#there are so many lines when I’m like. she needs someone in the booth telling her to let go of her self consciousness in this man

[solasfenheral]

Zach Mendez really does do a great job with the task of “line that could sound cheesy if you don’t deliver it with complete sincerity” and it’s very endearing in Lucanis

[joelsdagger]

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night. 

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again. 

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?” 

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you. 

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence. 

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend. 

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover. 

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. 

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip. 

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it. 

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it. 

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice. 

You need something new, something fresh, babe. 

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person. 

Trust me, it’ll be good for you. 

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind. 

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months. 

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes. 

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome. 

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember. 

Fuck. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.  

 And oh. 

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new. 

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring. 

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else. 

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.  

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires. 

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.” 

Confusion floods his features. 

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips. 

“She cheated on you,” you retort. 

“How did–” 

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.” 

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip. 

 “Hey, you raised him,” you joke. 

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug. 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” you ask. 

 “Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

 You look at him pointedly. 

 “Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little. 

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.” 

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch. 

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?” 

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify. 

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering. 

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks. 

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?” 

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them. 

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him. 

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again. 

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar. 

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease. 

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp. 

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom. 

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning. 

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined. 

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.” 

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?” 

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words. 

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear. 

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so. 

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him. 

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness. 

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.  

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out. 

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk. 

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” 

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror. 

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be. 

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn. 

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it. 

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats. 

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites. 

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic. 

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. 

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will. 

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot. 

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?” 

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly. 

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’  – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard. 

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.” 

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought. 

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock. 

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.” 

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?” 

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper. 

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release. 

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you. 

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him. 

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you. 

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you. 

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls. 

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip. 

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin. 

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror. 

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands. 

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock. 

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you. 

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.” 

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy. 

And then it hits you. 

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with? 

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one. 

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly. 

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters. 

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth. 

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things  — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth. 

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more. 

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.” 

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. 

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give. 

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks. 

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you. 

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.” 

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out. 

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t. 

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you. 

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting. 

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun. 

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number. 

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo. 

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong. 

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home. 

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel. 

He’s already watching you. 

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid. 

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash. 

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

[berkchuu]

The Agreement

Viktor x Fem. Reader

Chapter 2 Progress Day

I went through my abundance of clothes. I must find something to stand out that screams, “I’m from Toriana”! I laid many dresses out and ran my hand along the many silks and kinds of cotton. Scanning through the many colors, my eyes fell on the dress gifted by the queen. I got it when I got rewarded with the position of ambassador. The colors marked my special gift. My body shook. Right. Toriana is known for perfection. Perfection equals perfect people. Perfect people mean special talents. Talents that are only rumors. Magic users are just rumors. I am just a rumor. I won’t be one for long. One of our goals here is to stop Hextech and show them what magic really is.

The silver accents shimmered in the light pouring into my room. I guided my hand down the lavender silk that the dress was made out of. I struggled to put it on, but I got it on my body after a few minutes. I looked in the mirror and took in the dress. I hadn’t worn it since my inauguration into my position. Lavender poured down my body like a waterfall. Cream dripped down my arms and slightly down my dress. It hugged my neck tight with some help from the silver breast piece. On the back was a slight opening. It would be scandalous if a silver eye that hooked to the breast piece in front did not adorn the back. A symbol of my type of magic.

My hair would be the death of me. So many choices. Should I go bold or keep it tame? With a huff, I decided (Bold or tame). After spending some time on my hair, I turned my attention to my face. I was already behind schedule, so I decided to put on minimal makeup. I grabbed my silver boots and made my way out the door. To my surprise, Corporal Desmond and Captain Rhamus were waiting for me outside my door. They both wore matching all-black suits with pieces of silver armor beautifully placed on them.

“You look perfect, Ms!” Rhamus exclaimed.

“Good. It’s my birthright too.” I chuckled.

We all made our way to the main foyer, where a vigorous amount of nicely dressed people were gathered in their little groups. I scanned the room and tried to find some high-end people to mingle with. As I looked around I noted that outside were tons of booths and stalls lined with many interesting trinkets and food. I’d have to try a few of those out. We made our way through the crowds of people, noting the stares upon us.

“Ms. (Y/N)! Over here!”

I jumped at my name, suddenly being called. I frantically looked for the culprit. Then I looked eyes with him. Jayce. The star himself. I gingerly made my way toward him. He smiled, and greeted me once again with a kiss on the hand, and a small little bow. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Jayce, I am an ambassador,” I grabbed his arm to straighten him out a bit, “not royalty. There’s is no need for your display.”

“Aw, come on! I was just trying to show some chivalry, m’lady.” He laughed.

How annoying. Before I could respond, someone moved from behind him. A woman with gold kissing her face and perfect black twisted hair. She wore a white dress with more gold on it. This must be someone important. I didn’t need my magic to tell me that.

“Hello, you must be the ambassador from Toriana. I’m Mel Medarda. I’m part of the council.” She extended her hand toward me. In Torianan fashion, I kissed it. She smiled with curiosity.

“A pleasure Ms. Medarda. I am looking forward to working with such a beauty as yourself. We Torians pride ourselves on perfection. You’d fit right in.” I charmed.

“Well, that's certainly flattering. Why don’t you sit with me during Jayce's speech? I think we’ll get along just fine.” She motioned me to follow her.

We made out way into a big auditorium. I sat next to Mel while my two guards sat to my left. While waiting for the speech to start, I took in my surroundings. While I examined the stage, I noticed a flash of maroon. Upon further inspection, I saw a man peek at the crowd. He wore a maroon button-up with a white vest on top. His hair was long and brown. It looked as smooth as the silk that adorned my body. His face is what caught my attention the most. His face was jagged and hollow. He had beautiful cupid-shaped lips that were slightly cracked. Two birthmarks dotted his face like stars in the sky. His eyes were the color of the gold that spilled from the lowering sun outside. He was a sight to behold. I couldn’t take in any more of him as we made eye contact, and he jumped back behind the stage.

I had to stay awake as I listened to Jayce give his awful speech. I did not care about Hextechs future. If things go well and to plan, there will be no future for Hextech. I kept letting my eyes linger on the spot I saw that man. I needed to see him more. It was like looking at a painting. Something snapped me to my senses. It was Mel getting up in a huff. I was going to go after but saw Heimerdinger shake his head. Jayce finished, and I watched as he searched the crowd. His smile faded as his eyes met Mel's empty seat. I looked smugly at him. I can see this plot from a mile away. Young love. Something I’ll keep in mind for later.

“Ms. (Y/N), would you like to accompany me to the private dinner.” Heimerdinger smiled.

“Oh yes, what a nice speech. It’s nice to see you guys thrive.” I followed him as we talked about the small things in the speech.

Heimerdinger opened a door that led to a huge ballroom. I spotted expensive dresses and suits. This must be a room full of important people. I made my way inside and felt all eyes on me. Before I walked further in, Heimerdinger began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Ms. (Y/n) (L/n) from Toriana! She’s an ambassador and will stay with us for a few months. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”

I felt my face heat up as everyone clapped. Jayce was the first to approach me.

“Well, what an entrance, m’lady.” He laughed as he handed me a glass of wine.

“You know how royalty is.” I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“Let’s have you meet everyone, shall we?” Jayce led me around the room as I meant council members and other important figures. The night was filled with drunken laughter and charming advances. No one stuck out to me. Until, of course, Jayce introduced me to his partner.

“Viktor! I want you to meet someone!” He gestured towards me. My heart skipped a beat. It was him. The man behind the stage. The name Viktor suited him well. I was even more flustered when he spoke.

“Hello Ms. (Y/n), I’m Viktor. It’s a pleasure to meet someone of your caliber. I’ve done a lot of studying about your country and culture. You’re as perfect as the books say.” He smiled, and I almost fainted. It took me a moment to even notice the crutch that was quite obviously there. He was injured? I couldn’t even fathom such a perfect man would be injured in such away.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Please, call me (Y/n). I know it’s unprofessional, but I’ll make an exception for you.” I winked and mused at the faint pink that started to form on his cheeks.

I went on, “I look forward to….” I stopped.

My vision blurred, and my head felt fuzzy. I closed my eyes, seeing flashes of blue and pink smoke everywhere. Fire danced around a big tent. In the smoke was a girl. She had blue braids. I tried to see more, but my eyes unfogged. I was on the floor with Jayce and Viktor kneeling by me. Suddenly an explosion shook the room. I gasped.

[crystalrose555]

Slap me, I dare you! ch. 17

   “Hmm, black or white? Which one’s better, you two?” Asmo asked as he twirled around.

Solomon and Lucifer sat across from the fitting room as the avatar of lust modeled the options he offered. While the sorcerer smiled and gave a thoughtful nod while the eldest brother looked up from his book with slight scorn. Seeing this reaction, Asmodeus gave a pout to his brother before leaning against the changing booth.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Lucifer, can’t decide? Sorry that I’m so breathtaking in everything I wear.”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitched as he focused on his younger brother.

“I would rather concentrate on what you wanted to tell me. Instead, you’ve managed to drag me onto a shopping trip.”

“I mean, it only makes sense, it’s not often I get to shop in the human realm. It’s absolutely inspiring, especially when enhanced with my beauty.” Asmo chimed.

“Asmodeus, if you keep wasting my time, you will suffer dearly.”

Asmo shrank away a little while Lucifer pierced his form with his icy gaze. Seeing this, Solomon straightened himself in his seat as if to grab the eldest born’s attention.

Asmo and Solomon shared a glance before turning back to the eldest brother tapping his finger on the armrest of his chair. Solomon stared at Asmodeus whose eyes widened from the sudden attention on his person. A lump formed in his throat and vibrated gently while he tried to cough up his confession. Then as if a switch flips, he reverted back to his bubbly outlook and claimed,

“Lucifer, it’s obvious that Asmodeus is trying in his own way.”

“Enough, the three of us know what needs to be said and you two should stop wasting time and confess to your transgression.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you and Satan together but he isn’t here and I feel it’s a bit unfair to have him at a disadvantage, you know how mad he gets when he’s out to loop.” He deflected with a smile.

Solomon sighed silently while Lucifer stared at his younger brother with an unamused gaze that bordered with a quiet rage. Feeling the heat, Asmodeus shrunk behind the dressing room curtain while keeping a small smile on his face, hoping it would be enough to quell the morning star.

“Solomon, don’t just sit there, help me!” He called out in a panic.

The sorcerer just rubbed his temples as the stalemate continued.

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“Levi, when I said I was willing to go to the bookstore with you, I didn’t mean I would stand in this line with you. Do you have any idea how many people are here?”

Leviathan just snorted out of pride.

“Of course I do, this is one of the biggest release events this year, to think it would be here of all places. Though it was last minute, why do you think I planned this so we would be in the last part of the middle of the early group? With our position, we will receive a clear signature without the early calibration adjustments or the late fatigue mistakes.”

Satan just looked at his older brother with slight frustration.

“Alright but the last time I checked Mochi’s friend went through you when you met them in RAD.”

“Then why am I in line?”

“Because I want to get a signed copy for Mochi. Gothic Zombie Girl was one of the first shows I watched with her and with this new movie adaption, I wanna make sure that she doesn’t miss it, no matter who I have to go through.”

The shrewd comment created tension between the brothers who exchanged passive-aggressive glares. 

“I don’t expect a normie like you to understand the bond we have. Besides, we haven’t found Mochi yet and I want to be prepared when we see each other again.” Levi answered with a head turn.

Satan rolled his eyes and looked toward the front where the author signed books and shook hands with varying degrees of excited fans. However, something else caught his eye as someone dressed in all black stood close by to the table. Their black shades reflected a multitude of colors in the light as they clasped hands with fans who made audible squeals upon speaking with them. Their face was obscured by the high collar of their jacket.

“Whose that?” Satan asked while tugging on Levi’s shirt to get his attention.

Levi looked on before twisting his face with slight disgust.

“That’s just Nue, he’s some normie musician that has been on the soundtrack side of things.”

Levi scoffed harshly.

“Yeah, with the way those humans are acting, I doubt that he’s just some musician.”

Satan folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Please, he’s merely dipped into the world of otaku, he doesn’t have the experience needed to fill in a voice acting role.”

“So you’re upset that he’s popular and is cast in a major character role.”

Levi shot a glare at his younger brother before focusing on the line in front of them.

“Thanks for coming out, please continue to support our work in the future.”

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A couple of fans tried to squeeze out more answers before they were gently ushered away from the stand. Nixie took in a deep breath and sighed quietly. He knew that today was going to be a long one but the fatigue he felt was unrivaled. It was as if he was bleeding out and he couldn’t feel the wound, he could feel his skin heat up from the rising temperature. Another set of fans can and went as Nixie continued to autopilot each conversation. He wanted to care about those who came out to see him but he couldn’t spare any thought for them. 

Between meeting fans, he thought back to when he went to Devildom, facing down its most powerful demons before escaping back to the realm of humans. He found himself questioning why they let him run away, he knew he was fierce but he was no match for all of them. If they really wanted to stop them, they would have, so what stopped them? At that moment, he could hear Marley’s voice, telling him that he was wrong, but he couldn’t believe it. It was more likely she was cursed and he just had to snap her out of it. He continued to entertain the feelings of the grateful fans as his vision blurred out of boredom and repetition, his mind and heart were barely there. However, he found a new focus as his worst fears came into his reality.

There he was, at the Gothic Zombie Girl book signing, promoting the upcoming movie, and deep in the winding crowd he could make out Leviathan and Satan patiently waiting in the queue. He was frozen, he couldn’t just bolt in front of everyone who was waiting to meet him.

“Why? Why the hell are they here?” Nixie cursed underneath his breath.

Levi jumped back a bit before grasping Nixie’s hand and shaking it. 

His head throbbed while he struggled with some of Devildom's most powerful coming to him whether he liked it or not. He quickly glanced around, looking for anything that could give him an edge but found nothing to grasp onto. After a large silent sigh, he made peace with the fact he wouldn’t be able to slip away, not with so many eyes upon him. All he could do was meet his fate head-on. There they were, Levi and Satan stood in front of the mangaka with either absolute astonishment or complete indifference. After what felt like a thousand years, the duo finally turned their gazes upon Nixie.

“Thank you for coming out and supporting us today.” He greeted with a smile and his hand stretched out.

“He probably doesn’t even understand how big this movie is.” Levi thought to himself.

In reality, Nixie was just thinking about how cold the third born's hand was. His palm was clammy from his interaction with one of his favorite mangaka and he was now shaking hands with the same demon who broke into RAD without knowing it. If anyone should have cold hands, it should be Nixie.

“So, how did you manage to get a voice role in the upcoming Zombie Girl movie? Aren’t you a live performer, wouldn’t you prefer having your face everywhere?” Levi asked flatly.

Nixie chuckled at the question causing Levi’s hairs to rise.

“Believe it or not, I can be pretty bashful, I’ve been doing soundtracks in the industry while working on my own albums and only recently I’ve been doing live shows.”

“Yeah but you have been doing music videos for a while and they’ve been trending constantly. Yet I haven’t seen anything from the otaku side.”

“I’ve been credited for games and anime work under different names, currently my agent is working to release a full list of my works underneath my new name.”

“Changing names? Didn’t want anyone to associate you with geek culture-”

“It’s alright, it just means he’s very passionate about the series.”

Satan quickly covered his brother’s mouth while giving Nixie a smile.

“My apologies, my brother is a huge fan of Gothic Zombie Girl.”

Nixie gave a small smile, partially revealing his face in the process. Levi’s eyes blinked rapidly before squinting at Nixie hard. Seeing the change in expression, Nixie’s gaze widened slightly before breaking eye contact behind his shades. He held his hand to his mouth and gave a soft cough, clearing his throat. 

“Either way, I’m happy I got a chance to talk to the two of you. Please continue to support us in the future.” He chimed.

Before either brother could fit another word in, the line organizer ushered them away as more fans greedily took their space.

“Yeah, we aren’t telling you anything, snowball.” Gell growled back.

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

“Start talkin’, runts, before I get angry.” Mammon growled deeply.

Mammon and Gell locked eyes as their growling grew more and more primal with each passing second. As for everyone else, the built up tension of the situation seemed to dwindle away as they watched the twosome trying to intimidate one another. With Beel and Belphie looking on dumbfounded, Rem simply shrugged his shoulders before walking over and opening the fridge. He then opened another can of soda, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Quit callin’ me Snowball!”

“How about Snowcone then?”

“And what the hell are you doing?!” Mammon yelled pointing at the casual Rem.

“I’m having a soda, obviously.” He claimed nonchalantly between sips.

“Rem, now is not the time for that. If you haven’t noticed, we have a situation here.” Gell groaned as he motioned his arms dramatically.

Rem took another sip.

“No, we don’t.” He replied.

“Like hell we don’t, brat! Y’all better start yappin’ before I-”

“Besides, if you did do anything, Marley would kick your ass, so there’s no problem.” Rem answered as he took his free hand and pointed to a picture frame on the shelf.

“Before you what? It’s obvious if you wanted to hurt us, you would have done it by now.”

Mammon backed up a bit from the sudden bluntness and before he could offer his rebuttal, Rem opened his mouth once more.

Everyone turned to look at it and saw Marley with the boys smiling while standing over a large tuna. Mammon stood there dumbfounded while Belphie just held his face and shook his head.

“You really are a moron.” He muttered.

“Hey, you didn’t notice either, Belphie! So don’t think you're above this!”

“You can have one, but if you win, the prize is mine.” Rem claimed.

“Yeah, but I didn’t start making demands and threats.”

And just like that, Mammon and Belphie started a new argument, while leaving Beel, Gell and Rem to their own devices. Beel felt a tug on his shirt and looked down at Rem who offered him a soda. 

Beel just gave a nod and accepted with a smile. Meanwhile, Gell could feel his eye twitch as he watched his twin sharing a drink with one of the home invaders.

“Rem, you scare me sometimes.” He sighed, grabbing another drink.

“That’s because you’re a scaredy-seal.” Rem smiled.

