then pushes you onto the bed. pinning your hands above your head, smashing his lips onto yours. you kiss back trying to move your hands but his grip was too strong.

Matt pulls away his lips not wasting any time reattaching them to your neck leaving marks. he then pulls up your shirt leaving you laying there with your tits out. he attaches his mouth to your left tit while playing with the other one with his free hand. you moan softly at the sudden action. you couldn’t believe it. just a moment ago you were wanting him gone. but he was irresistible. his tongue swirling around made you arch your back slightly.

he pulls away now sitting up unbuckling his belt, "give me your hands." he demands. you obey putting your hands out as he ties them together. Matt then pulls down his pants along with his boxers. a quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you see his length. you gulp at the sight. you forgot how big he was. especially because all the times you had sex with him it was always a blur. he then pulls down your pajama shorts, along with your panties. he was quick to do so. he has always been so eager. there was no doubt he practically craved you.

"you don't want me here?" he repeats the question he asks earlier touching your wet folds. you bite your lip softly from the touch of his cold fingers. "because this tells me differently." Matt then kisses you again, hungrily as he grips your neck. he knew he had you right where he wanted. he pulls away looking into your eyes, "now, be a good girl okay?" he whispers. you nod hesitantly at his choice of words. he then takes off his black leather jacket, throwing it on the floor, along with his white tank. you swallow as you stare at him. you knew he was bad for you. but why did he have to look so good?

he crawls back on top of you. he inserts into you without any warning. you let out a moan with wide eyes. Matt shooting you a look. you can tell he's been wanting this. he wastes no time by picking up the pace. you wrap your legs around him as you moan loudly each time he pounds into you. "why are you being so loud? hm? I thought I wasn't wanted here?" he says still pounding into you hitting the right spot each time. you're now rolling your eyes still moaning at how good It feels. "you should see yourself. pathetic. I know you missed this." you don't respond by the fact you can't make up any words right now. but it gets him irritated. Matt then grabs your face roughly making you closer to his face. "talk to me."

you swallow as you try to speak, "i-i missed this." he gives a slight smirk, "I know you did. you know nobody else will fuck you like this." he kisses you again with the same hungry feeling. "you fuck me so good!" you practically scream out. but all he does is kiss you again shutting you up. all the memories of the screaming and fighting subsided. you couldn’t help but give in. as much as you were angry at Matt, he sure knew how to please you. he then lifts one of your legs and puts it on his shoulder going deeper. he grabs your face and tells you to open your mouth. which you do. he spits in your mouth, “that’s right. you listen.” he says.

as he continues pounding into you, you feel the knot in your stomach build up. he was hitting every spot so good you felt your legs starting to hurt from being held up. you clench around his dick from the sensation. releasing all over him, arching your back moaning. he pulls out, “fuck you’re so beautiful.” he spits out pulling you up getting his dick close to your face, "open." he demands stroking. you open your mouth as he releases inside of it with a groan. "fuck." he mutters. you swallow every single bit.

you look at the sight in front of you. a sweaty and heavy breathing Matt. a sight you missed. he catches you staring. now smiling at you, he brings his hand up to your mouth and wipes the corner of it because of the load you just had swallowed.

he gets up putting his clothes back on. you pull the covers over your still naked body. "you're leaving?" you say with a little disappointment on your face. Matt looks at you while buckling his belt with a smirk, "you want me to stay?" you think for a bit but you responded with a nod. he lets out a laugh coming close to your face. he gives you a small kiss while bringing his mouth to your ear, "I knew you'd be crawlin' back to me." he whispers. a shiver rolls down your spine as your cheeks turn red. he got you there with that one.

a/n: again, sorry if it sucks. when I listen to this song it reminds me of matt lmao. this is my first time writing so I would appreciate the support! like, comment, reblog, or however this works! thank you!

[thatfreshi]

Hi! Can I request a story about Tav having trouble fighting cause Astarion just fed on her and so he gets worried and protective ofc. Maybe they were ambushed at camp or something? Thank you so much for your work! I really like how you write Astarion

Tw - animal attack, lots of gore, themes of death

Recommended Song: Seek and Destroy - SZA

Against better judgment, you let Astarion feed on you almost every night. It's just one of those things, a sacrifice you make, an act of love. After decades of disrespect, scavenging for next to nothing, you thought it'd be nice for him to have something better than animals. While he always insists it isn't necessary, he never passes you up on the offer. A ritual before bed every night, like a lover's embrace, you've come to adore the feeling of his teeth.

This evening in particular, he took quite a bit. You don't mind, considering you go to bed almost right after. Light-headed, woozy, you're wrapped up in his arms.

"Thank you darling."

His embrace almost feels warm when you're this drained. You almost drift off, but he keeps you awake.

"Tav, you need to eat something first."

You groan, absolutely exhausted, trying to keep him in the bedroll.

"Nooo, I'll just do it tomorrow."

He smiles, moving your hair out of your eyes.

"That's not how it works my sweet. Now, let me get up so I can-"

Goblin war drums. The sound of the percussive rhythms bouncing off all the trees, they're not far off, and Astarion knows they're on the way. Karlach starts making her way to every tent, telling your companions to get their asses in gear.

"Tav, Astarion, let's go!"

"Shit."

Astarion whispers to himself. You're still not fully there, in and out of sleep.

"What's going on?"

Double vision, you see two of your vampire lover get up and start rummaging around for his daggers.

"Just- just stay here Tav. It's alright."

You try to rub at your eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what's going on. Before you can ask again, he's gone, and you hear more war drums outside. You quickly realize it's goblins. They must've found where you've been hiding, but your head is still spinning. Trying to get up and grab your blade, you almost fall back to the ground. Steadying yourself for a moment, you try your best to listen to what's going on outside. It sounds deadly, metal, screams. You hear Shadowheart casting left and right.

When you manage to stumble out of the tent, you're tackled by one of their dogs, or whatever wretched things they are. A scream rips out of your throat, trying to hold the thing off. It bites rabidly at your arm, leaving numerous gashes, until it's thrown off of you and stabbed to death, relentlessly.

"Gods damnit, I told you to stay in the tent Tav!"

You're too worried about your arm throbbing in pain to care about the validity of his argument. He's angry, and perhaps both of you aren't entirely certain why. It's your dominant arm, you can barely move it. Astarion goes to wrap your arm, but is quickly overpowered by the numbers again. They must've sent a large party after the lot of you. Halsin and Shadowheart are running out of magic, already drained. It's bad, but it'll end soon. With a couple more fights and a thunderwave from Gale, the rest of the goblins scurry off, knowing they're fighting a losing battle. Astarion doesn't even stop to loot their corpses, running to your side.

"You're a fucking idiot Tav, you know that?"

Gods, he could sound so mean when he wanted to. You know he says those things out of fear, but they still hurt. Despite how angry he is, he starts ripping pieces of cloth from his shirt, wrapping your arm, which is bleeding far too fast. Shadowheart and Halsin come over to supervise, both out of arcana until they get some rest.

"Yes, the two of you standing over my shoulder is quite helpful. Might as well cheer me on while you're at it!"

His movements are ragged, furious, only making your arm hurt more than it does. He's lost though, somewhere in his head, unable to hear the cries of pain as he's wrapping your arm. You're even more lost than before, your blood leaving rapidly.

"Aster, I-"

"Hush."

He then realizes you were going to tell him you were about to pass out, because you almost immediately fall over.

"Damnit!"

He holds you in his arms, your limb still not fully wrapped.

"If the two of you want to be helpful, get me some actual bandages instead of gawking at me!"

Sure, Astarion hates doing things that require hard work, but he knows how. How many times did he have to do something like this to himself, when no one was there to help wrap his wounds? Shadowheart quickly returns with all of the bandage wraps she has.

"We have to clean it or it'll get infected."

"Well, Shadowheart, I don't know how you think you're going to clean it if Tav bleeds to death."

The two healers decide it's best if he handles this himself. While he obsessively wraps your arm, the rest of the camp watches on, knowing he's too possessive to let them help. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you.

And I trusted you to stay put.

There's no way to give you more blood, not in a way that would work for you. For a moment, he simply thinks that he'll feed you some of his blood, and then he remembers. All he can do is hope you retained enough, that he didn't preemptively kill you by feeding on you tonight. Your pulse is still going, but it's slow, and you're paler than usual.

Astarion begins to think to himself, asking why he ever fell in love, why he ever let himself think twice about you. It's easy to play the game when you have nothing to lose. Second thoughts, always, he's always thinking for two people now. It's been his survival, for as long as he can remember, and now you're lodged in his brain.

"Damn you Tav, I can't do this. I can't lose you like this."

He begins to sob as he holds you, still unconscious. This beckons Gale to come over, often a voice of reason for the vampire.

"You've done all you can. Perhaps we should get Tav back inside? Away from the elements?"

Astarion is too distraught to argue, helping Gale carry you back into the tent.

"The second Shadowheart is awake, she'll be back to check on Tav."

"Yeah, if they don't die from blood loss in the middle of the night."

Gale simply sighs, knowing there's no point in fighting with him. He leaves your pale lover to wallow in his misery. Hours pass, you're still clinging on, and Astarion watches over you, panicking every time he can't see your chest rise and fall, constantly checking your pulse. You're cold, your heartbeat dangerously slow, and he keeps wracking his brain about what else he could possibly do. But there's nothing, only fate, only the gods. He sadly chuckles to himself at the thought of even trying to pray, knowing there's no higher power out there, at least one that cares about him.

"W... what are you... laughing at?"

You ask weakly, oblivious to the horrific stress he's been through. Astarion whips around quickly, wondering if perhaps he's imagining your voice. When he sees your eyes fluttering, lost somewhere between dreams and reality, he rushes to your side.

"Oh gods Tav... you- you really scared me there."

He tries to hold back tears, failing miserably. You try to speak again, but groan in pain as the feeling in your arm starts to come back.

"I know, I know it hurts. It's okay my darling, you'll be alright."

He begins fully sobbing, and you have no idea why, without being awake enough to comprehend the situation. Astarion always tries to be strong when you're weak, but watching you teeter on the line between life and death, it was simply too much to bear.

"You can't pull that shit, ever again my love, I'm so serious. I know I'm normally quite serious, but ever more so right now."

Then, a joyful, tiny laugh. Happiness. Happy that you're alive. The memories of the fight slowly start coming back, the beast that ripped up your arm, Astarion yelling.

"Aster...?"

"Yes my dear?"

You start to tear up a little, still a tad delirious.

"I'm sorry."

And then remembers as well, the things he said, the tone he spoke to you in.

"No, no my love I'm sorry. You weren't yourself, I was being entirely unreasonable. I just..."

He almost can't finish his sentence.

"I'm just happy you're okay. That's enough for me."

Your lover slowly and carefully lays down beside you, pulling you into him, being sure not to let your wounded arm drag on the ground. He holds you for a long time, until Shadowheart wakes at dawn, fully rested and ready to fix your wounds. Astarion vows silently that he'll never let it come that close, ever again.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 18 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna's life in California is everything she never thought she could have. If she can convince Kevin to agree to her terms, she can be free of him once and for all. She is finally starting to understand how much easier it is when you have people who care about you and are willing to help you along the way.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Anna felt like she was still in shock. Bob humored her when they got back to his house by setting up shop at his dining room table and letting her sit on his lap while she read through some parts of her manuscript and copied everything from Kevin's computer to her own. Bob even let her save it to his personal cloud account and gave her permission to change the password to whatever she wanted it to be.

"I trust you," she whispered, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

He kissed her cheek and said, "I want you to change it. To anything you want. That way you'll know it's secure."

She only thought about it for a few seconds before she started typing out the new password, and she said it out loud as she entered it.

"ILOVEBOBFLOYD. All caps. All one word."

Anna could feel the tip of his nose press against her ear as he murmured, "You do? In all caps?"

She'd all but told him she did in his truck barely a few hours ago, but he deserved to hear it with her whole heart behind it. She turned to face him on his lap and said loud and clear, "I love you."

His lips met hers in a kiss so intentional, she wasn't at all surprised when he broke it a moment later to once again confirm, "I love you, too."

She was still wearing Jessica's cocktail dress and a full face of makeup, but she told Bob, "I'm ready for bed."

He definitely knew what she meant. His chair went skidding across the floor behind him as soon as he stood with Anna in his arms, and she let him carry her upstairs to his bedroom. She was already so used to sharing his bed, and now that she had her manuscript, everything felt like it made more sense. The instant connection they had. The way she already knew his writing before she met him. The fact that she was also friends with his friends now. It felt right. And so did his lips on the inside of her ankle after he set her on her back on the bed.

Anna kicked off the shoes, and Bob shook his head as he let his hand slide up her leg to her knee and then her thigh. "You're incredible. If I could make you mine, I would."

He seemed more than willing to give her the time she needed, but she already knew exactly what she wanted. "I promised you I'd get my shit together," she said with a smile as she started to wiggle out of the borrowed cocktail dress. "Don't give up on me."

"I won't."

She was going to get everything she needed tomorrow. She was determined. But right now all she wanted was Bob. She inched the fabric up slowly, and his hands were on her hips, rubbing her most decadent pair of underwear between his fingers.

"All these freckles," he said reverently, tracing them with his knuckles as she finally yanked the dress over her head. "Covering every inch of you." He was touching her inner thigh, scraping his nails along her underwear, driving her closer to the point of begging for him. Then she realized what this was. He was worshipping her. And he was just getting started.

When his lips found her ankle again and started making their slow journey up to her knee, she wanted to have this forever. She wanted his body above hers and underneath. She wanted him to make her come and then clean her up before destroying her again by pulling her close and keeping her there all night. Anna just wanted to belong here with Bob.

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

Bob was exhausted when his alarm started blaring at five o'clock in the morning on Tuesday. He and Anna had been at it most of the night, and he could see the proof in the dark circles smudge beneath her eyes as she dozed with her cheek on his chest. She was naked and warm and glued to his side with her fingers in his sparse patch of chest hair. He was desperate for the two of them to get through the morning. If Kevin didn't simply agree to these final terms, he didn't know what the hell he was going to do. He needed Anna to be rid of him so they could move forward. Together.

"Baby, we need to get up," he whispered, voice cracking softly from lack of use after yelling her name in pleasure a few hours ago. And maybe a little bit from nerves. It had been awful for him to stand outside of the hotel in Carlsbad and simply wait for Anna to make it out safely. He wouldn't be doing that today, but the nerves were still kicking in on her behalf.

"Mmkay," she mumbled, trying to stay in her serene state of slumber even as he pulled the blanket away from their bodies. He needed today to happen in the same way Anna had needed her manuscript back. Now that she had that much, he couldn't stop thinking about what came next.

Bob kissed her freckled cheek and whispered, "Anna. It's Tuesday. Kevin is probably flying back home today. Let's go."

She sat up a bit abruptly with her hair sticking out at a weird angle and a look of surprise on her face. "Let's go," she murmured before climbing out of bed. 

The plan was to get up there and get back before either of them were unforgivably late for work. Bob would stick by her side the whole time. He wouldn't let anything happen to her ever again. The two of them got dressed quickly, and Bob left Anna to gather up the computer to return to Kevin along with the freshly printed out documents from her lawyers. He made coffee and poured two bowls of cereal, only poking at his until Anna came downstairs in jeans, an oversized sweatshirt and a messy braid.

"It's not even six o'clock yet. Should I call Kevin?" she asked, toying with the charger cable for the computer. "I just wish I could do this without having to see him again."

"Same," Bob agreed, reaching for her hand. "Eat something first, and then you can call Kevin and I'll call Jess."

Anna let him take her hand and coax her into the empty chair, and he watched as she ate her cereal very slowly. She looked small and scared this morning, nothing like she had last night. But he didn't want her to give up now that she had the upper hand. When she finally finished eating, he kissed her cheek before he stood and said, "I'll clean up while I call Jess and tell her about your manuscript. Just finish your coffee and try to relax, and then I'll hold you while you call Kevin."

She nodded up at him, unshed tears glittering in her eyes as she whispered, "Thank you."

When Jessica answered her phone on the second ring, she still sounded a little groggy. "Sorry, I know it's early," Bob said as he rinsed the cereal bowls. 

"Everything okay?" she asked with a yawn.

"Yeah. I just wanted to let you know that Anna doesn't need a ride to work today."

"Are you taking her?"

He glanced out into the dining room where she was still sipping her coffee and looking through the paperwork. "No. We're going on a bit of a mission up in Carlsbad this morning."

"Sounds like a D&D adventure in real life."

Bob smiled and had to contain his laughter. If anyone could make him feel better about all of this, it was Jessica. "I wish your Barbarian character was real. Might come in handy today."

He could hear Jake's voice in the background now, but Jessica hushed him as she said, "Wait. Does this have to do with Kevin? Just like the cocktail dress and the wedding rings?"

Bob's voice was hoarse as he said, "Yeah. And hopefully this will be the end of it. The conference he's attending is wrapping up." He sighed and said, "She got her manuscript back, but she wants to tie up all the loose ends."

"She got it back?!"

Bob yanked the phone away from his ear at her loud screech. "Yeah," he added quickly. "But Jess, she has to see him face to face again today, and he's going to be less than thrilled about what she did." He looked back out into the dining room and quickly said, "I need to go so we can head out. I'll call you later."

"Bob! You take care of her!"

He ended the call before he said another word. This was one thing Anna needed to initiate herself.

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

"You can do it," Bob coaxed as Anna sat on his thigh and unlocked her phone. "You're so strong, and you've come some far."

"Yeah," she muttered, looking at Kevin's contact information. "All the way to California."

"Baby, you have your manuscript," he said, and she smiled.

"I guess I have come pretty far." She took a few deep breaths while Bob rubbed her back with his big hand. "Okay. I'm doing it."

As soon as Anna tapped Kevin's name, a chill ran through her body. She kept trying to tell herself he was in control here. More than anything, she wanted to be in control.

"Anna," he snapped as soon as he answered his phone. "What the fuck do you want?"

She swallowed hard and grabbed at the edge of the table to keep herself grounded. "Kevin."

"I don't have time for your bullshit right now. I'm trying to leave this conference, and something is missing from my hotel room. I have housekeeping trying to track down anything that might have-" He cut his sentence short, and Anna shook as soon as he spoke again. "It was you. Wasn't it?" His words were void of emotion. "Somehow you took my computer."

Part of her wanted to argue that technically it was their computer, but she thought better than to do that quite yet. "I don't even want it. You can have it back. I'll be at your hotel in about an hour. I'll meet you in the lobby."

Anna ended the call with shaky hands and looked back at Bob. He was smiling softly at her. "I'm ready to leave when you are."

On the drive back up to Kevin's hotel, traffic was heavy, which gave her ample time to freak out. What if her husband had called the police? What if they were waiting in the lobby with him? What if they could find a way to pin everything on Anna? Could they somehow take her manuscript away again? Even from Bob's account?