[lsyd25]

Forsaking all others

Okay, so I was planning on writing something new today to break in my brand new (to me) laptop when I found this absolute gem hiding in my google docs. I wrote it several years ago. Don’t judge and I just want to share it with you all. If you like it amazing. Please like and reblog. If you don’t : keep that shit to yourself. That’s not why I’m posting it. As always you are responsible for the content you consume even if you forget that.

Antonia’s hand trembled as she lifted the bottle to her lips. She blinked back tears trying desperately to hold on to a stoic facade. She scowled at the abnormal sign of weakness. In her world, weakness meant death. She couldn’t afford any faults. Her daughter’s life depended-depends on it. She rolled the empty bottle between her brown hands, needing to do something with all her restless energy. Plucking at her quickly disappearing manicure she ruminated on the circumstances that led her to this moment.

Calling him was an act of desperation, and it was a decision she hadn’t made lightly. But Antonia was alone in the world and she needed help. She’d tried all her contacts, called in every favor. Like it or not, Martel would have to do. This was too important to let her pride get in the way.

So lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that someone had slid into the booth opposite hers until the waitress was plunking down two more bottles. After the young girl had sashayed away followed by a leer from her companion, Antonia cleared her throat to gain his attention. Ignoring the part of her that wanted to bare her fangs to the waitress. He was hers dammit. A small voice whispered in her head. Was. He was but he isn’t any longer.

“Not that I’m not flattered, fangs…but why did you call on me?” Martel murmured, turning back to his seatmate. Antonia took a deep breath and tried to ease the tension out of her shoulders. “Because fae-boy,” she shot back. “I need... a favor.” Martel regarded her silently for a long moment. Antonia could feel the muscles in her back protesting how tightly she held herself, waiting for rejection. His next move surprised her. Martel broke out into full on laughter, chuckles, chortles, and even a guffaw or two made their way out. His laughter brought all eyes to their table. Antonia cringed.

And then she snapped. Reaching across the table with inhuman speed she grabbed the laughing man. “Listen you sparkling freak,” she hissed. “Our daughter is missing and like it or not you are my best bet of finding her. It has been a rough three days and I would like a little bit of cooperation if that is not too much for you.” Throwing him down she sat back in a huff and to her surprise, felt tears gathering. Again. She hadn’t cried so much since she actually died.

Red droplets splashed onto the table and she heard Martel swear under his breath. A warm pale hand reached out and covered hers. Antonia lifted her misery lined face to his serious one. His stony face and stern tone brooked no argument, “I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

In response, Antonia pulled out her phone. Pulling up a photo she slid it across the table. “This is Mirabelle. I call her Mirie for short. She’s yours-ours, I mean.” She watched from lowered lashes as he studied the picture of their daughter with an impassive face. His expression never changed but his eyes. Oh God they almost broke her resolve.

“How old is she?”He asked, his eyes devouring the picture in front of him. He lifted the phone in a silent query to look at more. She gestured for him to help himself. “Fa-five,” Antonia whispered brokenly.

“I meant to tell you. I-I picked up the phone so many times but…” She hung her head. Their last argument wasn’t really conducive to sharing any kind of news, much less the discovery that she was with child. “And now she’s missing. She’s my whole world and she’s gone and I…” Martel sighed and slid the phone back to her. “ Said is said and what’s done is done.” He shot her a bitter, twisted smile. Antonia shivered. His blue eyes were so cold.

Hopping out of the booth he held a hand out to her. “All we can do is keep moving forward.” Bright golden eyes caught and held royal blue ones. “Forward,” she murmured and took his hand.

“So this is my humble abode,” Antonia announced. Martel looked around nodding approvingly. The small bungalow was deceptively designed with the main bulk of the house being underground. He resisted the urge to make a snarky comment about dirt and vampirism. It was nice and homey with comfortable child friendly furniture and personalized knickknacks artfully tucked into the various nooks and crannies. It was not just a house but a home. Martel felt an odd tug in his chest. He could easily see the bright vivacious child from the photograph in this living space. It wasn’t a space he would have thought of for her mother; however, the statuesque and stylish woman managed to fit in with her current surroundings just fine.

The woman in question had sunk down into a cushy armchair. Threading her hands into her kinky hair she sighed. Martel remembered that hair. It was the first thing that drew him to her, so unlike his pin straight inky locks, Antonia’s hair had a mind of its own. Small, tightly wound curls tumbling over and around each other, her hair was wild and free which was a direct contrast to the rest of her.

The instant he’d seen it he’d wanted to discover if it was as soft as it looked. Sunshine bright eyes reminding him of liquid gold, cat’s eyes he’d mentioned once to his friend Yoien.  Right now, they were big and sleepy and reminded him of the lazy look of them after a long night filled with sweaty and tangled limbs. He firmly shook his head. There wasn’t any time for that. Mirie was missing, and he was a father on a mission. He tossed his hair back.   “Where’s Mirie’s room?” The husky sound drew Antonia back to the present. She got up gracefully from the chair and led the way to a small hallway. “Over here.” She didn’t mention the brokenness in his tone or the rawness of his voice.  Martel was grateful. Stepping into his daughter’s room, he closed his eyes and allowed his other senses full reign. He mostly pulled in flashes of laughter and a joyful innocence that left him yearning for that time he missed out on. There were bits of vampire magic and fledgling fae glamourie mixed in. He wondered if Antonia had recognized the Gift he’d passed down to their child. His child. Martel shoved the thought away and continued analyzing the space. Ah, there it was. Curiosity tinged with fear. It mingled with ancient magic, tainting the atmosphere of the room lightly. Wait a second, Martel frowned. Bemused. The magic was familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place it. Kneeling, he drew upon his core and opened his energy to the magic in the room. Antonia gasped. The room was freezing. Even though she couldn’t experience the cold, she recognized the amount of sheer energy he had to be expelling. It was immense. Martel puckered his brow, just a little more and he would have a name, a name would lead to motive and segue into what, when, and how. Antonia hovered over his still form anxiously praying that his silence meant a breakthrough in finding her child.

She regretted Martel’s pain but she did not regret keeping their daughter a secret. The life of a vampire was hard and lonely. Her existence relied on pain, blood, and, death. The screams and cries of her victims still echoed in her ears. Antonia thought that she would never reconcile herself completely to what she had become.

Then the one thing happened that she never would have expected. Life came from her womb. This brilliant amazing gift that was her daughter was something she cherished everyday. But, her daughter was a rarity among fae and vampire alike and with Martel being who he was…better not to take the risk and hope for the best. To forget what they had shared once upon a time and walk away for good. But with Mirie tethering them together, walking away this second time was going to be impossible. “Dammit!” Antonia gasped at the harsh sound then realized it had come from Martel. She laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Were you not able to See anything then?” She asked. “Yes and no,” his answer was vague and distracted. “It’s being cloaked. Even with that I can tell it's familiar but we are going to have to do a couple of things to get down to the bottom of this. Do you trust me?” Earnest blue eyes peered into hers. Antonia steeled her spine and looked back at him, unwavering. “Yes.” Her voice was clear and solid.

“Tell me again why this plan requires us to be bonded?” Martel sighed and turned on the bed to face the vampire. “After you tell me why we can’t discuss this in the morning like I already asked. I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything. You always overreact.”

Antonia stiffened, offended. “I do not. I just want a little bit of clarification. That’s all.” She prided herself for her well put answer. He’d have no comeback for that. “Well, I want those five years with my child that you stole but since neither one is happening tonight, will you please get some sleep and can we actually discuss this tomorrow like I already asked. Twice!” Antonia’s mouth turned down and she turned away from Martel and scooted towards the edge of the bed. Martel let out a guttural sigh and flopped on his back. That last line had been a pot shot but he really did need sleep.

Tomorrow they’d have to face his parents, that was enough of a chore to do well rested. After another hour of pretending not to hear her sniffle and faking sleep. Martel gave it up as lost and got up intending to head to the bathroom and recollect himself. Once in the hallway, his feet led him in a different direction and he found himself heading back to Mirabelle’s room.

Once there, he didn’t bother turning on the lights. His vision was enough to get by in the darkened room. He wandered around the room slowly, trying to glean as much about his daughter that he could. Before he knew it he was sitting in the dark, beside her bed clutching a photo of her and her mother to his chest crying silent sparkling tears. Sometime after that, Antonia crept in on silent feet and, saying nothing, sat down beside him and gathered him to her. No words passed between them as they quietly grieved for their lost child.

Antonia woke up alone. Blinking crusty eyes she gave a slow yawning stretch, glancing around the room for a clue where her partner in crime had gone. Mentally shrugging she dragged herself to her room to gather the required items for a much needed shower. One hot shower later found her back in her room blearily blotting out her hair. A quiet good morning had her jumping. “Martel! Please don’t do that.” He grinned. “And miss the sight of that lovely chest in that delectable towel. I think not,” he leered at her. She wrinkled her nose. “Ew,” turning around she remarked, stupidly, “You’re wearing robes. Why are you wearing robes?” Smirking, he handed her a wrapped parcel. “For the same reason you’ll be wearing them. It’s time to meet the parents.”  

Antonia smoothed down the robe’s skirts with a trembling hand, watching as Martel came up behind her in the mirror. “Beautiful,” he breathed. “Court dress becomes you. But there is something missing…” he mused. With a flourish he draped a platinum pendant over her head. She immediately tried to lift it off. “This is too much,” she protested. Laying a calming hand over hers, he shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he countered. “You’ve born my heir; they’ll be expecting much more than that paltry medallion. Women like you are to be cherished and protected. To be seen as doing less is a disservice to me and my House. And as we are posing as a soon to be bonded couple we can’t have that, now can we?” With a huff she yanked her hand from underneath his, inwardly cursing the longing for his warmth as she stepped away from his body. “Apparently not,” was her sardonic reply. “Good, hopefully you’ll accept the rest of the set with more grace,” he countered briskly. “Set?” Antonia replied faintly. Martel shot her a mischievous grin that reminded her of their whirlwind romance six years ago. “Set,” he confirmed.

“So let me get this straight, we are going to travel to the Night Court and meet your parents who may or may not have kidnapped my-our child. Hopefully trick them into letting her go and then just ride off into the sunset?” Antonia was nonplussed at Martel’s affirming shrug in reply. “Basically yes,” he said. “Although you might want to let me do most of the talking and for the love of all that is holy and right, do not, I repeat, do not let us get separated. The Night Court owns all creatures of the night and they will gladly keep you if you wander off.” Antonia bristled at the thought of being owned but his next words had her pondering. “The magic that keeps you has to come from somewhere,” Martel pointed out.

He crossed over to her and started nuzzling her cheek and neck, easily capturing her hands when she went to push him off. “Antonia, listen to me.” The serious expression he wore frightened her. What were they getting themselves into? “There are goblins, trolls, shapeshifters, and lesser demons that hang around the court. They’ll be sniffing you like bloodhounds. If you’re not scent marked in any way the jig is up before we’ve even been given an audience.” Antonia sighed. "I understand, I'll be good," she promised. Martel grinned, "Good, let's go."

The throne room was vast, impressive with sweeping arches and tons of gargoyles. That moved. It might have moved her if she wasn't worried about her missing child and super aware of Martel's hand on the small of her back. Creepy night creatures crawled and limped along the shadows. Antonia even spotted a couple of vampires that she recognized and has long thought dead, only they were chained to ethereal and statuesque creatures that could only be members of the high court. Inwardly cringing at the thought of being enslaved to one of these Unseelie creatures, Antonia leaned in a little closer to Martel for comfort. His reassuring touch calmed her somewhat but the niggling feeling of unease still remained.

Fixing her eyes in front, she focused on the ebony throne ahead. It was macabre, all skulls and bones and screaming spirits and it rose toward the vaulted ceiling where a trio of imps cackled in laughter and called out insults to those gathered below. Martel took his hand off of the small of Antonia's back and held out his arm. Together they approached the throne. As they got closer Antonia could see shimmering air on the throne. A man slowly faded into view as they approached. He was tall and broad with smooth ebony skin and the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. If she hadn't sensed the magic in his aura she would have assumed he was an extension of his throne. He studied them for a long moment and when spoke, Antonia shivered a little, because his voice felt like a physical caress on her spine. It felt like smooth silk sheets and dark decadent promises, disturbingly erotic and full of authority. "My son, thou has vowed never again to step foot in this court. What has caused thee to appear before Us and forsake thy vow?"

Antonia's eyes widened in shock, Martel never said a word or acted like this would be such a grave trip. She felt foolish for not having asked and for the assumptions she made. Martel had released her arm and had gone to greet his father properly. They conversed in low tones and she felt the Holly King's knowing eyes on her more than once, she felt herself  blushing at his frank assessment and apprehensive that he might find her wanting. Finally, Martel returned to her side and retook her arm running his hand alongside her forearm in a gesture of comfort. "I will search for your daughter," the Holly King intoned soberly. "If she is in my realm then she will be found." He turned his gaze inward. Antonia found her hand tightening on Martel's arm at the sight of the king's otherworldly vision. " The child Mirabelle is with my beloved." With these words Martel and Antonia found themselves outside of the throne room. Bewildered, Antonia turned to look at a visibly angry Martel. "What did he mean?" She wondered aloud. Through gritted teeth, he responded, "he meant that she is with my mother."

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Missing This

And the Tedromeda continues with a drunken heart to heart that leaves poor Ted more confused than ever before.

Read on AO3

It’s a Thursday like any other when Nora swings into the staff room, eyes finding him straight away.

‘I hope you’re coming out tonight, Tonks.’ She says, pointing at him with a gleeful grin. ‘Andromeda’s folks are out of town, so it’s gonna be a big one!’ 

She whirls out of the room as quickly as she appeared, leaving behind a room of very confused healers who haven’t yet had their morning coffee.

Andromeda asks him too, quietly during their lunch break while they’re standing in line at the tea room. 

‘I think it will be nice, not having to rush home for once.’ 

‘I’ll be there.’ He tells her, and she smiles. He’ll go anywhere if she keeps smiling at him like that.

But Ted gets held back at the end of his shift by two brothers who stole their dad's wand, one ending up with antlers and the other with a pig snout. After dealing with frantic parents and two screeching boys, one who kept oinking as he cried, the last thing Ted wants is to go out. He wants to go home, pour himself a scotch and have a quiet night in.

It’s only remembering the way Andromeda had quietly checked with him at lunch if he was joining them that makes him stick to the original plan.

The White Lion is in full swing when he arrives, Nora having begged or bribed everyone who was free to make sure Andromeda has a great night. He finds her easily in the crowd, standing around their usual table with her back to him. 

‘Tonks!’ 

He watches Andromeda turn as Nora calls his name, a smile spreading across her face when she sees him. 

‘You came!’ She says brightly when he reaches the table.

‘I said I would.’ 

She rolls her eyes at him and he realises that she’s drunker than he’s ever seen her, he wonders exactly how many drinks she’s managed to have before he got here. ‘You said, but you weren’t here.’

Her hair is loose tonight, falling into her face as she speaks. He pushes it back behind her ear gently. ‘Well, I’m here now.’ 

A slow smile spreads across her face. ‘Yeah. You are.’

‘Tonks! You’ve got some catching up to do, oh shit!’ The moment between them ends abruptly with David Fleming wrapping his arm around Ted’s shoulder, his beer sloshing onto Ted’s shirt. ‘Sorry mate.’ 

Ted does his best to laugh it off, but it’s the shit end to a shit day and this is the last place he wants to be. He knows he should just go, but with how drunk everyone is he feels like someone who is somewhat sober should be there. So he grabs one of the booths and spends most of the night nursing the same beer while everyone around him gets drunker and drunker.

Nora tries to coax him out of it, dropping down onto the seat next to him, swaying as she leans close. ‘You’re grumpy Ted.’ She says, her words slurring. ‘You should stop being grumpy.’

Ted resists the urge to sigh and forces a smile on his face. ‘I’m not grumpy. Just tired.’ 

She narrows her eyes at him. ‘You know what I think?’ She takes a long drink and he wonders if she’s forgotten what she was saying. ‘I think you should just kiss her.’ 

She doesn’t need to say who and a sudden wave of irritation whirls through him. ‘For Christ’s sake, go away Nora.’ 

She scoffs, saying something unintelligible as she stands and trips back to where another round of shots has been ordered. Hopefully, she won’t remember she’s upset with him in the morning.

Feeling a headache starting from the stench of stale beer and fags he decides to head to the beer garden for some fresh air. The cold night is keeping nearly everyone inside, but a single, familiar figure is sitting at one of the tables.

She doesn’t have a coat, so he shrugs his off to drape over her shoulders. A small sound of surprise escapes her and she looks up at him. It’s clear that she’s been crying, the trails of tears are still clinging to her cheeks.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ted asks, his voice ringing with the concern that’s clenching at his heart. He kneels beside her and takes her cold hands in his. ‘Has something happened?’

Andromeda shakes her head. ‘It’s nothing, Ted.’ She says quietly, pulling one hand from his to wipe her cheeks. ‘Please, go back inside.’  But as he watches her, her eyes fill with tears again. 

He moves to sit on the bench next to her. Her leg is warm against his, and she stares at their joined hands. Her tears begin to fall again and he gently brushes them away, his thumb lingering on her cheek.

‘Please tell me what’s wrong.’ He pleads, but she shakes her head. He wraps his arm around her and for a moment she stays where she is, straight-backed and still before she gives in. She buries her face into his chest, sobs rattling through her body. Her hand grips his, holding onto him like an anchor.

He holds her until her crying eases, but when she does still, she stays where she is and he stays quiet, waiting for her to speak.

She won’t meet his eye when she pulls away. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’ She breaks off, wiping her cheeks.

‘It’s ok.’ He says softly, afraid that if he pushes too hard she’ll run away.

Sniffling lightly, she looks forward, away from him. ‘I’m being silly.’ She tries to smile but it slides off her face as she sniffs lightly.

‘Andromeda.’ 

But she doesn’t say anything until finally, she turns to him taking a breath like she’s bracing herself. ‘I’m just going to miss this.’ She says, blinking rapidly as her eyes begin to shine again.

‘Miss what?’ 