"You're okay," Bob reminded her as she held tightly to his hand.

She nodded. "I just want him to go away now."

"He will," Bob assured her. "Back to New Jersey. And you'll stay here. With me."

With Bob. With the man of her dreams. It seemed too good to be true, but here he was, offering. "I like the way that sounds." She watched as he drove along the now familiar streets of a town she wished she didn't know, and then all too soon, he was parking his truck.

Wordlessly, Bob climbed out and then helped her down. Anna held the computer, charger and the paperwork to her chest as they made their way up the sidewalk in the early morning sunlight. The air from the ocean was crisp and cool, but she felt warm with Bob's steady hand at her back. When they walked through the doors into the hotel lobby, Anna muttered, "There he is."

Kevin's gray eyes were glued to her every movement as she nodded at Bob before taking a step away from him. He let her go toward her husband who looked raging mad, and when she was close enough to see his nostrils flare, his big hand reached out and wrapped around her bicep, dragging her toward a quiet corner.

"Ouch," she gasped, and she could hear Bob behind her immediately. 

"Don't touch her."

Kevin's gaze moved between the two of them, and now that Bob was standing just behind her, Anna knew he wasn't going to leave them alone for a private conversation at this point.

"Maybe you'd be better served minding your own business," Kevin snapped, clearly unafraid of the two of them. Then he focused solely on Anna as he said, "Now why don't you go ahead and hand my computer over to me after you tell me how you got it in the first place. I have a conference to close out in twenty minutes."

She bit her lip to try to stay calm. She already knew they only had a few minutes here since she had the entire conference schedule memorized. "Sign this for me first." It was impossible to hide the way her hand was shaking as she handed him the paperwork.

Kevin simply laughed as he looked at it. "I'm assuming you took your manuscript, so if you think I'm going to sign anything for you, then you're a fucking moron, Anna. You want to finalize a divorce? Fuck you. No."

"Don't talk to her like that," Bob growled, but he was largely ignored as Kevin continued on.

"You want to discuss legal documents?" he asked, holding up the new details of a divorce agreement she desperately wanted his signature on. "How about I call the police and let them know you broke into my hotel room?"

"I didn't," she snapped in response. "I outsmarted you."

Kevin's cheeks grew red as he pulled his lips into a thin line, and Anna was so thankful she wasn't here alone. "There is no version of reality in which that's even a remote possibility. But I'd be more than happy to let the police decide."

He started reaching for his phone when she said, "This is as much my computer as yours, Kevin. I don't even want it anyway. I got my writing from it, and you can have it back."

He shook his head at her like she was a small child and said, "You still broke into my room."

"I didn't." He was dialing something on his phone now with the papers from her lawyer half crumbled up in his hand, and she felt tears in her eyes. She was suddenly terrified that he'd be able to find a way to abuse the system and take advantage of their marital status just like she had. "What about Alyssa? She thinks we have a finalized agreement," she blurted out, heart pounding so hard, it was making her sick. "What about your career? You'll miss the end of the conference."

Bob's warmth at her back couldn't combat Kevin's icy stare. "I'll deal with Alyssa when I get home. She'll just have to get over the fact that you and I will remain married indefinitely."

His career. He was more concerned about his career than any relationship, and she knew it. "I have nothing to lose," she said, voice barely a harsh whisper. "I'll go into the conference room right now. You're at the top in your field. How embarrassing for everyone to find out that you got Alyssa pregnant when you're actually still married to me."

"I would like to see you try," Kevin snapped, closing the distance between them as he tucked his phone away again. His face was just inches from hers as the first tear trickled down her cheek.

"You need to back up before I make you," Bob said in a calm but threatening tone, and finally Kevin's attention moved to him.

"If you so much as try to touch me, I will tear up this bullshit paperwork, and then I will level you to the ground."

The tears were falling faster now. The last thing Anna wanted was for Bob to get hurt in any way. A punch to the gut he would recover from, but she knew Kevin wouldn't stop until his career in the Navy was obliterated if he found out where he worked. The idea of having a panic attack in front of these two men was more than she could handle, but she was almost there. "If you touch him or tear up the paperwork, I'll go right into the conference room, and you can't stop me."

Kevin rounded on her again immediately. "You are pitiful. You can barely handle doing anything by yourself, because you're not smart enough. I don't know how you think you could possibly intimidate me now when you never had the balls to do anything!"

Anna heard an incensed gasp somewhere behind her, and then a familiar voice practically shouted, "She has huge balls! Enormous! And she's way smarter than you!"

Kevin looked taken aback as he glanced past Bob and Anna, and when she spun around, she found Jessica leading the troops across the hotel lobby, adjusting her glasses before her hand curled into a fist.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kevin barked, but this time it was Jake who responded.

"It looks like you've got a bigger problem than you planned for," he drawled easily, wrapping his hand around Jessica's waist to keep her at bay as she tried to get closer to Kevin. "So why don't you just go ahead and do as the lady says and sign the paper."

"I'm only going to ask this one more time," Kevin replied, but his voice was much more subdued now. "Who the fuck are you people?"

Anna's other friend rolled her eyes in response like she was bored of this entire scene already. "Haven't you ever made a friend before, Kevin? Or have you always been such a prick that nobody would ever have your back?" She reached into her pocket of her tweed jacket as Kevin's face grew red again, and she pulled out a pen. Then she turned toward her husband and kissed him on the cheek. "Do you think he might be able to figure out how to sign his name if he had a pen, Beer Boy?" she asked him sweetly.

Bob reached for Anna's shaking hand as Bradley took the pen and held it up directly in front of Kevin's face. His smile was devilish and his biceps looked massive as he said, "Your problems are going to keep growing if you don't learn how to use a pen real fast. Didn't you go to medical school or something? I thought you'd be a bit less dense."

Now Kevin was looking around the lobby in every direction, but Anna saw Natasha pop up about twenty feet behind him, sipping from a Starbucks cup as she gave him the middle finger. He was truly surrounded, and now Anna was crying for a very different reason while Bob squeezed her fingers in his.

"Just sign it and let her go," Bob said, voice pleading in a way that made her heart clench. "Let her be with the people who care about her. That's all she wants."

Finally, Kevin snatched the pen out of Bradley's hand before actually reading the paperwork. It was straightforward. It was the new terms of their divorce now that she had her manuscript. She didn't want anything else from him. It was a clean cut. A real ending. Just his signature would suffice, and it would be the beginning of the end of this nightmare. Anna was holding her breath as time ticked away. Kevin's eyes drifted up to examine his surroundings one more time, and that's when Jake and Bradley crowded in on either side of Bob. If Anna didn't already know they were both sweeter than puppy dogs, she would have been scared of them. And that must have done the trick.

Kevin clicked the pen, took the laptop from her hand, and signed the document from her lawyer on top of it. Then he shoved the pen and papers back into Anna's hands with nothing but a hard stare. "Don't try to come after me for a single penny in the future," he muttered as he started walking off with the computer.

"Don't worry," Anna called as she verified he had signed everything, her heart fluttering with elation. "You'll never hear from me again."

"Fuck Kevin!" Jessica said, loud enough that more and more people in the lobby were looking their way as Kevin strode toward his conference room.

"Guess he didn't want the shit kicked out of him," Bradley said, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind.

Anna laughed which immediately turned into a sob, and she threw her arms around Jessica. "I don't know how you knew what was happening today, but thanks for coming here."

"Don't mention it," she replied, giving Anna a squeeze. "And you can thank us by being so sweet to Bob."

"I will," Anna promised before hugging her other friend and Bradley at the same time. Then she wrapped Jake in a quick hug while Natasha finished her coffee.

"Please, don't. It's too early for a hug," the other woman grumbled with the cup in her hand. "I only get up at this hour to fly or kick someone's ass, and I didn't get to do either of those yet."

"I can respect that," Anna told her before launching herself at Bob. She was welcomed into his arms along with the signed paperwork, and he kissed her long and hard, surrounded by their friends. Nobody seemed to be too concerned with what they were doing now as Bradley and Natasha started discussing whether or not there was time to stop for breakfast on the way to work. Anna kissed Bob back while Jake reminded Jessica that they had dinner plans. She really felt like she was one of them now.

"Hey," Bob whispered, forehead pressed to hers as he broke the kiss. "You were incredible. Standing up to Kevin like that."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "I couldn't have done it without you. Without all of you."

Bob pulled her closer in his arms and said, "Yes, you definitely could have. But it would have taken longer, and it would have been harder. You don't need to be afraid to ask for help, Anna. We've all got your back."

She pulled away a little bit more and looked at his beautiful blue eyes and his eager face. "I finally free free," she told him with a smile

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?"

Anna nodded, never wanting him to question any of it again. "I love you, Bob. I'm staying here. I'm staying with you."

There was still so much she wanted to tell him and so much she wanted to do, but she ended up getting a ride to work from Jessica after all. And the first thing she did when she got to her office was email copies of the signed paperwork to her lawyer. Then, after she gave her Classics lecture, she ate lunch by the weird looking tree with the two kindest women she had ever met in her life. When her phone pinged with a new email, she opened it to read perhaps the most poetic and beautiful sentence in the English language from her lawyer. 

Everything is in order, and we already started the ball rolling for your speedy divorce from Kevin.

She carried those words with her for the rest of the day, and eventually Anna was alone in her office when Bob knocked on her door, ready to pick her up.

"I thought we could stop at Chippy's to celebrate with the best peanuts in San Diego," he whispered against her lips when she greeted him with a kiss. "And then we can go home."

She nodded up at him, pushing her fingers through his soft hair. "Home. Where I can start the long and intense process."

Anna tried not to laugh as Bob's brow creased with concern. "What process?"

She let her hand trail down his uniform shirt to all of his pins until her palm was resting over his heart. "The process of letting all of my books mix and mingle with yours on the living room shelf."

His expression melted into the most charming smile. "I can hardly wait."

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

Ahhhh!!!!! Bye, Kevin! I love this friend group with my whole heart, and I have loved writing about them! One more part to go! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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[buckyalpine]

A little longer

HI MY BEAUTIFUL 🐚ANON!! I adore this so much, I adore YOU so much, as always, your requests are everything!! 

Warnings: So so much fluffy fluff, angst if you really squint till your eyes go cross-eyed and blurry

-

"It's been decades. Not even a couple years. Almost a century. You probably shoot dust. Or whatever your bionic ass reproduces with"

Bucky contemplated throwing his half finished milkshake at Sam's head while they both scarfed down burgers from a late night diner after a taxing mission. Sam was pestering Bucky yet again about his nonexistent social and lack of a love life, a topic he seemed to get high off of. 

“For fucks sake Sam-”

"You need to get out more man, at least start dating. You don't need a whole girlfriend but a few dates wouldn't kill you. Or maybe it would, since you're what, 106?"

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, his patience wearing thin. Dating wasn’t for him, not because he didn’t want to date but because he wasn’t sure who would even date him. He’d only just gotten comfortable talking to Sam though he’d never openly admit he actually enjoyed their conversations. He wasn’t exactly the most approachable, Peter had once told him he had a resting bitch face, whatever that meant. He wasn’t the most tech savvy unless it involved doing something illegal. He had a plethora of devices that could take down the US government at the push of a button he secrecy hoarded under his bed but God forbid someone ask him to pose for their Instagram story.  

Talking to a pretty girl was a completely different story. What would he even talk about? His time before the war involved a lot of nursing an injured or sick Steve back to health. After the war and his time in Hydra, he didn’t really have time for himself. He liked plums. The hobbit. He was thinking about getting a cat. Bucky internally groaned, maybe he’d find a girlfriend at the retirement home down the street; at least they’d have things in common. 

Sam cocked an eyebrow while Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. Usually he’d respond with a grumpy pout or complete silence but today his exhaustion had caught up with him. He debated on how to get Sam of his back, a dim, flickering, half broken bulb going off in his sleep deprived brain. 

"I already have a girlfriend Tweety bird"

The deafening silence that followed that statement made it clear both men were aware that was a lie. Sam snorted, shaking his head while they both finished they food, slapping a $50 on the counter before leaving. He looked at the super soldier, deciding not to press into the issue further for the night but he definitely wasn’t going to let it go that easily. 

5:30 AM

The buzz of his phone jolted him awake, the faint sound of the TV still playing in the background. Bucky felt around for his phone, tossing his sheet off, sitting up from his place on the floor seeing Sam’s caller ID light up the screen. 

“What are you doing next Saturday” Sam sounded unusually chipper, a hint of a smirk in his voice, a suspicious amount of enthusiasm for such an early hour. 

“Why” Bucky groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes, going back to lying down. 

“Were having a cookout over the weekend, you should come”

“You woke me up to tell me what could have been a text message?” Bucky asked incredulously, closing his eyes, ready to let sleep free him from such a ridiculous conversation. 

“Ooo, white panther knows how to text now” 

“White Wolf” Bucky grumbled, regretting every telling Sam the name he had been given in Wakanda. “I’ll come if you just let me go back to sleep” 

"Alright, but bring your girl too"

There it was. 

He could feel the shit eating grin Sam was giving him over the phone, eye brows wigging up and down, all his perfect teeth out. 

“Whatcha say Barnes?” 

Sleep had disappeared into thin air as Bucky shot up, mentally kicking himself for the nonsense he’d gotten himself into. He fiddled with the corner of his sheet, hoping to find an out. 

"I thought you only invited family" 

"Hey, anyone that you're allowing within 3 feet of your personal space might as well be considered family" Sam snorted, not believing a single word Bucky had said the night before. The conversation moved on to a different topic, easing some of Bucky’s nerves. A whole hour had passed and Bucky was sure he was in the clear until-  

“Back to the matter at hand, you bringing her or not?” 

“Why are you like this, does being Captain America always come with the caveat with also being a pain in my ass, I’m not going to-”

Bucky was about to refuse until a knock at the door pulled him away from the conversation, the scent of fresh pancakes wafting through the door. He pulled himself up, a smile tugging on his lips, knowing exactly who was on the other side, not needing to check as he untangled himself from the sheets. 

His sweet neighbor. 

Bucky wasn’t religious and he wasn’t a big believer in a higher power but there had to be something out there when people like you existed. Whenever Sam asked him why he stayed in the dingy little apartment that barely had windows and a closet for a bedroom, he’d insist it was because he preferred a small space and was still getting used to living a normal life so he wasn’t ready for another move just yet. 

The part he always left out was that his dingy apartment came with an absolute angle that lived next door. Kind hearted. Sweet. An absolute darling. You were one of the first people he’d interacted with when he moved in. All the nerves he had about living alone and growing accustomed to a regular life melted away the first day, when you came over with a plate of fresh cookies. 

He felt like a little boy whenever you were around, having the biggest crush on the prettiest girl on the playground, his mind going to mush whenever you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. Nope. No....? No. He narrowed his eyes at himself before making his way to the door. 

“Buck? Did your tongue rust-” 

“I’ll uh-I’ll think about it” He mumbled before cutting the call, a bashful smile on his face as he unhooked the chain and swung the door open. “G’morning doll” 

“Good Morning” You grinned, handing Bucky the plate which he gratefully accepted, his stomach rumbling between the butterflies that fluttered in his tummy. “I heard you get in last night, didn’t think you’d have time to do a grocery run or cook anything” You handed him a bag of fruits and vegetables, two of those bags full of plums. His favorite. 

“You didn’t have to do all this” If his cheeks grew any warmer he would’ve sworn he was running a fever. And he didn’t get fevers. 

“You’re out saving the world, I think getting you a few groceries is the least I could do. So, how’s the new Captain?” You had never met Sam in person but hearing enough stories from Bucky told you all you needed to know. No one else was better suited to take on the shield than him. 

“A pain in my ass even if he means well” Bucky smiled shaking his head to himself. “He’s been pestering me to get out more...start dating” He mumbled the last part, wincing. He’d fought off aliens, gone to battle alongside a tree and a talking raccoon, survived being help captive by Hydra but being boyfriend material? His flirting game was as strong as pre serum Steve's right hook. 

“Well, handsome solider like you, shouldn’t be too hard to find you a date” You felt your own face heat up as soon as the words left your mouth but wasn’t like it was a secret. There was no way he would have had trouble in the dating department; aside from being one of the most beautiful people you’d laid your eyes on he was also the sweetest. Bucky was nothing but a gentleman and with a pure and soft heart and if you didn’t get your shit together and control the way he made you weak in the knees-

“Not the same ladies man I was in the 40′s doll” He chuckled, blue eyes sparkling at your compliment, “Either way, I got myself into a mess with that” He smiled sheepishly while you cocked your head, urging him to continue. 

“Well, I sort of lied to get him off my case” Bucky blushed, rubbing the back of his head, his the pink on his cheeks deepening at your cheeky smile. “I-I told him I already have a girlfriend but as you can see-” Bucky waved into his empty apartment that showed no signs of human life, “-it back fired immediately because he's invited my nonexistent girlfriend to a cookout this weekend. In Louisiana. With all his family. And friends”

Bucky let his head hit the wall with a dull thump, cursing himself for putting a foot in his mouth. Sure he could just come clean and say he lied. But that would mean admitting he lied and that was worse because then Sam would give him shit for that, plus try to get him out more and- 

“What if- what if I went with you?” Bucky’s head shot up, blinking in surprise at your words, wondering if he heard you correctly. “I could pretend to be your girlfriend for a day, get Cap off your case. Only if you’re comfortable with it though”

“Really? You’d do that?” You giggled at his lost puppy expression, his eyes lighting up when he realized you were being serious.

“Of course” You smiled sincerely,  “I’d be happy to! Just let me know what time to be ready at and I’ll be all yours” 

All his.  

The little boy in his was running around in circles, his heart beating too fast for the rest of his body to keep up. The thought of you being his girlfriend for a day was more than he could ever dream of. Of course it was only pretend and he’d wouldn’t dare push for more; not when you deserved the world. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to deal with Sam’s nagging. 

Problem solved. 

*****

This was a bad idea. 

A bad, bad idea. 

Bucky had gone through at least 4 outfits, debating between an array of Henley’s, before settling on a blue one when he remembered you complimented it because it was blue like his eyes. He picked up his razor and then immediately put it down when he remembered you once said you liked the scruff on him.  Even if this was just pretend, every single part of him was on edge as if this were a real date. As soon as his enhanced hearing picked up your soft footsteps padding down the hall, he was right by the door, nervously chewing his lip. 

Bucky blinked, his heart nearly giving way at 106 years old when he saw you make your way down the hall towards his apartment. You were in a flowery sundress, with a large cakebox in hand, your sweet perfume already making him dizzy. If Sam didn’t kill him for lying, the crush he had on you would be the next thing to take him out. 

"You-you look beautiful"  And sweet. And adorable. And delectable. 

An angel.

You looked like an angel. 