Andromeda studies him closely, and he watches her eyes trace his features, they rest on his lips before she quickly looks away. He thinks she’s about to tell him, but instead, a mask falls over her face, cool, and composed. She stands up quickly, letting go of his hand. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing…I’ve just had too much to drink.’ Her voice is clipped. ‘I should go.’ 

Ted finds himself looking at his coat as she holds it out to him, but he ignores it and stands. She still doesn’t look at him. ‘Andromeda–’

‘Just leave it, Ted.’ She snaps, voice cracking, her hands twisting in his jacket. ‘Please, just. Leave it.’ 

He desperately wants to know, wants to help her. He would do anything to make her world better, even for a second. But he feels like she might disappear forever if he pushes her too far, and he can’t think of anything worse than that.

‘Ok.’ He says softly, deciding to back off. ‘Are you right to get home?’

Andromeda glances at him quickly and he sees the mask slip, a brief moment of vulnerability, gone as soon as it appears. ‘I’m staying with Nora.’ 

It doesn’t answer his question, none of his questions have been answered, but he nods anyway. ‘Be safe.’ 

She nods but doesn’t move and Ted has the sudden, wild urge to pull her to him, to kiss her over and over and reassure her that it will all be ok.

But he doesn’t, and she turns, leaving him behind in the cold.

Once she’s back inside, he collapses on the seat, rubbing his hand roughly over his face with a groan. 

Christ, what is he even doing?

The next morning, he opens his locker to find his jacket folded neatly. There’s a small note with the words Thank You written in an elegant script sitting on top of it and his heart races at the sight of it.

He is so completely screwed.

[emilemily]

I’m up at 3 am thinking about you.

Almost one month ago, you passed away due to a fentanyl overdose.

You didn’t tell me you had relapsed, likely because I’m the one whose door you showed up at strung out on meth, and I’m the one who, that very night, brought you to rehab and dropped you off in 2022.

I was your family contact because you didn’t trust your family. I had to answer that phone call and tell them not to allow you to discharge as you screamed at me in the background. I’m the one who celebrated one year clean, two years clean, 3… with you.

Oh my darling, why couldn’t we talk about it? Why did you paint this new guy as a Disney prince? I ask that, yet I know how. You so desperately wanted to cover the reality up, wanted to say those things enough that they became true.

I remember those nights with you in Palm Beach, Florida.

- You showing up because I wasn’t answering the phone, groceries in hand. You’d put them down in the kitchen, ready to come back and cook and then we’d get to talking. Then a glass of wine. Then a whole bottle. Then we called an Uber to take us over to that shitty motel in West Palm to buy some blow and percs off of T.

He’d always let us sample a couple of lines and we’d flirt with each other and kiss to get him to throw in extra. He always did.

On the way back to my place, we’d talk to the Uber. We used to make up these silly fake lives and when one of us said something that didn’t align, the other would nudge them in the ribs and give them that look. “Don’t fuck up the story.”

So many nights like that, that they all became a blur. All the nights spent at the strip club railing lines with strange men in the back booths, forgetting the time and checking our phones to find several texts and missed calls from our flavors of the moment.

When we were together, we kept one another as safe as we could. My twenties almost killed me, and you were right there beside me.

But your twenties killed you. What if I’d never left Florida? Could I have stopped this from happening? Could I have saved you again?

I’ll never know.

I haven’t yet accepted that you’re dead. I text your phone every other day or so, send you reels on instagram. Some part of me knows that is a fruitless endeavor, but yet I persist. What if you answer and say “surprise, it was a huge joke! I’m alive”!!!

But you won’t, Sierra, because you’re dead.

You’re dead and now all of our crazy nights, all of our fights, all of our heart to hearts, all we went through together, the nights you slept cuddling Yuna in your bed because I was out overnight.

It’s all mine to remember now. How very odd. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to shake the guilt of knowing you needed me and you tried to call me the night before you died.

I was too busy playing World of Warcraft to answer.

Life is a short, wicked temptress. She guides us down so many different paths and the length we go is based largely on our trauma, our bad experiences. Our judgement is skewed in those moments.

But yea, she is short. I could die tomorrow, myself. Who is to say I won’t? I don’t want to, but I never imagined you’d die at 27. Nobody is safe.

I can’t sleep, so instead I will just close my eyes and think of this:

The way your hair lightly curled at the ends, the way you did your lipstick bright and your eyebrows always immaculate, the way your eyes twinkled when you wanted to talk shit about a boy I was seeing but knew it would do you know good, the way you’d laugh in the middle of every sentence of a story you were so excited to be telling me, the way life took us both for a bumpy ass ride but you were always there when I needed you and vice versa, the way you never lost the love you had for me even if I sometimes became someone you didn’t recognize.

I always came back to me and you treated me no differently. I just wish I could have seen you come back to you.

The you I knew before the parties and the drugs. Before the nightlife. Before the endless line of boys. Before you ever really had your heart broken.

You died chasing love by trying to fix an addict who pulled you into IV drug use and I wasn’t there.

For that I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.

For what it’s worth, I love you and I hope that whatever is on the other side

Whether that be eternal nothingness as I suspect, or your dad and old friends and paradise

I sure fucking hope it’s beautiful and I hope you’re happy now

God I miss you

[rina-writes]

Say Yes

Summary:  Jack is ready to tie the knot, but knows you’re not a fan of a lot attention. However, he knows that this is a special moment that both of your loved ones would want to enjoy with you. So, he looks for a compromise.

A/N: Thank you @halfmoondaze for this idea.  They were inspired by A Star Was Born and I was like omg yes...

Warnings: Introverted!reader, fem!reader, fluffy

Jack scrutinized the ring from every angle.  He brought it close to his face, his large cerulean eyes narrowing into slits as he looked for an imperfection.  The sales associate visibly perked up when Jack put the ring back in the box; only to return to a disappointed expression when Jack picked the whole box up to inspect again. His pale, long, manicured fingers played with the box, opening and closing it.  He rearranged the ring a couple times before opening and closing it again.  

Feeling the tension, Jack stared at the sales associate apologetically. “I’m just going to look at the sketch one more time.”

The sales associate gave a tight lipped nod and stood back from the counter.  Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket that had been folded over so many times that he had to be careful with it. Jack kept it on his person as all times, even slipping it in the back of his phone case cover to make sure you didn’t find it.  This piece paper had been sketched on, erased, and penned in so many times that only he could really make out all the notes and lines. But, it was his holy grail because in it was what he was sure was your dream ring. It was based on data collected over the last few years you were together.  

The data came from your comments on friends’ rings, your own favorite jewelry pieces, and rings you admired in the media. He would watch your face during romantic comedy movies to see which rings made you gasp. He would follow your eyes in jewelry stores to see where they lingered just a bit longer.  He even enlisted some of his staff to go “undercover” and ask you to help with fake engagement plans in order to understand what you truly liked.  

All in all, the ring took almost nine months to craft it because Jack was so particular.  He wasn’t this picky about anything else, besides his music, but he wanted this to perfect. He didn’t hold back any expense, whatever the jeweler needed to make it clear enough, bright enough, sparkly enough...he would do it. He even went to one of the jewelers you supported whether it was because of their ethical standards or the fact that they just had a special connection for you.

“Thank you, Joanne.” Jack said, finally turning his attention to the sales associate. “It’s been a long ride, but we made it. I’m proposing tonight and I think this is going to get me a yes.”

Joanne smiled.  “Y/n, is a very lucky young woman.  I’m sure she will say yes.”

“I’m the lucky one.”  Jack put down his credit card to make the final payment, slipping the boxed ring into his pocket.  Now, he just had to work up the nerve to ask.

~

You sat at the dinner table at one of your favorite Italian restaurants.  It was a special occasion.  Jack was throwing a private get-together for both of your families and mutual friends to celebrate his year.  It was a very successful year for Jack: another award winning album, several platinum records, and constant praise from the legends of rap.  You were glad that Jack had chosen to share it with those closest to you both instead of the usual club party.  You weren’t super against the club parties, but they did push you out of your comfort zone. You often spent your time sitting in a booth and ordering fruity drinks while you faded into the background.  Jack would check on your frequently before eventually telling you that you could both leave which you would do happily. 

Here, you felt a little less anxious around so many familiar faces.  Granted, every time someone got up to  do a speech and mentioned your name, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.  But, you could deal with that if it meant Jack got to enjoy his special day.

Speaking of Jack, you noticed he was a bit quieter than usual. He wasn’t really eating and when you would mention it to him, he would smile, take a few bites and then change the subject.  You were worried that he wasn’t feeling well so, you asked.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” You placed a hand on Jack’s knee.

Jack was incredibly nervous.  It was not because he thought you would say no.  You both talked about marriage and how that was something you wanted to do in the next year.  He was more concerned about how to ask you.  From watching your reaction in romantic comedy movies, he knew that the grand gestures made you cringe. You would watch the football stadium proposal scenes through the slit of your fingers while “la la la”-ing through the gushy lines.  It was amusing when you were cuddled on the couch watching Netflix, but it definitely wasn’t the reaction he wanted for his proposal to you.

At the same time, Jack had learned from other female friends that it was important to have people they loved close by for the big news.  Most of them said they were usually so overwhelmed with joy that they wanted to share it with anyone.  He also heard from some of his homeboys that making sure she gets her nails done was important for the final picture.  One guy almost got decapitated because his girl had to snap a photo after a hike with dirty fingernails. 

That’s why Jack planned this whole event. So that you would both be dressed to the nine nine in your matching maroon suit and dress respectively. He even had your stylist convince you to do a full spa day including getting your nails, hair and makeup done for the “group” photos later. Everything was coming together perfectly, he just had to not botch it with his little speech.

“Yeah, it’s just, I’ve been thinking about a lot today.” Jack said, looking into your eyes. He kept his voice low to make sure that you knew he was only focused on you.  “Hearing everyone reflecting on my accomplishments has been eye-opening.  It feels like all my dreams are coming true.  But the ones that are really standing out for me are the milestones I accomplished with you.  The places we’ve been, the adventures we’ve had, and most importantly, us really building a life together. It’s been an amazing year. I love you so much.”

“Jack,” You could feel yourself getting teary. “I feel the same way, honestly.  This has been a crazy ride, our relationship.  Being with you has been a dream for me as well.  Around you, I’m such a better version of myself. I love you so much.”

Jack chuckled. “Nah, it’s you that makes me better. You have a good heart. You’re intelligent. You’re goal-oriented. You keep me grounded. Honestly, I don’t know why you stay with me.”

“Jack...”

“--I may never understand what spell I put on you to convince you to be mine, but I hope that I can keep it going for a lifetime.  Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me, Y/N? I promise, I’ll be the best to you until the day I die and the afterlife.”

You mouth fell open slightly.  He placed the box open on the table.  You were both sitting on the corner, so it was only you that could see it clearly.  It was perfect. It was beyond anything you ever dreamed. The perfect cut, color, and size. You felt tears roll down your cheeks and Jack wiped them away with his finger.  You stuck your hand out to tell him to put the ring on as you choked out the words.

“Yes!” You practically screaming the word out as it finally dislodged itself from your throat.

This alerted everyone at the table.  There was tickling of glasses that morphed into full out applause and then it’s final form of whoops of happiness.  You both stood up and Jack leaned in to give you a kiss.  It was soft, definitely family-appropriate, but you could feel his sincerity.  Once the kiss broke, that started the sea of hugs from those around.  Everyone wanted a turn to hug and congratulate you.  It was definitely a lot, being the center of attention for a bit longer than you would have liked, but with Jack by your side, holding your hand tightly, you felt invincible.

[babyboibucky]

Project V: Wherever This Brings Us

Pairing: College!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You confront Bucky about his date at the museum.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Slight violence (nothing serious), unprotected p in v penetration without foreplay, more feelings, an angry Steve lol

A/N: I literally rescheduled a work call at a much later time to post this LMFAO

Project V Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You couldn’t understand the emotion that was bubbling up inside of you as you headed to the museum. It was such a familiar yet new feeling that you honestly didn’t want to pay attention to. It was such a bad emotion and it’s been a long time since you felt it that it was making your bile rise up to your throat.

Hell no, you weren’t going to vomit.

Not especially in front of Bucky and this girl he took out on a date. Without your knowledge. He didn’t even ask for your permission, didn’t say anything vague to give you a clue about it. Nada. Nothing. Bucky gave you nothing.

“Excuse me, miss. You need a ticket to get in.” the security stopped you as soon as you stomped into the entrance.

“Oh, I’ll be in and out, I swear. You wouldn’t even notice.” you said with a chuckle and tried to walk away until the security grabbed your arm.

“We can’t let you in. No ticket, no entrance.” he said, tipping his head towards a sign which said the exact same words.

“Goddammit, how much is the ticket and where can I buy it?” you huffed out.

“The booth is over there.” he said, pointing at the counter at the side of the entrance, where the line was fucking long for the first time in forever.

You cursed to yourself as you marched towards the line, finding the end of it but to no avail. Approaching a group of students in line, you questioned why there were so many people lining up when the museum was never this busy even on weekends.

“There’s a special exhibit for Star Wars at the science section. Today’s the last day.” the student said.

Of fucking course! It’s the only reason why Bucky took this girl to the museum, to see the Star Wars exhibit and since you were out on a date with Pietro, he decided to find someone else to drag along.

It had to be that because if Bucky gave you a different reason for going on Bumble, you were most definitely going to kick his balls. Just the thought of Bucky flirting with someone made your blood boil, and so you could no longer wait and headed towards the front of the line and squeezed in before the next person could even approach the counter.

“Hey, you’re not allowed to cut the line!” the girl behind you complained.

“And do I look like I fucking care?” you snapped, “I’m already so fucking pissed off so do me a favor and stop bitching!” you added before demanding the lady at the counter to give you a ticket.

She was about to say something but you merely lifted an eyebrow at her and that was enough to shut her up. The lady quickly gave you your ticket and you made sure to wave it right in front of the security’s face when you walked inside.

And so your hunt began.

Like a predator in search of its prey, you quickly went around the museum and scanned every person that passed you by. It wasn’t until ten minutes into your hunt that you noticed a familiar brunette walking around the prehistoric area with a brown-haired girl next to him.

You walked slowly towards them, keeping your eye on Bucky and observing his gestures. He was throwing his head back as he laughed, scrunching his nose and running his fingers through his hair before licking his lips— he was most definitely flirting.

Taking a deep breath in, you shook your arms and stretched your neck before approaching them. You kept on telling yourself to stay reserved when you start confronting them, to act like you were there just to check in on Bucky and his date.

“These are so amazing!” The girl exclaimed, looking over at the t-rex fossil display. “I’m still amazed at the creativity of whoever thought about dinosaurs.” She added and you couldn’t hold back from making your presence known.

“Oh my god, your date is pretty.” You said.

Bucky turned and the moment he saw you, his eyes widened and almost popped out of their sockets. The girl looked at you with confusion and then glanced at Bucky.

“Thanks, um, do you know him?” The girl asked and you snorted.

“Don’t thank me, I meant to say you were pretty dumb.” You bluntly said before making a face at Bucky.

“Really? A girl who doesn’t know that dinosaurs are real?” You asked.

The girl gasped, “Excuse me?”

You rolled your eyes at her, “I hate to break it to you but dinosaurs aren’t exactly an invention. They actually existed.” You said before turning to Bucky again, “What the fuck are you doing, Bucky?” You asked.

The girl grunted, “Bucky, what’s going on? Who is she?” She asked, holding onto Bucky’s arm.

You grinned at Bucky, “Go on, tell her.” You said before an idea hatched, “Or better yet, why don’t you show her your home screen wallpaper.”

Bucky smiled nervously, forcing out a dry laugh, “What do you mean?”

The girl was obviously confused and kept on asking who you were. “Like I said, show her your wallpaper and that’ll answer her question.”

Bucky swallowed hard and was unable to speak up. He quickly showed his date his lockscreen, a photo of Sailor Moon.

“I don’t get it.” His date said.

“I said home screen, Bucky. Not lockscreen.” You told him through gritted teeth, “Show. Her.”

Bucky exhaled and shook his head, “Nope.”

“James.”

“Who’s James?” The girl asked.

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.” You said, keeping your glare at Bucky who started sweating.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” You warned but Bucky obviously didn’t want to do it.

So you snatched his phone out from his hand and showed his wallpaper to his date, almost shoving his phone right onto her face.

“Those are my tits! Bucky and I fuck almost on a daily basis!” You exclaimed out loud, ignoring the strange looks from people around.

Bucky clamped a hand over your mouth shushing you, “She’s fucking around!” He told his date.

“Then whose boobs were those?!” She asked gruffly.

Bucky struggled to shut you up, pressing his palm against your mouth hard until you managed to bite his hand away from your face.

“Tell her the truth!” You demanded.

“Tell her what? That we’re just best friends with benefits?! Fine! Okay, Dot, this is my best friend and we sometimes fuck! You happy?!” He said.

Bucky’s date, who now has a name, slapped Bucky in the face before walking away. You cackled at Bucky who looked at you incredulously.

“You ruined my date.” He accused you.

Your jaw dropped, “A date you never told me about! What the fuck is that?!” You angrily asked.

“I got bored and downloaded Bumble!” He explained.

“You said to come back to you after my date with Pietro! Which by the way, I asked for your permission before actually agreeing to.” You said.

“Well, I didn’t think that I needed to ask for your permission given that you were already out on a date when I decided to do the same thing.” Bucky said and rubbed his cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You are pissing me off right now, Bucky. If you don’t tell me why the fuck you suddenly went out on a date with that idiot, I am going to hurt you.” You threatened.

“Why do I need to have a reason for that?” Bucky asked irately.

“You know what I’m talking about. Play dumb again and I swear to god I’m going to cut a little bitch boy.” you threatened.

“Like I said, I got bored and decided to give Bumble a try.” Bucky poorly explained.

“You wanted revenge, didn’t you?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You hated that I went out with Pietro. You wanted to see the Star Wars exhibit with me but I was on a date and so you downloaded Bumble and invited a stupid girl on a date to get your revenge while also seeing the Star Wars exhibit. Tell me I’m wrong.” you challenged.