"Thank you, you look good too Sarge" You looked down at Bucky’s chest instead of meeting his eyes, unable to look at his pretty face. His adorable face. Handsome face. That dimple on his chin. Blue eyes. Pink lips. Fuck, you had such a big crush on him. 

It was going to be an interesting day. 

*****

Bucky parked the car at Sam’s place, which wasn’t too far from the lake where everyone had gathered. Part of him was almost sad they had made it on time; the car ride over with you ending faster than he’d liked.  

“He wasn’t kidding when he said he only invited family” Bucky snorted, seeing all of Sam’s relatives there along with his closest neighbors, many of whom he’d met before. He took the cakebox from you, slipping his hand into yours, smiling when you gave him a reassuring squeeze. You both made your way over, hand in hand, your heart skipping a beat each time someone greeted Bucky, every single person over joyed that he’d finally met someone to call his. 

He made his way over to the grill where Sam filliped a few burgers; the new Cap grinning when he saw you both. There was no missing the sparkle in his eyes when he looked down to your hand in Bucky’s, noting you were was holding his metal one, no longer covered by gloves. 

Interesting. 

“You’re lookin’ good” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky, loving the way the soldier rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the way his cheeks were dusted pink. 

“This is y/n, my girlfriend” Girlfriend. Bucky loved the way it rolled off his tongue with ease, not feeling an ounce of hesitance. The word previously feeling so foreign to him now felt so natural when he had you by his side. And holding your hand. And hearing your laugh. And-

Relax Bucky, it’s just for a day. 

“I’m Sam, and it’s very nice to meet you” He pulled you into a hug, still curiously eyeing Bucky, genuinely unable to figure out where he’d managed to find a sweetheart like you. 

“Thank you for the invite” you giggled as he gave you a light squeeze before letting you go, inspecting the cakebox Bucky handed to him. He grinned at the fresh strawberries that decorated the cake, shamelessly plucking one off and popping it into his mouth. “Strawberry shortcake. A little white wolf told me it was your favorite” 

“Well if the big bad wolf likes you then I like you cause he doesn’t like anybody. You must be special” Sam mused, a part of him wanting to be skeptical but there was nothing, absolutely nothing made up about the Bucky was looking at you. He gazed down at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars right in his room, an utterly lovesick puppy. You felt your cheeks heat up, burying your face into Bucky’s side while he chuckled, pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss on top of your head. Damn right, she’s special. 

You both made your way over to mingle with the rest of the crowd, have no trouble at all playing the role of an utterly in love boyfriend and girlfriend. Bucky didn’t miss a single chance to press little kisses on your cheeks, every so often pecking your nose. His hand never left your waist, always holding you close to him, his face occasionally buried into the crook of your neck. 

You played your part almost better than he did, gushing over what a gentleman he always was to you, stayed tucked by his side, nuzzling under his chin, occasionally actually getting lost in his soft scent of laundry detergent, his cologne and something distinctly him. You made the elderly ladies giggle and blush each time Bucky did something adorable, proudly showing you off to everyone. 

He didn’t even let you eat without being the most perfect doting boyfriend. You’d both served your plates, finding a nice spot to sit under a shady tree; Bucky sat on the large lawn chair, secretly happy there was only one. You were about to walk off to get another when he tugged your wrist and pulling you back. 

“C’mere, I wont bite” Bucky grinned, surprised with himself as he pulled you onto his lap with ease. You let out a squeak, your nose bumping against his as you plopped onto him, lips nearly brushing his. 

“Smooth, Barnes. Remind me again, how you don’t have a girlfriend” You let out a breathless laugh, screaming to yourself on the inside that this was fake. He was playing the role perfectly, that was all. So fucking perfectly. 

Why was he so perfect. 

Bucky smirked, kissing your shoulder, letting you relax against his chest, wondering if you’d feel his heart hammering against his ribcage from how flustered he actually was. He easily maneuvered you so you sat comfortably across his thighs, his arm still securely around your waist. 

When was he ever this smooth. 

If anyone else was this close, he’s run for the hills, but now he was contemplating tossing you over his shoulder and running to Sam’s house, the guest bedroom was upstairs and two doors to the right-

“Well I’ll be damned, he really does have a girlfriend” Sam shook his head while Joaquin snorted, both men looking at you and Bucky with heart eyes while they sipping their beers from the docks. 

“You think they’re faking?” Joaquin nudged Sam’s shoulder, watching Bucky now fed you a piece of cake, still keeping you on his lap, sneakily kissing the cream from the corner off your lips between bites. You’d giggle every time, feeding him a strawberry, squealing when he’s playfully bite your fingers. 

“You can fake a lot of things but not the way he’d blushing and giggling like a toddler in a candy store” Bucky played with your fingers, intertwining them with his hand, his nose scrunching as he laughed at something you said. 

“It’s nice to see him like this” Joaquin had seen grumpy Bucky, grouchy Bucky, angry Bucky, scary Bucky, sleepy Bucky, just about every Bucky on the planet, but this? This was a first. Love struck Bucky. Charming Bucky. Happy Bucky. Simpy Bucky. Sappy Bucky. Giggly Bucky. Playful biting Bucky. Ready to get down on one knee if you’d let him, Bucky. 

“Steve always said he was a charmer, he wasn’t lying”

They couldn’t take their eyes off the way the corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkled each time he smiled or the way you’d instinctively lean into him when he spoke. He’d tuck your hair away from your face, his hands lingering on your cheek for a second longer, giving them a glimpse of the man from the 40′s before the war,  youthful and innocent, his heart full of hope, a smirk that would make his best girl swoon; the both of you in your own little world. 

“He looks happy”

Sam had seen people look happy before. They’d smile but their eyes would be empty. They’d laugh but their voices were hollow. They’d look like they were on top of the world while sitting at rock bottom. The way Bucky’s eyes sparkled, his boyish laugh, the way he’d nuzzle into you, trying to be closer to you than physically possible, was more than just looking happy. 

“He is happy”

Bucky had completely forgotten about pretending with you, lost in how perfectly you fit in his arms. You had taken up your role very seriously, telling him how utterly handsome he was, never missing moment to peck his scruffy cheek or card your fingers through his short soft locks. You intertwined you fingers with his vibrainium ones, busing your lips against his cool knuckles. 

At some point in the afternoon, he’d slipped his jacket off and wrapped you up with it as evening crept around the corner. Not a single person doubted the nature of your relationship; at least four of Sam’s uncles had told Bucky to propose soon. 

You don’t meet a girl who makes you this damn giggly just anywhere, Sergeant. Hold onto her. 

****

Just when he thought he couldn’t fall for you more, you had fallen asleep in his arms, contently snuggled up in his jacket as the sunset over the lake. Most of Sam’s family had gone back home, a few close relatives still hanging around the boat, sipping on coffee. Bucky couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your forehead; he could get used to this. Cuddling up with you after date nights. Hearing your laugh. The softness of your lips. The way your hand always found itself in his metal one without hesitation. 

Fuck he wished this was real. 

You stirred slightly, a content sigh slipping past your lips at the feel of his kiss. Nothing felt more comfy than being wrapped up by the super soldier, his solid arms holding you close. You didn’t want to wake up, wishing you could sleep forever if it meant you’d be this close to Bucky all the time. The day felt like a dream; the exact dreams you had when you thought about your sweet neighbor. How it’d be for him to call you yours. To Be his girl. To make him smile. To make him laugh. 

If only it wasn’t just for a day. 

“You have a nice nap, baby?” Bucky smirked as you blinked awake, stretching on his lap like a cat before snuggling against him again. “My pretty girl” 

“Why wouldn’t I when my boyfriend is the comfiest spot to sleep on?” You teased, bringing your hand up to toy with the chain of his dog tags. Bucky chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, kissing your nose. There was no one around you both, though neither of you seemed interesting in dropping the act just yet. 

“You fit perfectly here, doll” He grinned, blushing when he hesitantly pulled you a little closer, your arms moving to wrap around his shoulders, resting on the back of his neck. 

“I think I like it here” You sucked in a breath as he rested his forehead against yours, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. His nose gently bumped against yours, his warm breath tickling your lips. 

“Me too” He closed the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours sweetly, savoring every bit of your softness. He couldn’t help but deepen the kiss as you parted your mouth letting his tongue lace with yours while your hand made its way through his hair, tugging on his short locks. Bucky let out a groan, letting his hands drop to your waist, kissing you for as long as he could until you both needed oxygen. 

“Maybe we can pretend for a little longer?” Bucky broke away, panting, his forehead still pressed against yours. You giggled between breaths, peppering kisses across his face. 

“Just a little longer?” 

“Maybe- maybe forever?” He looked at you with his classic puppy eyes, his heart bursting when you pulled him in for another kiss; forever. Forever sounded good. 

A few years later

“So, you finally gonna admit I made this happen?” Sam whispered while Bucky snorted, shaking his head. 

“Not gonna happen” 

“C’mon, I made this happen, I caused this” 

“You caused chaos” 

Sam scoffed in fake offence, taking a sleepy Becca from Bucky’s arms while the soldier went to go check on you. “Now when do I get to meet my second God child?”

“In a few hours” Bucky stretched before making his way back to your room, smiling at your resting form. He carefully laid down beside you, letting his hand splay across your tummy; in just a few more hours there would be a little Samuel Grant Barnes in the world. 

“We’re really good at pretending” You murmured, make Bucky chuckle, taking your hand in his and kissing the ring that sat on your finger. 

“Maybe just one more baby after this? Really convince them, Mrs. Barnes?”

*

“Uncle Sam, tell me a bedtime story?” Becca pouted, having been at the hospital for hours, giving Sam the exact same face Bucky gave you. Her little bottom lip jutting out, big (y/c/e) eyes blinking up at him. He grinned, settling her on his lap before he made a thinking face before asking what she’d want to hear. 

“What kinda story, Beccs, an animal story, a super cool falcon story or Captain America story or a flying Falcon Captain America story?” 

“The chaos daddy said you caused” She giggled while Sam nodded, taking a deep breath before starting. 

“It all started when your daddy said he had a girlfriend...”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie​ @geeky-politics-46​ @lolawassad​ @almosttoopizza​ @a-poor-gryffindork​ @alternativeprincess​ @buckycallsmeaslut​ @kamaria-sweet-writes​ @charmedbysarge​ @xnorthstar3x​ @kryoee7​ @alina02​ @gh0stgurl​ @polishprincess999​ @jessybarnes​ @alltheficsiwant​ @chemtrails-club​ @eralen​ @perdidosbucky-yyo​ @clqrosmgc​  

[wintrwinchestr]

bite the hand

the killer & the sound - chapter 3

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

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

word count: 13.2k

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

series masterlist

read this chapter on ao3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Jesus Christ, what the hell is he doing?

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he is so fucked.

—

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it is.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You assumed wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, for my own good?”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t get to back out of this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh…? Yeah, just gimme a–”

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

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

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

“Sorry! Sorry, Joel. It’s just, uh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Coward.

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe it does.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But only time will tell.

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message/comment/ask if you'd like to be added!!

[fangirleaconmigo]

Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)

[lemonmaid]

"I was reincarnated as a baby in a video game that I originally trapped in!"

Finally, the long wait sequel 😭

Warnings: fluff? Malleus is delulu

A/N: I've had to rewrite this four times due to my shit just not saving and I kinda got burned out and gaveup? I'm sorry if the ending looks rush, I will try to make a final at one point

"Sebek!!! Please for the love of the sevens, please quiet down! You're making the baby cry!"

"HOW CAN I? THERE IS A BABY IN THE WOODS! IT CAN BE A DEMON!".

Silver and Sebek bickering, it was almost reminiscing. Well if only they haven't left this place only a couple of hours ago just to re-land back into this place.

'Sliver, Sebek, please! I'm crying because I'm a fucking baby. Come on guys? Don't you recognize me?'

(Name) thought about it, if a couple of hours back in their world was only a few decades for this world- (Name)'s faced paled, 'Oh my God, do I even look the same? Do I have a tail or ears now? Lets just pray I have magic this time'.

"Maybe they're hungry?"

"Let's take them to Master!"

On the way to the castle, the two still bickered, leaving (Name) to remember what it was like before.

(Name) looked around, nothing looked too familiar but Silver and Sebek looked older. Silver had grown out his hair, holding it in a ponytail like Lilia. Sebek had also grown scales on the side of his face, like his grandfather. 'How long has time passed?' (Name) wondered.

Thunder was getting louder as they reach the castle, light spread in the sky. Causing (Name) to involuntary cry, 'Everything is so much louder as a baby' (Name) noted.

"Hey hey, shhhhh, it's okay little one, no more crocodile tears" Silver commented.

"STOP THAT"

"stop what"

"Puns!"

'Yep, just like old times' (Name) sighed.

As they reached the gate (Name) noticed that the Valley of Thorns wasn't so much a valley anymore but a fully flourished town, bustling with those old 1920 wind-up cars.

Sebek turned to Sliver, "stay here while I go fetch us a car, I don't think we could walk anymore with that thing hold us back".

As Sebek left it was just Silver and (Name), Silver had a sad look in his eye while looking at (Name). "You know it's kinda funny... we are kinda of the same".

Thunder roared in the sky. Sliver looked up to the clouds, "it seems like Malleus is upset again, maybe father cooked again" he chuckled.

'Silver has matured...' (Name) wanted to tell Sliver how proud they were, but all that came out was small cooing.

(Name) fell alseep in the car, their small baby mind and body made it exhausting to do anything, even thinking was exhausting.

"Hmm, they seem a bit malnourished". Lilia stared at the sleeping child.

Sebek scoffed, "Well of course, we found them in the labyrinth".

Malleus sat on his high thrown, watching the three bicker around the sleeping babe 'Reminds me of a certain tale'.

Malleus was uninterested, Sebek requesting an audience, rather demanding. Malleus could careless about a baby found in the middle of a labyrinth, he was more concerned about the shining light that came from said labyrinth. He thought about the perfect, he thought that they finally came back after all these years, maybe they had change their mind? Maybe they realized that this world was better than their own magicless, depressing, pathetic-

"Mallllleuus~ you're ruining that family relic we call throne with your nails".

Malleus scoffed, " I don't have time for this. Where is the perfect? Did you two come empty handed?".

Malleus's loud voice awoke (Name), startling them. Malleus aged like wine, his piercing green eye stared into their soul.

Sebek coughed before yanking (Name) out of Silver's arms. "Master! We found them where the light ended...... There was no perfect....".

Green magic engulfed their tiny body bring them close to Malleus.

"Now be careful Malleus~ they are just a babe".

As (Name) floated in the air, Malleus stared into their soul. "You're telling me... that this is all the sevens have blessed us with? How.... generous". Thunder echoed through the throne room, lighting flash. Sometimes (Name) forgot how powerful Malleus was. This was the man who could change the weather based on his mood.

As (Name) floated closer, the more scared they became, not of malleus but how utterly helpless they were, stuck in a baby's body.

"Hmmm, I smell no magic in them, but their eyes..... me of a certain human....from many years ago". (Name) floated into Malleus arms, his breathing hitched. Wrapping their tiny arms around the man, hugging him. Feeling his breathing change and how the storm that roared slowly soothed.

Malleus smiled fondly at (Name) their eyes locked.

"You shall be called "(Name)" in rememance to my dear friend, no, someone who was very dear to me. Now, now do not argue young one That is an honor. I have alot of respect for this name".

'How original Malleus'

"And you shall call me father aswell".

'WHAT' (Name) wailed.

The kingdom of thorns rejoiced when Malleus announced his new "hier", the kingdom could be heard throughout the night celebrating.

Malleus rocked (Name) back and forth as they slept.

Malleus looked at (Name) fondly, “How old do you think they are Lilia?”

Lilia sighed as he watched the celebration down below.

“I do not know, but I do know that the-”.

Malleus growled, “I do not care for what those old bag of”, he breathed, calming himself before he could awake (Name).

Lilia looked at the scene before him, reminding of himself in the past. Scared and alone with a baby, trying to fill a hole on his heart that was empty at the time.

“since the perfect’s birthday soon, that shall be (Name)’s new birthdate, (birthdate), that's soon, right Lilia? We must have a celebration!”.

Lilia sighed looking at the boy he could call a son, “I'll call the Rosehearts-”.

A celebration in deed, it reminding (Name) of that one scene in Shrek 2. No, it was that scene. A large red carpet to the entrance of the castle, the throne room decorated way to elegant for a baby's birthday, clothing to elegant for a mere child's birthday. (Name) watched boredly in Malleus lap, watching many make conversations. Some would occasionally walk up to the two, bow, leave a gift for (name) and walk away.

“Well look what that cat dragged in” Malleus teased.

‘Leona! Ruggie!’ (Name) involuntary cooed. The two obviously aged, while the Fae barely tinted. Leona’s hair gotten darker and Ruggie got taller.

“What poor person had the unfortunate to bed with a lizard?” Leona snickered.

Ruggie sighed, “Leona! Best behavior man-”

“Yes Leona, best behavior we wouldn't want another PR incident”. Malleus smiled.

‘election? I thought the Sunset Savannah was a monarchy? Is Leona trying to turn it to a democracy?’ (Name) was in deep thought, just how much has changed.

Lilia walked up to the three, “Boys couldn't you pick another day to brawl? Leona, hold your comments, aren't you trying to get supporters on your side for an election?”.

As (Name) was in deep thought, they were then host into Leona's arms.

"What's their name?"

"(Name)".

Leoma looked at Malleus with disgust and rage, "you think you can replace them!?".

Malleus glared, "I could never replace (Name) that is (Name)!".

Leona felt rage boil within him, staring down at (Name).

"Your scent... it smells like"

'Come on Leona, you can recognize me!'

"Like shit! Does anyone around here know how to take care of a baby? Their diaper is full!"

'DAMN IT'

"Stop that crying, you have no reason to cry".

[anjaelle]

Could you write a fic of Dave where him and y/n are getting used to having a newborn in the house?

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x Female!Reader Warnings: Pregnancy, Parenting, Babies, Existential Crises (kinda) a/n: *Timbaland voice* It's been a long time, I shouldn't've left you...; As a childless woman (who is often expected to have kids by this current age), I don't write about this stuff often. But I like the idea of Dave and his partner being...realistic about new parenthood. All things considered.

(gif source)

--x--

When you told Dave that you were pregnant, he had two major reactions.

First, was the excitement. It was a surprise for the both of you, but you'd been together for so long and constantly imagined what your future kids would be like. You picked out fake names and wondered who they'd take after more.

Then reality sank in along with the panic of how you'd both support a new baby. You weren't rich, nor were you sure you had the space for a baby. But you had the support of your friends and family while you figured everything out.

That didn't stop poor Dave from doting on you every single day, as your due date approached. He continued to freak out until the day you came home from the hospital with your newborn, sleeping in his car seat.