Bucky actually looked impressed, but the look on his face quickly changed. “Well, I thought she was cute so I swiped right. That’s the only reason why I asked her out.” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Liar.” you insisted. “Why would you randomly do that after shoving your dick in between my tits this morning?!” you almost yelled, your voice echoing all around the museum.

“Okay! Because I hated the thought that those same tits could be dangling right in front of Pietro’s fuckin’ Sokovian face and I needed a distraction!” Bucky exploded.

“You said I can go and fuck him!” you defended.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that!” Bucky said.

“You’re a dumbass, Bucky!” you screamed at him before punching his throat.

-

“For the love of god, stop fucking in public!”

You and Bucky turned around and saw an aggravated Steve approach the both of you inside the precinct.

“We didn’t fuck, Steve.” Bucky said, his hoarse voice making you snicker to yourself.

Steve frowned, “What happened to your voice? And what did you do to get you both detained? Again?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

The officer at the table cleared his throat, “The two of them were yelling vulgar things at each other in the museum before she throat-punched him. In front of preschoolers out on a field trip. They’re now banned from the museum.”

“You what?! You promised you wouldn’t get violent if I told you where Bucky went!” Steve gasped at you.

You only shrugged, “I didn’t promise anything, Steve.” you explained as you shook your head.

Bucky stood up, “You were the one who told her?! Traitor!” he said.

“She threatened to hurt me, Bucky.” Steve explained.

“Pussy.” Bucky told Steve before sitting back down.

“No, Bucky. If there’s anyone who’s a pussy, it’s you!” you pointed a finger at him.

The officer slammed the desk with his hands, silencing the chaos in the room. He let out another exasperated sigh as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. You and Bucky glanced at each other before nervously looking up at the officer.

“I will let the two of you off easily just because this entire thing seems to be a result of immaturity. But I will be requiring a total of 50 hours of community service starting tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned, “She hurt me, I shouldn’t be punished! I deserve justice!”

The officer glared at him, “Plus 30 more hours for implying that I’m being unjust. That makes it a total of 80 hours of community service.”

You cursed Bucky, “See what your bitch ass did!” you said and punched his shoulder.

“Another 20 hours for yet another act of violence. 100 hours of community service. Boy, if you don’t get the two of your friends out of here, I will be requesting a warrant of arrest.” the officer told Steve who quickly dragged the both of you out.

-

Steve slammed the door behind him and commanded that the both of you sit. He rubbed his face with his hand before letting out a deep and heavy sigh. You and Bucky slowly sat down on his bed, waiting for Steve to speak up.

“I’m so tired of the both of you dragging my ass into every mess.” he admitted.

“Then I’ll make Sam my emergency contact from now on.” Bucky said.

Steve glared at him, “If you did, he wouldn’t come to save your ass. So, you’re welcome. Both of you.” he said.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” you mumbled.

Steve bitterly chuckled, “Don’t apologize to me.” he said before glancing at Bucky, “You two need to talk. And I mean seriously, like adults.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky asked.

“Bucky, I swear to god I’m this close to actually hauling your ass out the window.” Steve warned and it immediately shut Bucky up.

Steve headed for the door, “No one is allowed to get out of this room unless everything has been settled. Talk. Look, if you need to hump each other to fix things, by all means, hump away because I cannot deal with the two of you acting like kids throwing a tantrum.” he said and gave you both one last look before leaving the room.

“You heard Steve, talk.” you said.

Bucky turned to you, “Why me? Ladies first, talk.” he snapped back.

“You are such a fucking coward!” you grunted, about to rip all of your hair out.

“And you’re so bossy!” Bucky said and stood up from the bed.

He paced back and forth before looking at you again, “I want to punch you so bad. My throat actually hurts because of what you did, I can’t believe you did that right in front of kids!” he said before coughing.

You stood up and squared up to Bucky, “Fuck them kids! That’ll teach them not to fuck around.” you said.

“I’m so close to punching you right now, if you only knew.” Bucky said, gritting his teeth.

“Then punch me.” you challenged.

“I’m not doing that.” Bucky said in disbelief.

“See? You’re a coward!” you said.

Bucky’s jaw tensed, “I’m not a coward. Say that again and I will punch your tits.” he said.

You laughed, “No you won’t, because you love my tits.” you said confidently.

“Maybe I do, but you’re provoking me right now and your tits are not an exception at this moment.” he said softly.

“Then punch me, Bucky.” you said.

Bucky exhaled as he looked down at you, the blue in his eyes gone and replaced by darkness. You faltered a bit, afraid that you might have gone too far because this was the first time you’d ever seen Bucky stare at you like that— like he was truly mad at you. For a moment you thought that he might actually physically hurt you but he didn’t and instead, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you into a fierce kiss.

It was rushed and messy, the kiss with Bucky that you willingly returned with the same amount of fervor. There was nothing soft nor affectionate in how the both of you started undressing each other. The anger was immediately replaced by the pure unadulterated need to release tension before one of you could even explode.

Bucky had you on his bed, with your wrists pinned above your head as he pushed your underwear aside. With no prior preparation, Bucky slid inside of your cunt and surprisingly, there wasn’t much pain from the sudden intrusion.

“Can’t believe you’re already so fucking wet.” he grunted as he pulled out until only the tip of his cock was inside of you.

You whined at the loss of friction, your legs opening wider for Bucky to fully put his weight on you. He chuckled against your neck, “What? Fighting gets your pussy going?” he teased before slamming back into you, causing your body to jolt upwards.

“Stop talking and fuck me already.” you hissed and lifted your head up enough to catch Bucky’s bottom lip in between your teeth, tugging at it hard until it bled.

“What’s up with you and violence?” Bucky asked, licking his lips before kissing you hard, letting you taste the metallic tang of his blood.

Clenching hard around Bucky had his grip on your wrists to loosen up, giving you the opportunity to flip him around until you were on top. You tilted your head at him as you slowly gyrated your hips against his.

“What’s up with you getting on my nerves all the damn time?” you taunted before gripping his neck, using it for leverage as you bounced on his cock.

Bucky slapped your hand away as he coughed, “My throat is off limits!” he wheezed, “You wanna kill me or what?” he asked, annoyed.

He was able to flip you again but doing so only ended up with you fighting back for dominance until the both of you rolled out of the bed and onto the wooden floor. No words nor quips were exchanged from then on, having the desperate need to orgasm in hopes of easing away the tension.

Bucky let you ride him, his fingers gripping your hips and guiding you up and down his hard cock. Every single time he lifted his hips up to meet yours made you whimper, edging you closer and closer to your sweet release.

“Bucky, ‘m close…” you whined, nuzzling your face into his neck.

He cradled your head and kissed your temple before carefully switching the position, placing you down on the floor before taking your legs and putting them above his broad shoulders. He moved your hair away from your face before running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“It’s okay, you can cum.” he said before kissing you hard at the same time he pounded into you fast.

Your fingernails raked along his back, leaving your marks as you moaned into his mouth. Your toes curled and your eyes burned with tears when Bucky hit your sweet spot. Your abdomen spasmed and with one forceful thrust, Bucky sent you over the edge. You let out a breathy moan as you came, your pussy squeezing his cock tightly it had him cumming at the same time.

Bucky moaned out your name as his hips stilled, allowing your throbbing cunt to milk his cock dry. Your body jolted with aftershocks when Bucky carefully moved, thrusting into you a few more times until his body dropped on top of yours.

A few minutes passed by with nothing but silence and your breaths. Bucky rolled onto his back and rested for a couple of seconds before turning on his side to look at you.

You stared at the ceiling before swallowing hard, “I don’t like it when you flirt with someone else.” you finally admitted, your voice almost inaudible.

“I don’t like it when you entertain someone else either.” Bucky responded, reaching out to hold your face, turning it to look at him.

“Then why did you tell me to go fuck Pietro? You said to come back to you after and then I’d know the reason whether we were exclusive or not?” you asked.

Bucky licked his lips, “Because I got offended that you even had to ask.” he said before looking up at the ceiling, “I always thought that it was obvious that we were...sort of...you know. We have sex but platonically. I mean, we’re best friends. But also I thought that we aren’t? But not like enemies, just...you know what I’m saying. And when you asked for my permission, I thought that this meant nothing to you because you actually considered entertaining someone else.” he said.

“I should have said that but you know how terrible I am in...these types of things.” Bucky further explained.

“Yeah, you’re terrible at talking.” you said before laughing softly, “But so am I.” you added.

“I mean you did punch me instead of explaining.” Bucky said.

You cackled out loud, “I got carried away! I’m sorry, I punched you. But seeing you flirt with that dumb bitch?” you said, “I was so offended you went for someone like her.” you said.

“I lied because she was the first person who popped into Bumble and I swiped right immediately. I was angry and was desperate to get you out of my mind.” he said before humming, “So, did you and Pietro…” he carefully asked.

You groaned and covered your face with your hands, “Almost.” you admitted, “But I moaned out your name instead.”

Bucky sat up from the ground and looked at you with disbelief, “No, you did not.” he gasped.

“I did.” you moaned in embarrassment, keeping your face covered.

Bucky laughed, “I’m flattered but embarrassed for you.” he said in between his chuckles. “I can’t believe you did that.” he hollered.

You sat up and pushed his shoulder, “I fucking hate you.” you said but ended up laughing along with him.

“I was so excited to tell you about it, I thought we could get a good laugh at it. I also hate to boost your ego but Mister Buba is bigger than his peepee. I asked him to show me. I said I needed to know.” you told Bucky.

Bucky choked, “You asked him?!”

You told Bucky everything and reassured him that Pietro was truly a friend, and a good one at that. However, you didn’t mention anything about the talk you had with him about you and Bucky. Things may have been clarified between the two of you, but there was one more thing that you wanted to know.

“We suck at this, you know?” Bucky said.

You nodded, “Can I ask you one last thing?” you asked, “And I want the truth, no bullshitting nor weird analogies.” you reminded Bucky.

“I’ll try.” Bucky said.

“When you...hmm…” you cleared out your throat, realizing how difficult it actually was to be straightforward about it.

“When we played Never Have I Ever...when you put a finger down in that one particular round...was it...how do I say this…” you scratched your neck.

Bucky sighed, “How about we talk comfortably in a way that we will both understand each other? Because I know that we both suck at actually communicating.” he suggested.

You nodded, “Okay, alright. I’ll try.” you said and pondered for a moment.

“Was Sam really the person you thought of?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head, “No.”

Your breath hitched, “So did you mean that...you...me...no, shit.”

“I…” Bucky interrupted, “I love…” he started.

You nodded and lifted your eyebrows at him as you waited for him to continue. “You love…?” you asked.

Bucky looked like he was about to pop a vein with how much he was struggling, “Iloveyourtitsandpussy.” he said in one quick breath.

You were about to complain about his statement when he continued, “And I mean I don’t want...anybody else’s tits and pussy. If you catch my drift…” he said and cleared his throat.

You bit the insides of your cheeks and nodded casually, “I think…” you said and then coughed a few times before inhaling, “I think that...my pussy also...loves Mister Buba…” you blushed, whispering the last part before looking away from Bucky.

When you looked up, Bucky was failing at concealing his grin. His face was red and it probably wasn’t just because of the rough fucking from earlier. He ran his fingers through his hair before composing himself.

“Mister Buba is pleased to hear that.” he said.

“He better be.” you said.

“Look, I know this is...weird? We don’t have to rush into anything, at least for me. What do you want to do now?” Bucky asked.

You nodded, “I know, I feel the same way, Buck. I mean, it scares me. And I’m happy with what we currently have and...are you?” you asked, hoping to get the same answer from him.

Bucky nodded reassuringly, “Yeah, I’m happy too.” he said, “We don’t have to change a thing.” he suggested and you agreed.

“Wherever this brings us?” he asked hopefully.

“Wherever this brings us.” you repeated. “And can we just start talking casually about...us? In a way we’re both comfortable in?” you asked again.

Bucky let out a breath, “Okay. Let’s swear on our pierced nipples.” he said, placing a finger on his nipple.

You groaned at his action but did the same thing, placing your finger on your pierced nipple before swearing.

“I swear on my pierced nipple.” you said monotonously.

Bucky nodded again, “I swear on my pierced nipple.” he repeated and was about to lean in for a kiss when the door slammed open.

“Steve, you wanna go grab some—” Sam immediately stopped as soon as he entered the room, seeing you and Bucky sitting on the floor, completely naked with both your fingers touching your respective nipples.

Bucky screamed at him, throwing a pillow into his face before grabbing his blanket to wrap around your naked body.

“Ever heard about knocking?!” you exclaimed.

Sam blinked, completely unfazed at the scene before him. “Look, I don’t care about catching you both fucking but why the fuck are y’all touching your nipples like that? Not to kinkshame but that’s kinda weird.”

“Get out, Sam!”

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

PHANTOM!!!

I got to see one of my favorite movies on a big screen today!

First, a couple random things about the day...I worked early this morning before the movie, and tried to pick up a Bruegger’s sandwich beforehand, so I could eat my lunch during the first movie...but the line was so long, and the people were moving so slowly, that I had to leave without a sandwich.  And the mall where my theater is located doesn’t have any kind of restaurant where I could pick up easy to hide food...and there was no way I was going to pay $17.00 for a pizza at the AMC that is probably 97% grease....so my lunch was gummi bears and a diet coke.  Only really bring it up because by the end of Phantom, I was starting to feel the fact that I needed real food and water, lol.

Also, my theater just...forgot to turn on the screen.  1:00 rolled around and we waited...and waited...and after a few minutes, myself and someone else, I believe went and told an employee that nothing was happening in our theater.  A few minutes later, the screen pops on, with the Creature of the Black Lagoon playing with no sound...so they basically had pressed play in the booth but didn’t think to look in the theater.  So, they rewound it back to the beginning and we started fresh...and then after a couple more minutes, they finally turned off the lights (after a reminder from another audience member).

ANYWAY...here’s some random thoughts from watching Phantom ‘43 in a theater:

~I don’t know if something was up with our print, but it seemed a lot less clear in comparison to my Blu-Ray...the colors were more muted and darker...just a little thing that I mostly only noticed at the beginning.

~I was right about some people being confused at the beginning...because the movie opens with singing in French, with no subtitles.  It was one of the only times I heard talking in the theater, thankfully...but I think the people talking were using an Audio/Visual tool to help them hear the movie or read captions...and I think since there are none for the opera scenes, it made it challenging for them.  Sadly, they left about halfway through.  A couple other people left after about 30 minutes, too...I imagine they might have been expecting the Lon Chaney film.

~THE MUSIC SOUNDS SO GOOD IN A THEATER, HOLY SHIT.  I was like a little kid, listening to Nelson Eddy sing....especially that final opera...that sounded unbelievable.

~CLAUDE RAINS/ERIQUE CLAUDIN.  HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOU CAN BREAK MY HEART EVEN MORE??  I CANNOT.  When he is playing his concerto on the piano after being fired, you can see him choking back tears and I wanted to cry with him.

I mean, look at him!!  

I never fully noticed this when I would watch it on my TV...but now...so. many. feels.

~The sound design is really enhanced in a theater.  When M. Pleyel tells Claudin to get out, you can hear how ragged Claudin’s breath is...he is about to lose it...not in a rage way, but in a desperate, trying not to cry way.  Again...ow, my feelings...

~I only heard the audience laugh two, three times in the entire movie...one is when M. Vechers is doing his “long nose, big red beard” shtick in the manager’s office.  The other times were during Anatole and Raoul’s banter...I’ll get to that.

~I feel like Jane Farrar never gets enough love for her role in this movie...she’s a great diva bitch and her voice is STUNNING.

~So, we’re in the lair...and the concerto is playing above, and Claudin is playing the piano...Christine starts to recognize the song, and the shot on Claudin, once again, BREAKS MY HEART.  He has this look on his face where he sees her recognize the song, and he’s thinking that this is the first step to her learning the truth.  It’s such a quiet, subtle moment that is hard to catch at first, because of the mask...but damn.

~The most audible laugh from the audience came from our favorite bromance/romance, Anatole and Raoul.

A: “That Policeman!”

*knock”

C: “Come in!”

R: “Christine! *sees Anatole*  Oh.”

A: “Oh.”

That dejected “Oh” from Anatole got a real nice chuckle from my audience...and I’m sitting in the back just silently cheering that these two are about to go start their new life together. :)

All in all, this was such a great time...I never thought this movie would be shown on a big screen (especially by AMC), so this was a really nice treat!

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ San- Back to you (oneshot)

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive, university au.

Pairing: badboy!San x reader (fem)

Word Count: 7.3K

Warnings: profanities, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of bullying and cheating, drink spiking, and attempted sexual assault.

Except Ateez, all other names are fictional.

"I don't understand how these stupid people party here when we've got exams in two weeks," your bestfriend, Doyeon, muttered under her breath while scribbling down some notes. You both were at a café in your university, studying for the upcoming exams.

You chuckled, glancing up at her from your notebook. "Your boyfriend is one of those stupid people who are partying right now."

She rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I want to smack Yunho with this," she held up her notebook, making you snort. "I'm surprised you don't get frustrated when San is literally doing the same thing."

"Well, it's his life," you said. "I'm not his parent who can nag at him to study."

San and you have been dating for a little over eight months now; other than Doyeon and San's friends, no one else knew about your relationship. Doyeon and Yunho were also dating for a while now. You both didn't really know why the boys didn't want other people to know about your relationship, but you both just went with the flow despite witnessing girls throwing themselves at them everyday. Doyeon was really calm about the whole situation, but you actually weren't even though you never let it show; you were quite worried about San leaving you for other women who were like him. You never understood why he's dating someone like you: the type who rarely parties, rarely drinks, never smokes, decently studies and gets good grades, never gets involved in fights; the opposite of him, basically.

Doyeon was about to say something, but your conversation was interrupted by someone who suddenly sat beside you in your booth, placing a textbook on the table. "Don't mind me, ladies," one of your university's badboys, Kangmin, said. "There was no place to sit, so here I am."

Ji Kangmin was handsome, and a typical badboy from what you've heard. You didn't really know much about him personally, but you knew his friend group and your boyfriend's group were rivals and often got into fights.

"I'm surprised you're here," Doyeon stated, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be at some party?"

"I don't party when exams are near," he said with a small smile. "I know I don't have a good reputation, but unlike other people here who have the same reputation as me, I actually want to score well and decently graduate." You were stunned, not expecting to hear that from someone like him. Well, maybe all badboys aren't the same.

-

"Babe!" San whined sleepily when you pulled his blanket off his body. "God, my head fucking hurts."

"Serves you right for drinking all night," you said, running a hand through his messy black hair.

"But the party was epic," he mumbled, eyes closing at the way you played with his hair.

After a few minutes, San took some painkillers and got up to take a shower. When he finished, he immediately pulled you into a hug. "I missed you," he said, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You chuckled. "You saw me yesterday morning."

"But that was in class," he murmured, placing soft kisses on your neck, making your heart race. "I didn't get to talk to you."

"Then maybe you should start talking to me in class," you said and immediately regretted it when you felt San tense up.

San moved a step back to look at you. "Babe, you know I can't do that," he stated. "I don't want people to know about us or start—"

"Yeah, I know," you cut him off with a small smile, hiding your disappointment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine," he said, kissing your forehead. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?"

"Um, actually, I have to go back to my dorm," you said, making San frown and ask why. "I've got a study session with Doyeon," you lied; you just didn't feel like being here at the moment.

San sighed, cupping your cheeks. "Babe, you study so much. These exams don't matter much."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "San, these are end of the first semester exams. They're extremely important."

San didn't say anything; he only leaned down to capture your lips with his own. "Stay for a little while, please," he murmured against your lips. Before you could protest, he kissed you again, this time more passionately. He gently pushed you onto his bed, hovering above you before reconnecting your lips. Your hands wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape. One of San's hands slipped under your blouse, moving to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze. You gasped due to his actions and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Your phone began ringing but both of you ignored it. You were getting wetter by the second and you could feel San's growing bulge pressing against you. When your phone rang for the fourth time, San pulled away with an annoyed sigh. You chuckled, getting up from his bed to get your phone from your bag.

"Hello?" you answered.

"Where are you?! Class is gonna start in ten minutes!" Doyeon exclaimed.

"What? What class? All our classes were canceled for today."

"Mr. Byun said he's gonna take class today. Didn't you check your email?"

"Fuck. I'll be there in five." You hung up and quickly checked your reflection in San's mirror, reapplying your lip balm and tying your hair into a ponytail. San's eyes were on you the entire time.

"Are you ditching your lovely boyfriend for a class?" San asked with a pout. "Especially when you made him get all hard?"

"Yes," you replied with a small giggle. "I'll make it up to you when I'm done, I promise." you placed a quick kiss on his lips before rushing to your dorm to collect your stuff.

-

"Can I sit here?" you heard someone ask, making you look up from your notebook. Ji Kangmin was giving you a small smirk. "Seats are full."

"Go ahead," you said, returning your attention back onto your books. Fortunately, Kangmin studied quietly, not disturbing you even once.

"Why is this so hard?" you muttered under your breath, eyebrows furrowing in irritation due to the differentiation problem you've been breaking your head for.

"Need help?" Kangmin asked.

"Are you good at calculus?"

He snorted, showing you the cover of his textbook. "I'm a math major, darling." Your eyes widened, not expecting that at all. "I thought you knew but you clearly don't," he said with a chuckle. "But I know you're a computer science major." He reached for your notebook, scanning through what you've written. "Ah, so this is where you went wrong," he murmured before explaining everything to you.

After a good three hours of studying, you got up and stretched your arms. Kangmin helped you with a few sums and told you many tricks and tips to save time and make the problems easier to solve. He walked with you to your dorm building since his was right opposite yours. You caught a few people staring at the two of you, but you brushed it off; Kangmin was popular, so obviously they would stare. You had to admit, it felt quite weird to see people staring at you. You were sure they all would react the same way if you were with San.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kangmin grinned, running his hand through his brown hair. You nodded with a smile before entering your dorm building.

-

You spent the entire week studying with Kangmin and sometimes Doyeon joined the two of you. You were really anxious about the exams, but Kangmin managed to make you calm down a little; you were really grateful for his company.

"So Jihoon asked me out and I said yes!" Hyewon said, making you and Doyeon squeal.

"Girl! I told you this day would come!" Doyeon exclaimed, making Hyewon blush. You and Doyeon teased her for blushing, laughing at how her cheeks got even pinker.

San secretly glanced at you from across the classroom, smiling at the sight of you laughing; he thought you were absolutely beautiful.

"What's he doing here?" Jongho muttered, making San and Mingi follow his line of sight.

"Probably here to find someone to fuck," Mingi said in an unbothered tone.

San focused his attention back on you until that very person tapped your shoulder. "Why the fuck is he talking to my girl?!"

You turned to look at the person who tapped your shoulder. "Oh, hey, Kangmin! What are you doing here?" you asked.

He pulled a notebook from his bag, handing it over to you. "I accidentally took your notebook yesterday, so I came to return it," he said. "Sorry about that."

"Oh no, it's okay, don't worry about it," you smiled. He was about to say something, but your professor arrived, so he had to leave and go to his own class.

After the lecture ended, you had lunch with Doyeon, Hyewon, and Jihoon at your dorm's dining hall. You couldn't help but gush about how great Hyewon and Jihoon's chemistry was; they were the cutest couple you have ever seen.

Your phone rang and you picked it up as it was San. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" San asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"At my dorm's dining hall," you replied. "Why?"

"Come to your room right now," he said and hung up before you could say anything. You quickly had the last few bites of your food before excusing yourself, telling your friends you had some work to do.

You made your way over to your room, spotting San right outside your door, wearing a blue hoodie with the hood up and a black mask. You unlocked your door with your key-card, feeling a little anxious due the serious look in your boyfriend's eyes. He closed the door before moving to sit on your bed.

"Sannie, what's wrong?" you asked, moving to stand in front of him. He stared up at you, staying silent for a while before he took off his mask, tossing it on your desk.

"Why did Ji Kangmin talk to you today?"

"He accidentally took my notebook yesterday so he came to return it," you answered honestly.

San raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday? Why were you with him yesterday?" he asked in a stern tone.

"We were studying. He was helping me with calculus."

San scoffed, getting off your bed. "I'm sure that's not what his true intentions are. Stay away from him." San's words annoyed you.

"And how do you know what his true intentions are?" you asked. "We were literally just studying, that's all."

"I don't fucking like him, Y/N. He isn't a good person and I don't want him anywhere near you. So please just stay away from him."

You sighed, glancing at the tiny cat tattoo on San's finger. "Fine..."

San gently cupped your cheek, making you look at him. He didn't like how disappointed you looked and he couldn't help but think about Kangmin stealing you away from him. "Baby... please trust me, he's just trying to get into your pants." You wanted to tell him that all those girls who flirt with him wanted the same, but you knew he already knew that and he liked the attention he got.

"Okay..." You moved away from him, picking up your textbook from your desk and placing it on your bed. "Do you wanna study with me?" you asked San.

"Nah, I'm not in the mood to study."

"You never are," you snorted, earning a wink from him.

"You study, I'll just take a nap here beside you," he said, placing a kiss on your forehead, lying down on your bed.

"Don't try anything, San," you warned him, lying down beside him. He chuckled, placing an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

San fell asleep while you studied. When you took a small break, you couldn't help but admire your sleeping boyfriend; he looked so angelic... ethereal, even. You placed a light kiss on his cheek before slowly getting off the bed to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, San was awake. "How long did I sleep?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Almost two hours," you said, returning to your bed.

"Oh... oh crap! I should get ready. I've got a party to go to tonight," he said, stretching his arms. "Do you wanna come?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You already know my answer to that."

He chuckled, kissing your head. "Have fun studying, babe."

---

"Finally!" Doyeon yelled in happiness. "We're finally done after two weeks of torture!"

"Thank god we have an entire week off," you said, gently massaging your aching wrist.

"These exams were way harder than I expected," Hyewon said and you agreed. "You both are coming for Kang Hyunsuk's party tonight, right?"

"Of course! It's in a huge mansion, you know? Besides, I need to get drunk and laid in luxury," Doyeon said, making you and Hyewon laugh.

You quickly got ready at Doyeon's dorm in the evening before taking a cab to Kang Hyunsuk's mansion that was fortunately not too far away.

The mansion was decorated with LED lights inside and out. The large hall was converted into a dance floor and he even hired a DJ. You were sure more than half of the students at your college was here, and there were certainly a lot of people from the neighboring colleges as well.

Doyeon grabbed your hand, pulling you to the large kitchen where the drinks and snacks were. You both took two shots of vodka each before you greeted some of your classmates. Doyeon was already really tipsy due to her poor alcohol tolerance. On the other hand, you took another shot and you were still quite sober.

"Wow, Y/N, you look so hot!" Hyewon said, approaching you with Jihoon.

You were wearing a lacy dusty-rose bralette with black ripped jeans and combat boots. The bralette showed off more cleavage than you'd usually show, but you were feeling a little extra today.

You noticed Yunho approaching the kitchen with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, his eyes scanning Doyeon from head to toe. You nudged Doyeon with your elbow, gesturing to Yunho with your eyes. She glanced around, eyes landing on Yunho who gave her a smirk. She smiled at him before moving towards him. She whispered something in his ears, making him drag her away immediately. You weren't expecting your bestfriend to ditch you this early, but oh well.

"Hey Y/N," Seonghwa greeted you. "Have you seen San or Jongho?"

"Nope, I came to the kitchen as soon as I got here," you replied, pouring yourself another shot.

"Ah, all right." Seonghwa and Hongjoong took a drink before they disappeared into the crowd.

One of your friends dragged you outside to the area beside the swimming pool; she wanted to introduce you to some people from another university. You spotted San, Jongho, Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang on the other of the pool, surrounded by girls as usual. There were a few guys there and they were all playing a game of spin the bottle. There was a girl sitting on your boyfriend's lap, and that annoyed you a lot. You couldn't do anything about it since San didn't want anyone to know about your relationship. When you got to see the girl's face, your eyes widened; it was your ex-bestfriend, Park Hyejoo. You scoffed in disbelief; San knew who she was and what she did to you in high school, yet he let her sit on his lap. You tried not to pay attention to them by focusing on the conversation your friend was having with the people she had introduced you to. It somewhat worked... until you heard cheers and whistles which caught everyone's attention.

Hyejoo's face was buried in San's neck, no doubt giving him a hickey. He wasn't even pushing her away. You felt your eyes tear up, but you blinked it away. You couldn't look away until she pulled away. And then she kissed him, causing you to gasp.

"Why are you so surprised?" your drunk friend asked you. "She fucks around as much as Choi San does. I even heard they're fuck buddies."

San pulled away from Hyejoo, but he only smirked at her, making no effort to push her off his lap. Yeosang—who was sitting beside San—noticed you watching, and he immediately elbowed San. "You fucked up big time, bro," Yeosang murmured in his ear.

"What do you mean?" San asked.

"Y/N's over there. She saw everything."

San glanced around until his eyes found your disappointed and sad ones. He wasn't even expecting you to attend the party. He scanned you from head to toe, eyes darkening due to the way you looked in that outfit.

"You dumb fuck," Yeosang muttered, low enough for only San to hear. "Are you seriously eye-fucking her right now? Put your damn reputation aside and go talk to her before you fuck shit up more, idiot!"

San excused himself, pushing your ex-bestfriend off his lap, making his way over to you. But of course, he couldn't be seen with you, so he just gestured with his head for you to follow him. Even though you were so upset, you followed him a few seconds later. He stopped at the garden where there was no one; you could still hear the blasting music from here.

San was dressed in all black and he looked absolutely irresistible. You would've asked him to fuck you right here against the wall, but you were damn pissed at the moment.

"Damn, babe," he said, lips pulling into a smirk. "My girl's looking so hot." He reached out to pull you into his arms, but you took a step back. San frowned. "Babe..."

"You knew what Hyejoo did to me," you said with a bitter chuckle. "And you let her sit on your lap." You pointed at the hickey on his neck. "You let her do that to you despite the fact that you have a girlfriend, who is in fact, standing right in front of you!" You would never lash out like this if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system. Hyejoo bullied you a lot in high school to the point where you had to change schools. San knew every little detail of what Hyejoo did, and you remembered how angry he was when you told him about it.

"Babe, calm down, please," San said softly.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?! That fucking bitch was sitting on your fucking lap the entire time and she gave you a damn hickey! You didn't even stop her!"

"It was just a dare and—"

You scoffed. "And what about the kiss?"

"She kissed me. I didn't kiss back, I swear!"

"And you made no effort to push her off your damn lap even after that, right?"

San sighed; he really didn't want to fight with you right now. "I think you're overreacting, Y/N. Like I said, it was only a dare."

"Yeah, how about I go sit on another man's lap and suck his neck, hmm? I fucking bet you would love that," you chuckled bitterly. San clenched his jaw at your words; if that were to ever happen, he wouldn't hesitate to punch that guy.

"That's not going to happen," he placed his hands on your bare waist, pulling you against his body. "Let's not fight, okay?" he murmured, kissing your head.

You moved away from him, eyeing the hickey on his neck with disgust. "Fuck off, San," you mumbled. "I need a damn drink." Before San could could say anything, you made your way to the table of drinks beside the pool. You quickly downed three shots, eyes closing at the way the liquid burned your throat.

"Woah, woah, slow down there. You'll choke," you heard someone say from behind you.

"Who gives a fuck?" you muttered.

"Well, I certainly do, darling," Kangmin said, moving to stand in front of you. "You look really nice, even though you look like you could murder someone right now."

You glanced at San who returned back to where he was sitting before. Hyejoo started clinging to him, and he made no effort to do anything about it again. You rolled your eyes, not even surprised that your words went into San's ears and left just as fast. "Believe me, I want to," you said, feeling the alcohol starting to hit you harder.

"I don't know who pissed you off, but loosen up, yeah?" Kangmin said, pouring himself a drink. You noticed the tattoos all over his arms, one of them catching your eye. You grabbed his arm, trying to get a better look. "It's a... squirting dick?" you tried to control yourself from laughing.

"My friend's a tattoo artist and he tattooed it on me without telling me," he said with a chuckle.

"I want one too," you whined. "I want one now."

"What? A squirting dick?"

You lightly punched his bicep, swaying a little due to the effect of the alcohol in your system. "No, a good tattoo!"

"You're drunk right now, darling," he chuckled. "It's never a good idea to get a tattoo when you're drunk, trust me."

You pouted. "But I want a tattoo."

He placed his cup on the table and moved his hands to cup your cheeks. "I promise I'll take you to get a tattoo this week, okay? Now, let's go dance, hmm?" You nodded, letting him drag you inside to the dance floor.

San saw everything and his hands clenched into fists. He was so tempted to punch Kangmin and yell at him to stay away from you, but he couldn't risk his reputation like that; he didn't want anyone to know about your relationship no matter what. San went to where you were standing before, taking a tequila shot while he wondered what to do.

"Ji Kangmin and Y/N? Damn!" San overheard someone say.

"I didn't expect him to make a move on her," the other person said. "She's a goody two shoes and he's far from that."

"Kangmin likes women like that actually," the first person said. "And Y/N is very pretty. I'm not very surprised that he went for her."

"Hmm. They do look great together. He seems to like her a lot, no? I saw him walk her to her dorm last week." San's jaw clenched and he quickly made his way inside, searching for you. The dance floor was so crowded, he couldn't even get a glimpse of you anywhere. He tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. He tried calling Doyeon, but she didn't pick up as well.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, moving through tons of drunk, sweaty people, trying to find you.

After nearly fifteen minutes, he found you sitting alone on of the sofas, head resting on the armrest. "Y/N!"

"Kangmin...?" you lifted your head. "Oh, it's you."

"We're leaving," San said, grabbing your hand.

"No, f-fuck you," you hiccupped. "Go fuck off to Hyejoo." San ignored your words, taking his phone out to book a cab to his apartment. He helped you stand up and pulled you along with him. You wanted to protest, but your body was aching and you really just wanted to sleep.

You fell asleep on San's shoulder in the cab. He carried you bridal style and unlocked his door with the passcode, moving to his bedroom. He gently placed you on the bed and removed your boots. You opened your eyes due to the movement, feeling quite sick. "San..." you murmured. "I think I'm gonna throw up." San quickly lifted you up and took you to the bathroom, holding your hair back while you threw up in his toilet. He gently rubbed your back until you were done.

You brushed your teeth with the toothbrush you kept at San's place, and you took a quick hot shower, sobering a little. San gave you one of his t-shirts to wear and he dried your hair for you.

As soon as your head landed on the pillow, you fell asleep.

-

When you woke up, your head was pounding terribly. You slowly opened your eyes, immediately recognizing that you were in San's apartment; you couldn't remember much of what happened last night. You moved to his bathroom to take a painkiller and finish your morning routine. After you took a shower, you wore one of his black hoodies with one of your shorts that you usually kept at his place.

You felt a pair of muscly arms wrap around you. "You look so good in my clothes," San murmured, placing a kiss on your head. You turned around in his arms, titling your head back to look at him. You were about to wrap your arms around his neck, but your eyes landed on the hickey on his neck, reminding you of the events that happened last night, making you immediately pull yourself away from his embrace.

San frowned. "Babe—"

"San," you start. "Is your reputation that important that you can't even push another girl away when she's throwing herself at you? Especially when you know just how terrible that girl is?" you asked.

San took your hands in his. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have let—"

"But you still did," you argued. "Why don't you want to tell people about us, San? Is it because I'm not like you or your friends? Do you think I'm not attractive enough to be next to you?" He didn't say anything. "I feel like you're just using me," you continued, remembering the amount of times you've heard people say San only screws around. "Do you even love me?" The last question made San freeze. You had fallen in love with San months ago, but he didn't know and probably wouldn't have even noticed.

You waited for him to say something, but he only kept quiet, eyes fixated to the floor. "San, I think we should just," you gulped, eyes tearing up again. "We should b-break up. I really can't tolerate this anymore..." Your words felt like knifes were constantly slicing his heart. "Don't you have anything to say?" you asked, hoping he would fight for you or convince you that continuing this relationship is worth it. You wished he would change.