While you napped in your bedroom, he stood over the bassinet and watched his son's chest rise and fall, occasionally reaching down to stroke his little tuft of thick, dark hair.

He was so small. A healthy small, but a small nonetheless. When the nurse first put the newborn in Dave's arms, he nearly had a moment of paralyzing doubt. Would he be too rough? Would his hands be too calloused and hard? Would he accidentally drop him?

"Geez," he mumbled to himself as the baby stirred, "I can't believe you're real. We made a person."

He paused and felt the baby's tiny, rapid heartbeat.

"You're actually going to grow up and become someone someday." Dave thought aloud. The thought filled him with wonder and a bit of fear, "There's a whole wide world out there waiting to meet you, kid. And, shit--I mean, shoot, you've only been on this earth for 5 days and I don't know how I'll cope with watching you grow up and experience it."

He swallowed hard as his little face scrunched up for a moment before relaxing again.

Dave had to protect him.

After a month of chaos, you began to notice that Dave was a bit on edge. Still. You watched as he warily eyed you with the baby in your arms, and flitted around the house. What he was doing, you weren't sure. He may have been cleaning the same appliances and countertops 50 times in an effort to make sure they were "adequately disinfected" before he interacted with your little one.

"Baby," you sighed from the living room couch as David tied his hair up to wipe down the fridge again, "come sit with us. Take a breather."

"Sure, in a sec," he rapidly chattered, "let me just finish the kitchen--"

"--Dave," you cut him off, waving a hand to get his attention, "Come on. Please?"

He hesitated, then put the cleaning rag down to wash his hands (for the fourth time in under a half hour). You were positive his hands were probably dry as all hell from the constant scrubbing. Even as he made his way back to the couch, you noticed his eyes shifting around the space, looking for...something.

"Talk to me." You said, crossing your sweatpants-clad legs and readjusting the sleeping infant in your arms, "What's the matter?"

When Dave collapsed onto the couch, you noticed how exhausted he actually was. A low groan seeped out from the depths of his soul.

"I'm freaking the fuck out."

"Wanna talk about it?" You nudged, scooting closer to him. He absentmindedly wrapped his arm around your shoulder to pull you both in close

You sat in pensive silence for a moment as you waited for him to get his thoughts together. For as long as you'd known him--well over a decade by this point--he'd sometimes hold back from sharing when something was truly bothering him.

After you learned about his alter ego, he had this idea that he needed to protect you from everything. You had to break it down for him that holding back his thoughts and feelings would make you even more concerned than if he told the truth. At least then, you explained, you could work through it together. You were partners, after all.

It was a hard pill to swallow for him, but you appreciated his attempts at opening up more.

After a few minutes, he leaned down and kissed you on the forehead.

"I love you." He murmured into your hair.

"Ew, affection." You joked, playfully poking him in his side. He chuckled at your earnest attempt at levity, "I love you more. Now tell me what's up."

You heard him audibly swallow down the lump in his throat as he glanced down at your son.

"What if...like...he gets hurt? Or if he gets sick? Or if someone else hurts him? What happens then?" He furrowed his brows when his voice cracked with emotion, "I've seen so much bad shit out there. It's--I can handle it, sometimes. I know what to expect. But it's different now."

He reached out a shaking hand to gently adjust the cap on the baby's head, "He's so small. And, yeah, I know he won't be small forever. I think that's the scariest part. Someday he's going to go out into this fucked up world on his own without us, and I don't know what would happen if..."

He drifted off, not even wanting to complete the thought. As you sat quietly and listened to him, you noticed the way his knee anxiously bounced and the way his hand gripped your shoulder protectively. If it were up to him, you knew he'd build a protective dome around your tiny family and wouldn't let either of you out of his sight.

The reality of the situation was hard, but he had to hear it.

"I can't promise that bad things won't happen," you carefully told your partner, "because that would be a lie. He's going to get sick, because kids get sick. He's going to fall and scrape his knee, and hit his head, and run into things. He's going to probably trip and break something when he's a little older." You shot a knowing glance at Dave, "He is your son, after all."

Dave couldn't help the small twitch at the corner of his mouth, "Shut up."

"Someday," you continued, tenderly pushing one of his curls behind his ear, "he's going to get his heart broken. Or he'll break someone else's heart. Someday he's going to stumble and need us for support. That's just a part of growing up, baby. We both did it."

"That's what I'm kind of worried about." He admitted, "I can't--I don't know how I'd deal with--I won't be around forever. We won't be around to protect him forever."

"Unless they make a ton of affordable scientific advancements in the next 50 years or so, probably not." You semi-joked. Though you felt a pang of sadness at the thought of not being around in your son's life forever. You remembered hearing his heartbeat for the first time and decided you never wanted to be apart from him if you could help it. "We're here now to protect him, which is the most important thing. But I understand it. And I'm scared, too."

Dave seemed to look at you like you had six heads, "You're scared? You?"

"Is that really hard to believe?"

"Yeah, kinda! I dunno." You felt him fidget with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve, "I've known you since we were kids. And...like, I feel like you've always had the answers. I can't really picture you doubting yourself." He glanced down at the baby as if making an executive decision, and then gently reached out for him to hold him in his arms, "I mean...look at you and everything you've done, already. You're so amazing. He just got here and you're already the best mom in the world. Our kid is so lucky."

Between the sentimentality of Dave's words, the way he looked holding the baby, and the reassurance that you were doing a good job, you felt the dam break and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You didn't even realize how much fear about the situation you'd been harboring until then. The tears progressed into a deep sob that shook your whole body as you buried your head into his shoulder.

"You really mean that?" You asked, wiping the snot from your face with your sleeve. He slowly rubbed your back--up...down...up...down--and pressed his cheek to the top of your head.

"Well, yeah. We didn't even plan for any of this. We've been trying to figure this shit out. And, yeah, it's hard. But seeing you with him reminds me of why I love you so much, you know? I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you. And I'm really, really fuckin' scared. But it's not so scary with you here. I hope you feel that way about me too. At least a little?"

His kind blue eyes stared into your soul as he gently rocked the baby. The worry seemed to disappear from his face as he held the two most important people in his life.

You tried to say something back. Something equally deep, affirming, and sentimental. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't wait to begin this future with him, that you were proud of him as a new father, that you couldn't do this without him, and that you knew he'd make an amazing parent.

Instead, you cried harder and sobbed out, "I'msogladyou'rehisdaddy."

[sugar-coated-galaxies]

Lil vent post bc I just. Need to get it out ig

[bijouxcarys]

Bad News (Roman Reigns x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Description: They told her to stay away. But something about him makes her keep coming back for more.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: @octaviastargirl @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @heauxvibez (let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics)

Saturday, May 27th 2023 – Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

It had always been the three of them.

Despite not sharing a father, the sibling bond between Jasmine and Kevin was unshakable. Their shared history spanned so many years that neither could recall a time when it was otherwise. Although he was nearly a decade her senior, the two of them wreaked havoc together like a dynamic duo from Hell. The real transformation came when Sami entered Kevin’s life, escalating their antics to new heights.

Inseparable, irreplaceable, indestructible. Nothing could come between them.

Except… the face of pro wrestling. The one man that Jasmine was incessantly warned against—stay away from him, Jas; he’s not worth the trouble.

Roman fucking Reigns.

Ever loyal to her brother’s and best friend’s advice, she made an earnest attempt to heed their warnings. Attempt being the operative word here.

“Give me a bit of slack, man, I’m trying my best here,” she’d mutter, her face buried in the couch pillows.

“There’s no slack when it comes to that man, Jas. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s a wrestler, not the mafia.”

“Well…”

“Don’t be so dramatic—”

“I’m not. He just has a way of…” Sami shivered slightly, “getting into your head.”

“Yeah, we’re well aware of your little man crush.”

Jasmine was fully aware of her family’s fraught history with Roman and The Bloodline, so it wasn’t unusual for them to vent whenever they had a private moment backstage. They were always careful—God only knew the repercussions if the wrong ears caught wind of their conversations.

“He has kids, doesn’t he?”

“And an ex-wife.”

“Yeah, but kids.”

“What’s your point?”

“…Potent dad nut?”

“Jasmine!”

She understood the gravity of someone overhearing Sami and Kevin. Being a new addition to the main roster afforded her certain privileges that others might not have. However, nothing—absolutely nothing—would compare to the trouble she’d be in if either man discovered her… extracurricular activities.

> Still held up?

Jasmine glanced down at her phone, the text neatly displayed under the name BDU—an alias Roman had adopted from a fan’s moniker for him, “Big Daddy Uce,” circulating on social media.

She hesitated for a moment, thumb hovering over her screen, before typing out her reply.

Just a bit longer. Kevin and Sami are running late.<

Hitting send without a second thought, she sighed to herself. Navigating this bullshit lie was exhausting. The thrill of sneaking around with Roman clashed with the constant fear of those who loved her the most finding out. She glanced at the clock; time was slipping away.

Just then, the door to the locker room inched open, a familiar voice calling inside.

“Jas, you in here?”

“Yep. Just me, Kev, you can come in.”

She swore she felt the contents of her stomach clawing its way up her body when she noticed the stern expression on her brother’s face. Oh, shit, he’s found out. Time to move to Antarctica and live amongst the penguins.

“What’s up?” she asked after clearing her throat and sending him a nonchalant smile.

With a grunt, Kevin flopped down beside her, chewing over his thoughts. “Look… I know you’re trying…” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully. “And I can only interfere so much, and as your big brother, it’s my responsibility to prote—”

“Will you just spit it out already?”