"How can I when you've already made up your mind?" San murmured, avoiding your eyes. "If you think breaking up is what's best then okay..." he wanted to say much more. He wanted to beg you to not leave him. He wanted to tell you just how much he loved you. But he couldn't. Even if he tried, he just couldn't.

"I'll collect my stuff from here tomorrow," you mumbled, putting your boots on. San could only nod as he watched you.

Before you could leave, San stopped you. "I... I just wanted to ask you... if you ever," he took a deep breath. "If you ever loved me."

You smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, but it was loud enough for him to hear you. "Take care, San," you mumbled before walking out the door, shattering his heart.

-

"You fucked up even more," Yeosang said, watching San smoke a cigarette.

"That's very helpful. Makes me feel great," San stated sarcastically, blowing the smoke to the air.

"No offense, Sannie, but I agree with Yeosang," Hongjoong said. "You should've told her how you felt instead of keeping quiet."

"I know," San sighed. "But she already made up her mind."

"Dude, you're really dense," Wooyoung stated. "She asked you if you had something to say. That translates to 'fight for me.' I don't think you've noticed, but Y/N is definitely in love with you."

San's head shot up. "She wouldn't have broken up with me if she really loved me, Woo."

Seonghwa groaned in frustration. "If I was in Y/N's place, I would dump your stupid ass too."

"Agreed," Yeosang said. "I told you before, San, your reputation is going to fuck up everything. You need to let go of your past as well before it's too late."

"Ji Kangmin's got his eyes on her," Mingi stated. "I heard his friends talking about it."

"Yeah, I heard that too. Y/N is close to him," Jongho added.

San rolled his eyes, taking a drag from the cigarette. "He has nothing else to do other than stealing the girls I like."

"Exactly, and you're letting him do it again," Yunho said, taking the cigarette away from San and crushing it with his shoes. "You have to make a decision Sannie. Either you sort things out with Y/N, or you lose the woman you love to that very bastard again."

---

"So you had the hots for Y/N, huh?" Kangmin asked San while he waited in line to order his drink.

"That's none of your business," San said in a cold tone to his ex-bestfriend.

"I saw you talking to her privately that day," he said, referring to the party you attended almost two weeks ago. San ignored his words. "I don't know what was going on between the two of you," Kangmin continued. "But whatever it was, I'm glad it didn't last long. I want to make her mine."

San scoffed. "You just want to get into her pants."

Kangmin snorted. "Obviously. But after spending two weeks with her, without you around, I'm quite interested. Y/N is gorgeous and has a great personality. She's a rare gem, you know? I bet she'd be just as wonderful in bed and tastes as sweet as she loo—"

San took a step towards Kangmin, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll break your damn face!" San warned.

"Ohhh, I'm so scared," he teased, pushing San away. "Fuck off, Choi San. Someone like Y/N doesn't deserve a bastard like you. You weren't and will never be good enough for her." San chose to ignore him, not wanting to cause a big scene at the café. Kangmin's words stabbed him in the heart. San always thought he wasn't good enough for you, but he never expected to hear anyone say it out loud.

Kangmin's phone started ringing and he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face. "Hey, gorgeous," he answered, loud and clear. "I'm at the café near your building, getting you your favorite drink and some cupcakes. I'll pick you up from class."

"That won't be necessary," you replied, pushing the door of the café to enter. You instantly spotted Kangmin and made your way towards him, unaware of San who was standing right behind him. "Hi!" you said to Kangmin who hung up once he saw you.

"Hey, beautiful! How was class?" he asked, secretly glancing at San; you still hadn't noticed San as your back was facing him.

"Ugh, tiring. I hate extra classes. I couldn't understand any—" your phone started ringing, interrupting your sentence. You answered the call as it was from your bestfriend.

"Where are you?" Doyeon asked.

"At the café near our dorm," you replied.

"Come over fast, we have to get ready for Hyewon's party. She wants us to come early cause she needs help."

"I'll be there in a bit."

-

"I didn't expect any of them to be here," you said to Doyeon while drinking some whiskey and coke from a red cup, watching your ex-boyfriend converse with his infamous group of friends; they usually went clubbing on Saturday nights. "Aren't you gonna go over to Yunho?"

"I don't wanna ditch you," she answered. You gently pushed her in Yunho's direction.

"Go, I'll be fine."

Before she could reply, Kangmin wrapped his arms around you, startling you a little. Doyeon gave you a wink before making her way towards her boyfriend, leaving you with Kangmin.

"Can we talk?" he whispered in your ear, making sure to move closer to your body once he noticed San watching. You nodded, letting him pull you upstairs. You had gotten quite close to Kangmin these last two weeks; you were really glad to have a friend like him. He distracted you from the pain you felt from not being with San anymore.

Kangmin gently pushed against the wall, trapping you between his arms. You gasped. "What are you doing?"

"I like you, Y/N," he confessed with a smile. "I wanna date you." Before you could say anything, he kissed you. You were a little too shocked, so you let him kiss you for a few seconds. When you regained your senses, you pushed him away. He stared at you, confused by your actions.

"Kangmin, I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way..."

Kangmin rolled his eyes. "It's cause of Choi San, isn't it?"

"No," you lied. Of course it's cause of San. You were still in love with him. You didn't want to date anyone until you got over him. "I only see us as friends, Kangmin," you stated honestly. "You're a really good friend and I don't want to lose you."

Kangmin sighed. "Okay, let's just forget about this. Let's have a drink, hmm?" You nodded, following him downstairs to the kitchen.

You were talking to one of your friends while Kangmin got a drink for you.

"Thanks," you said, taking the cup from him. You took a sip of your drink. It tasted a little salty, but you didn't mind. You felt yourself relaxing a little while you nodded your head to the music. By the time you finished your drink, you felt pretty lightheaded. You clinged to Kangmin's arm. "Hey, could you take me to the couch?" you requested, words slurred. "I don't feel very good..."

"Of course," Kangmin lifted you into his arms, bridal style. He carried you upstairs into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind him with his foot. He placed you on the bed. "You don't know how long I've waited for this," he said, licking his lips while he took your crop-top off. You didn't know what was happening and your vision was really blurry. Kangmin pushed you onto your back before hovering above you. The sudden movement made your head spin even more, causing you to pass out. "Oh, too bad she couldn't stay conscious for this..." he murmured to himself. He ran his hands up from your jean-clad legs to the soft skin of your abdomen before reaching behind your body to unclasp your bra. Before he could pull the piece of clothing away from your body, the door swung open.

"You fucking bastard!" San yelled, pushing Kangmin off of you. Jongho and Hongjoong were right behind San.

"What the fuck, dude?!" Kangmin yelled. "Get out! Can't you see we're busy?!" His words pissed Jongho off. He immediately grabbed Kangmin by the collar and punched him twice in the nose. Kangmin fell to the floor, holding his broken, bloody nose in pain. Jongho wanted to punch him one more time, but Hongjoong held him back. "Don't. You'll end up killing him."

San started crying when he saw your passed out form; he couldn't even think about what would've happened if his friends didn't overhear Kangmin's friends talking about him spiking your drink. San clasped your bra back and put your crop-top on you before he lifted you into his arms. "I'm taking her to my apartment," he said to his friends.

"I'll drive you," Hongjoong offered.

-

When you woke up, you immediately recognized your surroundings. You had absolutely no idea of how you ended up in your ex-boyfriend's bedroom.

Your head was pounding and you wondered what time it was as it was really sunny outside. Before you could get off San's bed, he entered the room.

"You're awake," he said softly, relief clear in his eyes. "Take a shower and come eat. You must be really hungry."

"What happened? What's the time right now?" you questioned, your heart racing at the mere sight of him in a lilac hoodie and black sweatpants.

"I'll tell you after you eat," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's three in the afternoon. Doyeon got some clothes for you. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom."

"Thanks," you mumbled, getting up to go to the bathroom.

After you took a shower, you made your way to San's kitchen. You took a seat at the dining table, looking at all the different dishes on the table.

"You made all this?"

San shook his head. "I wasn't able to cook today. Wooyoung and Seonghwa made it. They left a few minutes ago." You noticed how tensed and sad he was; you wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but you knew he wouldn't answer your question until you ate.

You both ate in a comfortable silence. You tried to recall the events from last night, but you weren't able to. You frowned, wondering if you really drank that much.

"Are you all right, San?" you asked, settling on his couch after you both finished eating.

He took a deep breath and you noticed the slight dark circles beneath his eyes. "Can I hug y-you?" he asked, voice cracking while his eyes teared up.

You immediately scooted closer to him on the couch, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck while he held you tightly. His body shook convulsively while he cried, his tears wetting your neck. You ran a hand through his soft hair, knowing it would help calm him down a little.

San pulled away from you, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his lilac hoodie. "I'm sorry..."

You grabbed his hand, intertwining it with yours. "What happened, Sannie?"

Hearing you call him by his nickname brought another set of fresh tears to his eyes. Your other hand reached up to wipe his tears away.

"I love you, Y/N," he confessed, more tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that before. I'm so sorry for being a jerk to you and prioritizing my reputation. I fucked up and I regret it so much." You took a deep breath, trying to control your rapid heartbeat while you listened to every word he said. "I felt like dying after what happened last night. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," he sobbed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What happened last night?"

"O-Oh you don't remember...?" You shook your head. San cleared his throat, trying his best to not to break down again. "Wooyoung and Hongjoong overhead Ji Kangmin's friends say that he spiked your drink after you rejected him." you froze in shock. "They immediately told us about it, and me, Hongjoong, and Jongho rushed over to you. You weren't conscious when we found you. Your top was off and he was about to take your bra off as well, but I pushed him away. Then Jongho punched him. I brought you here after that."

You stared at San in disbelief. "Kangmin s-spiked my drink...?"

San nodded. "He had it all planned. I'm sorry, Y/N... none of this would've happened if he didn't see us together." You were too shocked to say anything; you couldn't believe Kangmin would go this low just cause you rejected him. "Ji Kangmin was my bestfriend in high school. After I got a girlfriend, he acted like a bitch to me cause he wanted her. I really loved her, and she cheated on me with him. He spread a lot of false shit about me after I ended our friendship. When I tried to move on with another girl, he took her away from me too. I didn't want other people to know about us only because he would find out. I didn't want him anywhere near you because I knew he would try to take you away from me. I didn't push Hyejoo away that day because he was watching me and would get suspicious of my actions if I pushed her away. I tried my best to do everything that would keep him away from you, but I still failed..."

You burst into tears, wrapping your arms around San; you had no idea he went through all this. "I'm sorry, San. I should've listened to you when you told me he wasn't a good person," you managed to say through sobs.

"No, Y/N, I'm the one who should say sorry for not telling you all of this before." He held you, gently rocking you back and forth while he cried with you. "Thank you for rejecting him..."

You pulled away, cupping his cheek. "How could I ever date someone else when I'm love with you, San?"

His heart raced in his chest due to your words. "That's why you rejected him?"

You nodded. "And I'm glad I did."

San smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. "Can I..." he hesitated "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, please."

San immediately captured your lips with his own, kissing you oh so gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He smiled, causing you to smile as well while you kissed him; you both missed this so much. The kiss was slow and soft, the two of you just wanting to savor this moment. Your hands played with his hair while his hands lazily ran down the expanse of your back. San pulled away, holding you tight against his chest.

"I know I hurt you a lot and I don't even deserve to speak to you right now... but I want to start over, Y/N," San said honestly. "I want to treat you the way you deserve... show you off to the world... I want to make things right between us. These two weeks were pure torture without you, and I realized that I can't... I can't live without you, Y/N. I really need you, baby."

You rested your head on his chest and you could hear his fast heartbeat. "I need some time, Sannie." you noticed him tense up a little and you knew exactly what he was thinking. "And no, this isn't me indirectly rejecting you or anything. I want to be with you, San. I always have and that isn't gonna change. I just need a little time, considering everything that happened." San nodded in understanding. "I promise that I will come back to you."

"I love you and I'll wait for you," San said, placing a kiss on your head.

"Thank you... I love you too, Sannie." He giggled, loving the way you say those three heart-fluttering words. He cupped your cheek to pull you into another sweet kiss, making your heart race again.

The two of you knew that no matter what, you both would always find your way back to each other.

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

“Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”

[pumpkinpot]

MHA at a CON or FEST

Hi, so over the last couple day I have been going to the local Fan-con in my state and I was curious while there what some of the MHA characters would be like as panel or meet and greet guests and you as a vendor. 

Hawks- He is a fan favorite. For him I’d imagine the tickets to meet him would sell out almost immediately and if someone was lucky to catch one late, it would likely be from a peddler outside the stadium. He is so good with his fans very professional in his hero costume, taking pictures and signing things. (he kind of has to be.) As sort of a subliminal messaging thing, he’d keep some of your merch just strewn on his table, like it was just left there and would send feathers to you periodically throughout the day to let you know he’s thinking about you, or has some major tea about a crazed fan. You’ll know which depending on the frantic-ness of the delivery. 

Mirkou- She is so unashamed about her nerdiness. You cannot convince me you two don’t ren and, "women with swords" is her aesthetic. So don’t expect her in her hero costume. Not the one she actually works in at least. Her meet and greet costume is a modified knight-core version with chainmail and leather. She had a special bit of her armor etched with a little symbol of your two’s design. like a crest of your love... lol... nerds.... Preferably she can see your table from where she is, so she can point you out as her (royal title). “for I am their knight, and they are my Queen/King” is what she says all Stokely. Don’t expect to much professionalism from her, she’s too excited.  

Aizawa- How TF someone got him to do a meet and greet is beyond me, but he’s not happy about it. Its too loud, too crowded and he’s often asking himself why this big of an event is important to hero work and if its safe to have so many heroes in one place. (its a pretty big target.) But he’s amiable enough. He does it mostly because some of his students are there and so are you. At first he’s rather fitful, but when a little kid hands him a picture of a kitten drawn by them he softens. Its a complete coincidence he became the children's favorite. Parents wondering why their child chose a homely gremlin over Hawks. When he has any time free he’s watching you wow people with your own products just in awe of your passion, but behind that is a small excitement building for the epic sleep that yall are having tonight after such an involved day. 

Bakugou- You cannot convince me he isn’t into this. For a couple reasons. One he gets to show off a little bit. I feel like the Bakugou that would get big enough to have a meet and greet is not the “I’m better than everyone,” guy we’re used to, but he does like the idea of seeing what kinds of people flock to him. It’s def not what he expected. Book nerds, and introverts. If you’d have told him that was his fan base, he’d have laughed in your face, but now that he’s seeing it with his own eyes the pieces start to click. its very “every Hufflepuff needs a Slytherin” vibe. (though I don’t think Bakugou is a Slytherin, different post different time.) He actually begins to enjoy the time. Its not as loud as the other panels despite the doubled mass at his stand. When he has any time away from the greet table he’s with you, checking out the food truck district. of course their is a radius so he’s not swarmed, but he does tip the staff really really well.

Midoryia- Despite going to so many cons for Allmight stuff when faced with his own booth, and seeing his own fan art, Midoryia becomes very, very overwhelmed. This results in a lot of check ins with you and sloppy smiled pictures. It’s not that he tries to be awkward, but people constantly telling him how much they love him makes him wonder if he ever became so overbearing to his mentor. After a while you make some arrangements to move your booth into veiw of his and after that, his demeanor completely changes. Not having to stare at the art booth with only his face in various mediums staring back at him, but you with your passion sprawled out across a table and your friendly smile. It gives him courage to relax a little. Overall he’ll only do those kinds of events if you are there. If you’re not public with your relationship, how long will it take the public to realize you’re always so close?

Ochako- Baby girl is eating it up! Not because of the crowd per say, but because of the smiles. She’s had to use her quirk to save lives so many times, I could see her floating peoples hair and floating up to make funny faces behind people in photos. Her and some of the other hero's decided to get in on a corner of the meet and greets together so they can interact with fans together. (photobombing each others pics and such.) When she has the time she’ll sneak off to you with a churro in each hand with a social battery check in and a mandatory water check. If you’re feeling drained she’ll ask one of her assistants to watch your booth while she floats you both somewhere to watch the crowd from above.  

Mina- She is too hype for the occasion. Her and Ochako def got a space near each other. She goes above and beyond for her fans, decorating her whole booth in flower vines and twinkle lights. she did it for the gram for sure. She is great with her people and loves to ask them actual questions when they meet her. “how are you really babydoll?”, “tell me about your day.” and is the queen of complements. when she’s on break she’s with you hyping up your booth to anyone within hearing distance. “hey! have you all seen how amazing my love is?!” she def is out here to do the most in the best way.

Kirishima- Baby boy is nervous. He’ll never admit it if not forced, but he’s never been to an event like this, as a guest or greeter and the sheer magnitude of it all is.. daunting. It isn’t until he sits down and actually people watches the line of fans ready to meet him does he calm down. specifically a little boy with foam hands of his signature fist to fist in hardened mode. (Like the Thanos gauntlet you can buy at walmart) The kid was so excited to meet his favorite “shark” and it was that day that Kiri saw how far that comparison (him to a shark) actually went. He overall realizes his fan base is mostly made up of people like him. People who didn’t feel like they had the right bits in their bones to fit into society. He loved being that oddball for them. At lunch he sneaks away with you to eat junky foods hidden in an empty stage room or somewhere secluded. He’s got so many stories about so many cool people and keeps a copy of the pictures of his favorite fans for himself. to remind him why he does what he does. 

[snackleggg]

Loud music and hard of hearing conspiracy

~~~

An Unidentified Flying Ship one shot

~~~

The music was blaring loudly but from the hallway at least it was a little muffled. Not entirely, Wes could still pick out the words to whatever awful pop song was playing if he focused but it was muted enough that he could at least ignore it.

How did I end up here?

A week ago everything had been fine, normal. Then everything went downhill.

It started when everyone was getting hyped about prom because it was only a week away. What was once an occasional subject that was mentioned once or twice in conversation quickly dominated the forefront of everyone's minds.

Of course with it came everyone talking about dates and Wes had rolled his eyes at the relationship drama that would proceed the school dance.

"What about you Wes?" His twin brother Kyle had asked.

Wes at the time was glaring at Fenton from across the cafeteria, totally zoned out from the world around him and whatever conversation was going on at the table but his brother's question had reeled him back in.

He blinked, turning his attention to Kyle who sat beside him "What about what?"

"Are you going with someone to prom?" One of the others at the table asked. Oh so the conversation had drifted there.

Before Wes could answer no, he was going to be too busy trying to gather evidence to expose Fenton someone else at the table went "I'm pretty sure he wants to ask Fenton to prom"

Wes' brain blue screened for a moment but when he saw everyone at the table nodding he was immediately snapped out of his stupor "wha- NO! Of course not! Why would you even think!?" Wes fumbled but then Kyle put his hand on Wes' shoulder.

"Bro, no offence but we all know you have a crush on Fenton and that you're just using your conspiracy theories as an excuse" Kyle said while looking at Wes sympathetically.

"I don't- I'm not using anything as an excuse, Fenton is Phantom! How can you guys not see it!?" Wes said, he was pointedly ignoring the heat he felt rush to his cheeks.

Another person at their table just shook their head in pity "Oh you poor thing, still in denial about your feelings. You know well still accept you no matter your sexuality right Wes?" They said and Wes heard his brother mumble something about how sad it was Wes thought ghosts were real.

At this point Wes was left completely speechless at the way all his friends seemed to agree with the outrageous notion that he had a crush on Danny Fenton. A crush.

Wes just stood up and walked away with his tray of half eaten slop. He could hear his friends sighing over how hopeless and oblivious he was.

It didn't stop there though.

Later that day at home Kyle, Wes and their older brother Easton were in the living room together quietly doing their own things. Kyle doing some homework, Easton texting someone and Wes looking over all the pictures he had gotten of Phantom after the fight earlier that day, unfortunately all were too blurry to make out anything Wes could actually use as evidence.

Then Kyle broke the comfortable silence.

"Hey Easton, you think you can give Wes some advice for asking his crush to prom?" Kyle asked, not even looking up from the algebra equation he was doing.

If Wes had been drinking anything he would've done a spit take, instead he settled for just staring at his brother in growing horror.

"Hmm? Crush? Oh you mean Jazz's younger brother?" Easton asked as he looked up from his phone. Wes already knew that Easton was good friends with Jazz Fenton but he became even more horrified by the fact that he had immediately connect the 'crush' Kyle had mentioned to Danny Fenton.

Kyle just nodded and Wes was still too shocked to say anything as he looked between his brothers.

"Well, you can never go wrong with chocolates and just straight up asking" Easton said with a shrug before looking back down at his phone.

Finally Wes regained he ability to speak "NO! I don't have a crush on Fenton!" Wes exclaimed.

"Wes you shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for help. I'm your brother, you can't really hide the fact that you have a huge crush on Fenton from me" Easton said simply and some part of Wes was thankful that neither of his brothers are currently looking at him because he knew his face was probably almost as red as his hair.

The larger part of Wes though was shocked and horrified by what his brother had just said.

Not for the first time that day Wes just got up and left without another word.

The rest of the week didn't fair any better.

Anytime Wes inforned his brothers or friends that he was going to tail Fenton to finally expose that he was Phantom they just rolled their eyes before going "Are you finally going to ask him to prom?" And everytime without fail Wes would turn bright red before stomping off in whatever direction Fenton had ran off to, muttering under his breath about how he did NOT have a crush on Fenton.

Finally, Friday he snapped.

"WHY!? Why does everyone think I have a crush on Fenton!? I thought it was obvious that I hate him!" Wes yelled after Kyle had off handedly asked if he had asked Fenton to prom yet.

"Duh, it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him" Kyle stated like it was obvious.

"I'm NOT infatuated!" Wes said.

"Then what do you have to say about all those pictures you take of him? Or following him and his friends around? The fact that you have an entire notebook filled with little facts about him that no one else would care to notice?" Kyle pointed out.

"That's all evidence! It's me trying to expose that he is really Phantom!" Wes argued.

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that but you can't live in denial forever bro. I mean why would you need to keep a catalogue of his interests or have so many photos of him just being normal and not at all 'ghostly' " Kyle said while making air quotes "that stuff can't be used as evidence so why still keep it?"

"Because! Be... because..." Wes stopped. Why did he keep all of those things? They weren't particularly helpful in exposing Fenton so why?

"It's cause you like-like him. Prom is tomorrow so I'm sorry to say your denial made you miss your chance to ask him out" Kyle said while patting Wes on the back.

Wes once again stood from the couch and walk away, up to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He spent the whole rest of the day just laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He went to prom the next day because some of his friends insisted he couldn't miss it.

For most of the night he had felt numb, especially as he watched people dance and talk and laugh together while he practically glued himself to the wall.

Then he spotted Fenton and Wes was hit again with his brothers words 'it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him'.

Wes hated to admit it but Fenton actually looked good. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark green bow tie and black slacks. It was simple but he pulled it off quite well and Wes couldn't help but notice how the flashing lights of the gym reflected off of Danny's ice blue eyes. How the constantly changing angle of the light highlighted his face a hundred different ways and none of them looked unflattering, at least not to Wes.

The music was loud, he could barely hear people standing right next to him so of course Wes couldn't hear what Danny and Sam were talking about on the other side of gym but Danny seemed to laugh at something she said and Wes couldn't tear his eyes away. He could almost imagine the laugh in his head, light and easy becoming a soft chuckle towards the end.

Wes looked down at the plastic cup full of punch he held in his hand. He could practically smell that someone had spiked it.

He soon found himself stumbling out of the gym because everything was so bright and loud and he needed more space between himself and Danny, definitely more than just a gymnasium's length at least until he figured out why the heck he felt his face flush when he thought about Danny's laugh.

So that's how Wes ended up sitting on the cool tile floors of the school's empty hallway. The lights were off so it was dark but the smallest bit of light poured in through the high up windows front the street lamps outside so it wasnt pitch black, even if it was hard to make out any details of his surroundings.

He didn't know how long he sat there staring at the swirling cup of liquid in his hands.

Eventually he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and he didn't need to lift his head to know it was Danny.

"Hey Wes" Danny's familiar voice echoed a little in the empty hallway, it wasn't the same kind of echo that his voice gained when he was Phantom Wes absentmindedly noted. He heard Danny sit down next to him on the cool tile floor.

"What brings you out here? Would've thought you'd be in the gym with your friends" Danny said.

Wes jostled the cup a little with his hand before gesturing to it "I think someone spiked the punch" Wes said instead of giving a straight answer to Danny's question.

"Oh? Good thing I was never a fan of punch. You good?" Wes could've sworn he heard actual concern leak into Danny's voice.

"Yeah, I only took a few sips" Wes shrugged and he leaned backwards against the metal lockers that lined the walls.

"What about you? Why're you out here?" Wes could now see Danny in his peripheral vision quite well. His legs were spread out straight infront of him unlike how Wes had his knees tucked against his chest. He also seemed to be leaning against the lockers behind them, looking relaxed against the cool metal.

"Technus decided to try and take over the DJ booth. I managed to stop him pretty quickly but I needed a breather so I came out here" Danny said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Hmm" Was Wes' only reply. The source of all his troubles, both old and new was sitting right next to him and they were holding a proper conversation like real people. No threats of exposing identities, no witty banter or mocking remarks.

To someone who didn't know any better it would almost seem like they were on civil terms with eachother.

What kind of terms are we on?

They weren't friends, not by a long shot. But enemies seemed too strong a word now that Wes thought about it. It wasn't like they were physically hurting eachother like Danny's other enemies. It was less literal battling and more metaphorical and figurative battling.

But after tonight would I even be able to do that anymore?

Wes couldn't just ignore the revelation forced upon him. He wasn't one for ignoring the obvious and when Kyle presented the evidence he had to admit his feelings were a tad obvious.

A comfortable silence was now between the two and Wes turned his head to look at Danny directly. His breath caught in his throat.

Danny was completely relaxed leaning against the lockers behind him. His hair was slightly disheveled, more so than usual. His eyes were closed and he had a faint smile on his face. The dim light shining in made his pale skin look like it was glowing, giving him an ethereal look. Wes was pretty sure that he could only glow in ghost form but that didn't stop the way the light reflected to make it seem otherwise. Wes also became hyper aware of the fact that they were sitting very close to eachother, if he leaned to the side a bit they would be brushing shoulders.

'Yeah, super obvious' Wes thought as he felt a blush find it's way onto his cheeks.

Wes managed to pry his eyes away and looked back down at his cup of spiked punch.

"Screw it" he mumbled before downing the whole thing.

"Hmm? What was that?" Danny asked as he peeked an eye open.

"Screw it" Wes said louder as he grabbed Danny by his collar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Danny froze in place as Wes pulled back. The blush stood out against Danny's pale skin and Wes knew he was probably as red as tomato as he spoke "Wanna go dance? With me?" Wes asked cautiously.

Danny blinked before a doppy smile found it's way onto his face "Yeah, sure" he said.

Wes pushed himself up and held out a hand which Danny took without a moment's hesitation.

[juniorgman187]

Spoiled Rotten (Reid Fic)

Summary: After Spencer went radio silent on Reader while he was in prison, their pride and stubbornness threatens to tear them apart forever. Reader’s forced to mourn the death of who they were and experience the inner turmoil of navigating who they are.

A/N: Y’all are gonna kill me for the ending, but it’s one hell of a way to go.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst Content Warning: Imprisonment, humiliation, abandonment, anger, frustration, angst, yelling, fighting Word Count: 5.3k Playlist: Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

Time jumps are indicated by “. . .” or “_ _ _”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

A rather unfortunate predicament we’ve found ourselves in tonight. I can’t say I’ve ever been quite this uncomfortable in my life, yet I’m careful not to speak too soon. Because I know the second Spencer opens his mouth to break the silence we’re currently sitting in, I’ll stand corrected. 

“You’re breathing really hard,” He tells me out of nowhere. 

See, I stand corrected. 

Now that I’ve become hyper aware of my own inhale and exhale, my respiration is just that much more restricted. I’m practically holding my breath at this moment - both from the anticipation of catching this unsub in the act and giving Spencer one less thing to scrutinize about me. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop breathing,” He tacks on as if it would put me any more at ease. Not that if he had explicitly said such a thing, I would’ve. 

Unlike other people, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to throw myself at his feet so he’d like me. But to use that as grounds for his disdain would be foolish. Our rancor went deeper than the basic lack of synergy between us. 

And in the spirit of getting to the bottom of that abyssal pit, I finally asked the question with words that always seemed to hang above but never would form. 

“Why was I the only one denied visitation while you were in prison?” 

It may surprise you to know that it wasn’t always like this between us; we were actually close once, although it is hard to imagine that version of us ever really existing. However, if I think about it hard enough, I can remember with perfect clarity who we used to be. 

. . .

“Jeez, you really don’t like these things do you?” I nudged him playfully before feeling instantly guilty once I witnessed the result of my shove that must’ve been a little too much for all 120 (at most) pounds of him. I’d neglected to remember the strength I held over the lanky Doctor as well as neglected to notice where the trajectory of my push would land him - in the direct line of a circus clown walking the opposite direction as us. This, of course, brought him face to face with the character. Unfortunately, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lens of Spencer’s glasses grazing the white face paint of the caricature. 

After a shudder of mortification and a very brave shriek, Spencer ran to my other side to be as far away from the clown as possible and apparently, as close to me as possible. From a distance, you’d think we were conjoined simply by the way he was glued to me - shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

While removing his glasses to clean them off with the hem of his blazer, he answered, “Carnivals? I mean, what’s not to like? What with the loud noises, the heart-attack-inducing food that’s more grease than actual food, or the sheer amount of bacteria harboring on each and every handle, hoop, ball, or button of these ridiculous game booths.” 

“Wow, you really don’t like carnivals.” I should’ve figured. 

“Nope. Never have and probably never will.” 

As someone who looked forward to the fair every summer of her childhood, any aversion to carnivals broke my heart. I had a fondness for them borne in adolescence that I couldn’t quite justify now in my adulthood. 

“But they’re fun!” was the best argument I could muster. The whine in my voice being provoked by the possibility that the higher the shrill of my pitch, the easier he’d be to sway. Turns out, Dr. Reid was not nearly as susceptible to my auditory persuasion as I might’ve thought he was. Just a stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. 

“I’m sorry. I know you brought me here because you love these things, but I just can’t get past the ...” He surveyed the fair, ostensibly against his will, in search of the perfect word to describe our surroundings. “Filth.”

I would’ve argued in the defense of the carnival, mentioning how it’s endearing that the only bathrooms for miles were porta potties, and that the screaming, crying, sticky children galore just added to the attraction, and that there was a hidden charm to the way the roller coasters creaked beyond their means with every ride. 

But to an extent, I agreed. It was rather filthy, and I wasn’t much of a germaphobe myself so to someone like him, this would be hell on earth. 

“Well, you get what you put into it. If you’re willing to overlook some minor imperfections, I really think you’d enjoy this place.” 

Spencer by now had his hands in his pockets and his walking pace had slowed to a complete halt. There was a moment of skepticism, followed by a partially open smile to make way for the laughter that escaped from the disbelief that he felt for letting me break his resolve so easily. 

“Alright then. What do you want to do first, Brat?” 

The nickname I’d earned could be seen as meanspirited, but truly, it was affectionately diminutive. Like all good nicknames are. And like the proclaimed Brat I was, I’d taken him to all my favorite parts of the fair. 

First came the bumper cars to ease him into the experience - as ironic as that sounds. He was reluctant to submerge his gangly body into a mini vehicle, much less one that’d been inhabited by God knows how many people before us, but he pushed his reservations aside when he realized he’d get to slam into my car (safely, of course). 

Secondly, we went on the Carousel, but this was only in preparation for the real ride that I wanted to take him on next - the Swinging Chairs. He’d gotten a little nauseous, from both the repetitive circling and the galvanized chains he had to hold that were definitely held by several others. 

He had no interest in going on the Gravitron - super lame, I know - so we opted for the Ferris Wheel instead. I didn’t mind making this compromise so much after recognizing all that he’d done for my benefit that night. And for his generosity and selflessness, I thought it only fitting to end the night going somewhere so tame he couldn’t possibly have any opposition to it.

The photo booth.

The booth in particular we’d gone to was smaller than an airplane bathroom, if you can imagine that. The bench seat was barely wide enough to fit Spencer, let alone seat the both of us. While he didn’t explicitly make the offer to let me sit on his lap, it was kind of a give in that I’d have some part of my body intertwined around him like stubborn ivy. 

. . .

I still laugh thinking about the tangled mess of limbs we were below what the camera couldn’t capture. It was arguably the furthest extent of contortionist work I wanted to do in my lifetime, and henceforth exceedingly uncomfortable, and yet, I’d never felt more at home than when I was in his arms. 

That night he would tear off the top three photos to keep for himself while I kept the bottom three photos. 

To this day, I have never seen the pictures that he kept, and I’m left to wonder if he had them at all.

Because I still have mine. And they were virtually the only thing keeping me sane throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment. 

Six Months Ago ...

My eyes were locked on the loose thread of my cardigan that I was rolling between my fingers anxiously. 

“Would you stop that?” Penelope swatted my hand away from my sweater. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.” She grumbled. 

“Sorry,” I apologized bleakly.

A few seconds later she groaned again, making me think I was still doing something bothersome, but it turned out to be just the opposite. “Ugh, I know that sounded mean, and I hate when I sound mean, but I can feel my forehead creasing from the stress, and watching you fidget is going to give me an ulcer.”

“I wish I could help it. I’m just really worried about him.”

“Well I am, too, but that’s not gonna do us any good right now. All we can do is hope for the best.”

Sometimes Penelope’s overly optimistic view on life was futile and unwelcome, and truthfully, this was one of those times. 

“Penny?” 

As she turned her head, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her dark green glasses. I could see my own mournful expression as I asked, “What if he’s found guilty?” 

She started to say something but stopped herself. “Right now, all we need to focus on is his bail. We can worry about a verdict later.” She put her hand on top of mine and shook it briefly to remind me that we were in this together. 

Moments later recess was over and the team came trudging back into the courtroom. 

The sound of the judge clearing her throat and our footsteps on the floor made this feel all too normal. 

How could Spencer’s life be hanging in the balance in such a place as non-intimate as this? 

It frustrated me how casual things felt today and how everyone was acting normally. Prentiss had yet to bat an eye, Rossi’s stoic expression never changed, and Penelope was telling me not to worry. Everyone was acting so aloof. 

My eyes darted to Spencer, who was looking back at us woefully. I couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer, so I kept my head down and stared at my feet after I took my seat. 

Even when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the vision of him in a suit, just like one he’d wear to work. But instead, he was wearing it for this - this vastly different situation. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same in one anymore. I’ll probably just remember this particular look on his face, in this god awful courtroom, during this horribly nauseating circumstance. 

If one thing was for certain, it was that this would all come back to me if I ever laid eyes on him in a suit, and that thought fucking terrified me. 

Because that one thought spiraled into the next: Everything was bound to change after this. Every little thing would change in every little way. 

Spencer’s lawyer, the judge, and the prosecutor were going back and forth for a while, but I tuned it all out because I knew if I had tuned in, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my arguments. Eventually, though, I heard something I could no longer ignore. 

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk.”

I stood up immediately, getting a head rush from the speed. I knew what was to follow, so I needed to be on my feet the second I heard it. Maybe so I could run and escape before I had to.

“Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in federal custody pending trial.” 

“Spencer!” I shouted, losing all the composure I’d been trying to maintain. I reached for him as if he was at any capacity to reach back and hold me. God, I needed him to hold me. Hold me like how he did at the carnival. 

Hold me.

Luke held me back as I fought to be near him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to break free of his tight grip. Spencer could only stand and stare, mirroring my own wistful glance. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out, but if I knew him at all, he probably said something about not wanting me to worry about him. 

“(Y/n), (y/n) it’s gonna be alright.” JJ reasoned, pulling me into a hug. 

“How long before this case goes to trial?” I heard Prentiss whisper to Spencer’s lawyer. 