“You really need to stay away from him, Jasmine. A-and it’s not just about us—he’s bad fucking news. I don’t wanna lose you because of all that.”

“I get it, I really do…” Jasmine furrowed her brows, unsure as to why he was spouting the same lecture he’d already given her a million times already. The two of them locked eyes, as if they were trying to see into each other’s thoughts. Jesus, just tell me what you really mean.

“I noticed it, y’know.” Kevin sighed.

“You noticed what?”

“The little smiles you give him whenever he goes past catering, or whenever we just so happen to cross paths before and after a match.”

“Sorry, am I not allowed to smile at people anymore?” Jasmine huffed, reaching down to tighten her bootlace.

“That’s not what I’m saying! But I know you, Jas—I know how you get with guys—”

“What the fuck is that meant to mean?”

“It means you’re a flirt, and so is that asshat,” he stood up, angled over her just to solidify his point.

“And?” she looked up at him, her hands flying out in an act of defence.

Kevin studied her face for a moment, before eventually sighing. “Just… please be careful, okay?”

“Listen,” she stood up, still inches shorter than him, but with the same gusto. “Nothing you’ve said to me about Roman Reigns has gone in one ear and out the other. I get it. You and Sami drill it into my head enough, how could I forget to be careful with him?” Her face softened and she placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “I’m fine, Kev. Really. I’m a big girl, I can handle a 6ft 4 Samoan wrestler, even if it means telling him to fuck off when he steps wrong.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay… I’d like to see you square up to him.”

“You know what I mean, idiot. Now, go and do whatever you were doing and stop worrying about me and my wondering eyes.”

Jasmine took the seconds after Kevin’s departure to release the heaviest sigh known to man.

You’re really not making this easy for me, Big Dog.

Giving herself a once over in the mirror, she slipped out of the locker room, making her way through the labyrinthine halls of the arena. The crowd’s distant roar echoed around her, reminding her of just where the fuck she was and the spectacle unfolding just beyond the breeze block walls. The audiences in Jeddah were always loud.

Finally, she reached the private room where she knew Roman was waiting. Knocking softly on the door, she slid in as smoothly as she could, meeting the never-faltering intense gaze of the man she really shouldn’t be seeing right now.

“Jassy,” he drawled, pulling her further into the room and closing the door behind her. “Thought you were gon’ stand me up.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied, rolling her eyes as he wrapped his girthy arms around her. “Kevin practically cornered me.”

Roman’s expression shifted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Always playin’ the big brother, huh? Thinks he can keep you from me.” He lowered his gaze to her lips, looking over her face with the same shit-eating air of arrogance he displayed in the ring.

“Maybe he should,” she shot back, though her tone was more teasing than anything else. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

He chuckled lowly. “You like bad influences, baby.”

Dramatically sighing, she couldn’t stop herself from smirking herself. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I have to like you, though.” She poked at his chest in a half-hearted attempt at separating their bodies.

“Oh, you like me, Jasmine. More than you wanna admit.” He leaned into her, breath warm against her ear. “And that’s what drives your pretty ass crazy.”

She huffed, her palms flat against his bare chest, still waiting to be oiled down. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of it if you think you can keep resisting me.” Hands settled on her waist; he tugged her closer. “But I get it, baby, I do… You’re just mad ‘cause you can’t get enough.”

Her lower lip slipped between her teeth as she attempted to suppress a smile. God-be-damned if she even so much as thought about matching the grin on his perfect fucking face.

“You wish.”

“Shh, you gotta stop tryna push me away so much, mama.” To her utter surprise, Roman placed a tentative kiss to her forehead, though the grip he had on her remained possessive. Territorial.

The two stood there for a moment, savouring the rare peace of their stolen time together. But the reality of their situation loomed large, regardless of their circumstances, and Jasmine knew they couldn’t stay in this tiny ass room for long.

Reluctantly, she pulled away completely. “I should go before they start looking for me.”

Roman nodded, though his qualms mirrored her own. “Be safe out there, Jassy. And remember,” he quickly added, causing her to stop in her tracks and half-turn in his direction. “Anythin’ goes wrong over there, you got me.”

She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. “Always.”

Of course, he couldn’t resist landing a small, teasing, slap to her ass just before she pulled the door open and disappeared for the night. She could still feel the light sting as she made her way down to catering, where she knew Sami and Kevin would be.

“Everything okay?” Sami asked, noticing the distant look in her eyes.

Jasmine nodded, forcing a casual tone. “Yeah, just needed a breather. It’s hot here, don’t you think?” She took a seat opposite the pair, instantly pulling her phone out once she felt the small buzz in her pocket.

> See you later ;)

You’re so sure about that aren’t you?<

> I told you… you can’t stay away

She tucked the phone away with a determined smile, knowing he was right. He always was.

And that proved to be true a lot sooner than she had hoped. Later that evening, as the arena buzzed with the looming anticipation of the night’s main event, Jasmine found herself once again lost in the battle of her morals. Roman and Solo’s tag team match against Sami and Kevin was literally minutes away, and she knew she had to wish him luck. Even if it meant risking another confrontation with her brother.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way to where she knew The Bloodline would be. Distant from everyone else, so she was thankful for that aspect.

Jimmy answered her knock, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of her.

“Hey, Jas. What you doin’ here?”

“Just wanted to, uh… wish Roman luck, I guess,” she said, trying to sound casual about her impromptu detour.

The Uso raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let her in. Inside, the air was thicker than it was in the corridors. It was like the pre-match mental preparation seeped into the ethos. Paul and Solo were over on the couch, both eyeing her with curiosity. And in the very centre of the room, angled towards a mirror as he adjusted his red glove, was Roman.

“Look who decided to show up,” Roman chimed, his voice dripping with playful pride. Sauntering over to her, his wet hair hung at the sides of his face as he angled down to look her in the eye. “Told you, you can’t stay away… You here to give me a good luck charm, baby?”

“Maybe I am,” she crossed her arms and met his gaze head-on. “Not that you need it, Mr. Head of the Table.”

“Ooh,” he chuckled, eyes darkening with that familiar glint. “You know I love it when you call me that.”

Jasmine snorted a small laugh with a swift roll of her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Roman leaned in closer, dropping his voice to that husky whisper she usually only ever heard in their most private moments. “You sure you don’t wanna stick around? Might need a little extra motivation.”

Even though his tone caused a shiver to shoot down her spine, she maintained her composure. “I think you’ll be just fine without me distracting you.”

“You always distract me, Jassy. That’s half the fun.”

Before she could respond, Jimmy interrupted with a grin. “Hey, Uce, you better focus on the damn match. Don’t let Jas here mess with your head.”

Roman shot his cousin a glare. “I got this. Ain’t nothin’ gon’ mess with my head tonight.”

Jasmine shook her head, unable to suppress the amusement that came with every visit to any locker room belonging to The Bloodline. “Alright, alright. Go out there and show them why you’re the Tribal Chief.”

His intense glare softened as he looked back at Jasmine. “You gonna be watchin’?”

“Aren’t I always?” she raised an eyebrow as she made her way to the door.

“As long as you keep acknowledging me, baby, that’s all I need.”

She shot him a grin before closing the door behind her. Oh, I’ll always acknowledge the fuck out of you.

Roman’s domineering presence was palpable, right from the very start of the match. She wasn’t sure if it was just where she watched on from the shadows of Gorilla, but every move he made exuded a confidence in him like never before. But… Kevin and Sami were relentless. They pushed The Bloodline to their limits. And her eyes couldn’t decide where they wanted to be focused. Once again thrown into the back and forth of what outcome she really wanted…

Roman and Solo seemed to have the upper hand at times, but her own family fought back with a determination that left everyone on the edge of their seats, even her.

Eventually, Kevin had Roman alone. Squaring off in the ring. Their rivalry coming to a head in a series of brutal exchanges. A Stunner from Kev, an immediate Spear by Roman. Usually, she could tell which direction a certain match was going. But this? A whole other level.

The climax of the match came in a flurry of action. Solo unleashed a devastating assault on Sami, while Roman engaged Kevin in a battle of wills. The crowd erupted as the evening reached its fever pitch, the finale hanging in the balance.

In a final, dramatic moment, Sami managed to evade Solo’s grasp and tag in Kevin, who launched into a brutal offence against Roman. And despite Roman’s best efforts, Kevin and Sami’s relationship proved too strong. Another Stunner to Roman, followed by a classic Helluva, secured the pinfall that retained her family’s title.

Everyone seemed to explode with cheers. Jasmine couldn’t decide if she was proud of Sami and Kevin for their win, or disappointment that her illegal partner of sorts had actually… lost.

The same engulfed her as she tried her best to celebrate with her brother and best friend backstage. Tried to look happier than she really was. A horrible feeling if there ever was one.

You’re betraying your family; you should be happy!

Then she caught it. Focused, intense eyebrows narrowed down atop eyes that lit up whenever in her presence. Though, this time, approaching was out of the question. Roman passed from afar, followed by Jimmy, Solo, and Paul. His fists clenched at his sides, and his nostrils flared, she held no remorse for him ignoring is surroundings. He was in his head, and she empathised.

However, no amount of losing could stop him from approaching her.

Her phone buzzed as she flopped down onto the bed in her hotel room, snug in a fluffy robe after a hot shower.

> You busy?

Nope<

It took him a while to respond, but once he did, a wide smile overtook her features and she shot up into a seated position.

> Unlock your door and sit on the bed. Don’t fucking move. I’ll be there in 15.