“It’s a complicated case. I’d say three months maybe?” 

Immediately, I worked myself out of JJ’s arms and pushed my way through the team, running up to the barrier between us.

“Spence!” I cried out in anguish. 

To the sound of my voice, he glanced over his shoulder sadly. He wasn’t even shocked I’d been able to get so close to him - he seemed to expect it, and for that, he was sad. Because he knew if I was going to be as stubborn as to fight to get to him at this hearing, then I was going to be stubborn enough to reach him in prison, too. And should he find himself behind bars, he knew that I’d get to him one way or another. 

That is if he’d let me. 

“Be strong,” He weakly smiled. ‘For me’ his sad eyes begged in addition. He held my gaze for as long as he possibly could before disappearing into another room. 

As I watched him walk away, I could feel my heart shattering and crumbling into the pit of my stomach. Perhaps that was a premonition, a true gut feeling, telling me something I at the time couldn’t have known and wouldn’t have accepted. 

That was the last time I would see Spencer. 

People always say when something unbelievable happens, it doesn’t feel real, but this? Nothing felt more real and more intense than this. 

There was no other way for me to see this situation but as the first defeat in an endless line of them.

If Spencer was denied bail, what else could happen to him? Could he be found guilty too? Because prior to this, the denial of his bail seemed impossible. He posed no flight risk, but according to the judge, he did. So if what I once thought to be impossible happened, then it could and would happen again.

I knew Spencer was going to be found guilty.

What I didn’t know, though, was how I was going to live with myself from then on.

I didn’t go that day. 

I knew myself too well. So did the others, which is why they didn’t object to my decision not to come to Spencer’s trial. They knew I was better off staying home. Especially, if there was the chance that I might react hysterically again.

I didn’t stay home, though. That part the team never found out about. 

I went to visit Diana instead. A much wiser choice, in my opinion. 

“You know, we’ve been talking so much about Spencer today, but we haven’t talked about you yet,” said Diana. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I feigned a polite smile. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her chin downward and gave me that sly grin of hers. 

“No, no, of course not. I know better than to underestimate the Diana Reid.” I quipped, making her smile widen. “I just figured you’d wanna spend your time talking about someone much more interesting.” 

“Oh please, Spencer and I talk about you all the time.”

I perked up from the checker piece I was fiddling with. “You do?”

“Mhm,” She nodded over and over again. “I always knew there was something between you two because you could always talk about each other to me, but for some reason, you could never actually talk to each other.”

For the first time in months, I genuinely laughed and I couldn’t help it. “He makes me nervous! I always feel like he might correct something I say, or tell me that there’s food in my teeth.” 

“You know, now that you mention it, I do remember him saying something about seeing a really big piece of lettuce in your teeth one time.” 

“Diana!” I squealed, pushing the checkerboard at her, pretending to take offense. 

“I really don’t know what you’re so nervous about! I think it would be good if you just talked to him.” 

“It’s, um, it’s not that simple. Not right now, at least.” 

My energy quickly nose-dived and I tried to do my best to hide it from Diana, but it permeated through the rest of the visit. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself after it. 

The team and I all agreed not to let Diana know, especially not with the uncertainty of the case. There was no point riling her up if there was nothing to be worried about. And I could only imagine how I reacted - Diana would be reacting 10 times more hysterically. 

But as much as I hated to say it, I almost would’ve rather been in her position. 

I would give anything to un-know Spencer’s circumstance.

Present Time ...

In this car, there was nowhere for him to run or hide, not like before.

Anytime I so much as entered his gravity by being in the same room, he’d flee the space in the next breath. Granted, he couldn’t really avoid me entirely. We did have to be on the same flight for an extended period of time, but he made that work by letting me choose my spot first, then choosing a spot directly on the opposite side of the jet. 

What a gentleman, huh?

“Kudos to you, by the way. For managing to avoid me for this long. I imagine it’s been as not-easy as it has been incredibly-cowardly.” My words stung as they flowed from my lips as badly as I imagine they seared his already cracked skin. I couldn’t believe that now that I finally had the opportunity to talk to him, I was using it to be petty and passively aggressive. But then again, I could. 

Because after what he put me through, he deserved to feel the full severity of my indignation.

My only wish was that he knew exactly how I had felt when I found out. 

. . .

Icarus. 

He died tragically while using artificial wings, invented by his father, to escape from the Labyrinth. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the wax that held the wings together, and he fell into the sea.

‘Don’t fly too close to the sun.’ That’s the moral of the story. That’s what Reid was trying to tell me. But I didn’t listen. 

I flew too close. 

I had approached the window with more zeal than this predicament warranted. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here to see Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” I eagerly spelt his last name with ease as though it were my own last name. 

She’d flipped back and forth between pages, running her index finger up and down the sheet for far too long that it made me worry. Turns out, I had every right to be worried. 

“I don’t see you on the list, ma’am.” 

I was so mindnumbingly dumb that I couldn’t even see how dumb I was being. “Oh no no no, I’m with the FBI. I called earlier and left a message, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember you,” She smiled politely, giving me the tiniest fragment of hope. “But you’re not on his list.” Only for it to be shattered in an instant. 

I had yet to process or accept this information. “So what does that mean?”

“It means he doesn't wanna see you right now. And frankly, neither do I. Next!” 

“Wait, could you just please check with him? My name is (y/n) -” 

“Ma’am, you are holding up a whole line of people that wanna see their loved ones too, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call security to help see you out.” 

I knew by her tone of the word ‘help’ that meant a prison guard would most likely forcibly remove me from the premises, and the last thing I needed was to feel even more humiliated. 

I got plenty of that when I had to come back to the BAU. 

“You’re not on the list?” Luke seemed genuinely shocked. More so than I was. Above all, I just felt really stupid. 

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.” Stephen reasoned. He was so good at being level-headed. Which normally, I would’ve loved. But right now, it only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But later on, she asked him herself, and he said - and I quote, ‘I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever.’”

. . .

Those were the words that seared my skin, and he hadn’t even spoken them directly to me to do it. 

The words that did just enough to heal me back to health were, of course, Penelope’s.

“Since you haven’t seen him yet, the rest of us will just wait until you have. It’s only fair that you have your first turn before the rest of us go back for a second time.” 

Back then, it was easy to hold out hope, but the more and more time passed, the more he kept denying my visits. Therefore, the more my hope began to fade. 

It had been weeks since anyone else had seen him before I finally surrendered. Although I had newly-brewing sourness towards Reid, it didn’t feel fair to deny him everyone else’s presence until mine was permitted. 

Luke was the one who volunteered to visit first. And to my dismay, Spencer didn’t fight against it. 

The proof was finally there. Now I could say with absolute certainty: Spencer just didn’t want to see me. 

It was both ironic and utterly frustrating to think about how I’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing him. Even when the BAU got time off after big cases, we’d always spend that time together. The longest we’d spent apart was 12 days. And right when he came back to D.C, we were attached at the hip for the next week, trying to compensate for all that time we were apart. 

Now, look at us. I haven’t said one word to him in half a year. 

If tragedy and comedy could coexist, this would be it. 

“How is he?” I asked Luke as soon as he got back. 

“He’s holding on,” Luke affirmed with confidence. What he said next lacked any of that. “He told me to tell you not to worry about him.” 

Something in me knew it was a lie. “Did he actually say that?”

His lack of an answer was one itself. 

“Did he say anything at all about me?”

“I tried telling him how much you wanted to see him, but he just brushed it off. I’m sorry, (y/n).” 

This became my routine for the months to follow. Every time someone would come back from the prison, I’d ask them if they talked about me, but the answer was always no. After a while, it had gotten to the point where I purposefully started leaving myself out of the loop. At least in that case, it was by my own volition that I was being excluded, not by a predicament being forced on me. 

Not by Spencer. 

“We’re not doing this right now,” Spencer declaration brought me back to the present, where I found him removing himself from both the conversation and the vehicle. When I heard the latch click to open, my hand reflexively flew to my auto-lock to prevent him from leaving. Naturally, he still managed to escape using his door’s button.

If I couldn’t stop him, then I could follow him. 

“Then when will we do this? Huh, Spencer? When? Because anytime I try to talk to you, you run away.” The mere fact that I was speed-walking after him was proof. While he casually strolled down the sidewalk paying me no mind, I tried to be clever and walk down the street so we’d be somewhat side to side. I was tired of staring at his back every time he walked away. I needed to see his face.

For his every stride, I had to take at least three steps. He was gliding through the world so effortlessly as I was trekking my uphill battle. It was quite fitting, though. Further exemplification that, between us, I was fighting harder to preserve the people we used to be, the relationship we used to have. Meanwhile, he couldn’t care less. A stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. Just like he always was. 

As I began to speak, I had to also be conscious of the parked cars along the curb, being careful to weave in and out. 

“For months, you have blatantly ignored me. The entire time you were in prison, you denied my visits. And it’s not like it was a one time thing. I tried to visit you over 100 times while you were in jail! 100 times I got rejected. 100 times I got turned away. 100 times my heart shattered.” 

By now, I was speaking so loudly that I could see household lights within neighboring homes turning on. I hadn’t even realized how far we’d walked down the street and away from our car, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

“Then after you were released, it’s like I never even existed. I had to find out that you were out of there a week later than everyone else because they all assumed you came to me yourself to tell me the good news,” I laughed wryly at my own stupidity. “Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

It took me a second to register that he was actually engaging with me in this conversation now. But when I looked at his expression, I could see that something within him had snapped. A little piece of me was glad, though. Now I knew for sure that there was some effect I had on him. 

“Hard for you?”

“I know you came to visit me 100 times! Want to know how I know? Because I was there, too! I was there every time a guard came to ask if I wanted to see you. I was there every time I turned you away. And while you got to walk out of those doors every time I did, I was stuck in there, rotting in that cell, thinking about how badly I wanted to see you. How badly I wanted to touch ...” His voice faltered. “To touch you. But I had to protect you!” 

“You do realize in protecting me, you were hurting me in the process.” 

“Because you just don’t know when to leave well enough alone!” His hands tugged at the root of his unruly hair like evidence of the frustration that my stubbornness caused. “You’re such a pain in the ass because you can never cooperate! It’s gotta be your way or no one else’s! ‘Spencer, it has to be this way because I said so. Spencer, you have to let me see you because I said so. Spencer, you have to talk to me because I said so. Spencer, you have to ride this stupid roller coaster because I said so,’” His imitation of my nagging voice would’ve made me laugh before. Now, it was bringing me onto the verge of tears. “Since clearly no one’s told you this before - not everything is about you! You just want it to be because you’re a whiny, little brat! You’re so spoiled rotten that you can’t even see how far down it goes. If you did, you’d know that you’re rotten to the core and that nothing will ever satisfy you. Especially me.”

His words had done more than sear me. They pierced me. They ripped me. They destroyed me. When he called me Brat, I thought it was endearing. Now, looking back, I realize - no, that’s just how little he thought of me. 

As I came to the conclusion, I stopped dead in my tracks on the pavement. 

I was done chasing Spencer.

His face had fallen from its anger, indicating he was apologetic, but I was beyond accepting his sorry excuses anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I looked behind me to find our car at least a football field away. I guess in many ways, I’d gone the whole nine yards. 

“This is what you wanted right?” I turned back to him momentarily. My voice scared me how calm it was because, inside, I was boiling with rage. “Well, here you go, Spence. Have all the fucking space you want.” 

It was usually me watching his back while he walked away, and now, he was watching mine. 

“(Y/n), wait!” 

And for the briefest second, it actually felt good to be the first one to leave. 

I was free. 

_ _ _

To my dismay and relief, when I walked into work the next morning, he wasn’t there. I would’ve looked for him with more than a cursory glance except I was stuck on looking at something strange in the bullpen that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But as I walked further in, a blaring siren went off in my head. 

Spencer’s desk is completely empty. 

I instantly sorted through my purse for my phone to reach Prentiss when I noticed something more. 

I had been desperate to cling onto any notion that he still loved me, and there it was, just sitting on his desk. Proof that the man I loved was still in there somewhere.

The top three pictures from the carnival photo booth.

I laughed, as I always did, thinking about how much we had to exert ourselves to be positioned in a semi-adequate way. In the next wave, I felt profoundly empty. He had kept the pictures all these years, and now that I finally get to see them, he’s left me.

As I brought my hand to my face to clear the tears pooling at my lower lashes, I saw that my finger had an ink smear on the pad of it. There was nowhere else I could’ve obtained it except for if there was writing on the back of the photos. 

What I read when I turned it over was as follows. 

I want to be this guy for you again, (y/n). I just don’t know how. 

I just don’t know if I can.

No matter how much I’ve changed, one thing’s still the same.

I love you. 

I should’ve focused on the message, but all that I could focus on was that if I managed to smear the ink, that meant it was fresh, written just now. 

He was still here. 

I pocketed the photos and abandoned my purse, only carrying with me the phone that I forgot to use to dial Prentiss. After a moment’s indecision, I figured that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and I bounded down the steps without hesitation. 

“Spencer!” I yelled into the parking structure when I reached the ground floor. The sound of me bursting through the door caught the attention of Anderson, who was getting out of his car. 

“I just saw him leave.” Anderson threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. I knew, even in my state of mind, there was no feasible reality where I could reach him on foot. I had to call him. 

I pleaded to myself for him to pick up with every ring of my phone. 

“(Y/n),” He said like a statement instead of a question. Again, he’d anticipated I’d do this. He probably picked it up not even having to look at the caller ID but knowing it was me and no one else. 

“I don’t need you to be the guy you were before, Spencer. I just need you to bend a little bit. I know we’re both stubborn people, but if we can just find a halfway point-”

“(Y/n), (y/n),” He was settling me and the sentences that were coming out of my mouth at 100 mph. 

“I’ll bend if you bend.” I promised. 

The static of the call filled my ears until his voice finally did.

“For everyone else, I bend ... for you, I break.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[windandwater]

twice now at the beach I've cornered professionals working there to yell at them about marine animals and the ocean and find out more about what lives there so here's what happened both times.

The first was at Assateague, one of my favorite places in Maryland, I highly recommend going there if you are ever in the area. It's part of a long barrier island and you get both bay/marshes & ocean beaches and both are full of amazing wildlife.

On the way in/out of the beach there was a little "nature corner" booth with a guy with stuff like egg casings, replica seal skulls, seal skin, etc. Of course I quizzed him on every single thing on the table and started asking more questions (you get seals here? what time of year? how far north do they go? what about whales?) which led to my favorite thing of all which is animal people telling me about their favorite animal and his is whelks:

Whelks have two ways of killing their prey, which is usually bivalves. One is to get the edge of their shells between the seal of their shells and pry them open and suck them out.

The other is to clamp down on top of them and release a mucus that drills down through the shell of the bivalve and dissolves it and suck them out that way.

Me, absolutely delighted: "wow it's a bad day for that bivalve" Him: "oh yeah it's all over for them"

He also had a fish that looked like a pufferfish but wasn't quite, though it was related to them, which got me started talking about the love of my life boxfish. I mentioned I'm really annoying in aquariums and he said "Yeah just going up to random people and telling them all about the fish they're looking at..."

Me: "Actually YEAH I just got back from London where they had a boxfish and I was staring at it for a really long time so when this couple came up and I told them all about it..." (true story I had never seen one in person before!! and I was staring at this random tiny yellow fish and felt I needed to explain myself and also couldn't help it) Him: "That's gonna be me with whelks someday." Me: "Well I loved it!!! I love learning stuff like this, thank you."

We also saw a couple probably-dead horseshoe crabs and a definitely-dead ray in Ocean City (that we pushed back into the water after some random family started picking them up and posing for photos with them; guys nature is not a toy, respect it and don't fucking play with dead animals, what the hell). And in "there's something wrong with me" news, some girl told me she saw a fin while we were swimming and she thought it was a shark and I was horribly disappointed when it turned out to be dolphins. But we saw dolphins!

A guy caught a fish right as I walked past his line in Assateague, which was not as cool as the time someone caught a shark there when I was a kid, or the ray someone else caught before I got there, but it was really exciting and he called me his good luck charm.

So that was Assateague. I love it there. There are also wild horses, btw, and we saw a couple of those as well! I've been so many times that I'm pretty immune to them by now but I hopefully got some good pics.

Anyway THIS weekend I decided it was high time I went to the Rockaways and oh man. New favorite New York beach. I almost got pinched by a crab! I felt its claw close around my toe and yanked my foot away in time but I honestly got so excited. ... I know, I'm broken inside. But it's really because to me that says it's a healthy/clean area.

...And because it gave me an excuse to pump the lifeguard for information about the wildlife on that beach, which I immediately did. He confirmed that crabs do live there and if they really get you it hurts like a motherfucker. But mostly I wanted to know if there are ever whales there because I know they do come into the East River, and apparently they do not but tons of dolphins do in the early morning. They get some sharks but not a lot (boo) but have had Great Whites and sea turtles wash up nearby, which is sad but you have to hope they died of natural causes :(. I learned at the NY aquarium that actually there is a TON of wildlife that lives/migrates just a few miles off the coast of New York City; it's actually crazy that maybe two or three miles out there are sea turtles and whales and sharks. He confirmed hearing that and I'm like yo I learned that at the aquarium you should go.

Mostly I learned that lifeguards are extremely bored on duty, I kept being like oh I probably shouldn't bother this dude and he kept talking, it was great.

Anyway I know I just talked a lot about basically nothing but it's exciting to me. Since I don't have to live close to the office (where I lived for 10 years, I’ve been in NYC for 11 years, for reference/anyone new) anymore I am seriously considering a move to be closer to the city's beaches and to live somewhere where I can have an outdoor area and possibly a small back garden so part of this is scouting out what I want to be closest to when I finally save up to move. I think the Rockaways is the beach I want the easiest access to. I never even considered the possiblity of growing outdoor plants in this part of my life so when I think about it it's a little hard to imagine but also feels so good and right. I adore my apartment and my neighborhood but it's been 10 years and it's time to think about what I want for the next 10 years; and when I visualize it, it's a little house with a garden close to a beach and some new parks.

So there you go. That's a life and weird fish update for you, all in one.