#this is the second time I’ve used strangers by casual fan for a word post

[korshrimpski]

stranger, casual fan x loscar

[pandapetals]

Watch It, Bub

Logan whips out his claws to scare off some creepy guy for you.

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - established bf/gf, shy reader, introvert reader, bookish reader, logan being protective, logan whipping his claws out, cute ending, some fluff, some angst, no y/n used, no reader description, sweetheart/darlin pet names used

a/n: inspired by @romanarose post about logan whipping out his claws at any tiny threat towards reader.

"Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll be just over there looking handsome," Logan murmured, brushing a quick, warm kiss against your cheek before stepping away.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at his usual confidence, but you felt the familiar flutter in your chest as he headed to the other side of the store. You hadn’t expected him to come with you today—bookstores weren’t exactly his thing—but here he was, giving you the space to browse in peace, even offering to pay for whatever books you wanted. He knew how much this place meant to you.

With a small smile lingering on your face, you turned down the fiction aisle, your eyes drifting over the rows of books. The shelves were packed, full of spines in every color, each one a doorway into a new world. You felt at home here, surrounded by the comforting smell of paper and dust, your fingers grazing the covers as you searched for the title you came for.

But as you rounded a corner, your easy calm shifted. A man was standing a little way down the aisle, leaning against a shelf with a book open in his hands. His posture was casual, but there was something in the way he glanced up at you—quick, assessing—that made the back of your neck prickle. His gaze lingered a second too long, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You considered turning around, ducking into another section, but a voice in your head stopped you. Would he think that was rude? Why should you care what he thought? But still, your heart beat a little faster, and you could feel the edges of your shyness creeping in, making your movements a bit more stiff.

Taking a quiet breath, you forced yourself to keep going. You focused on the titles, searching for that book you’d been wanting. Your fingers tightened around the spine of a novel as you found it, pulling it from the shelf with a small, victorious smile. But before you could fully turn away, you heard him clear his throat.

“Hey," he said, his tone almost too casual. "So…you into that author?”

The question caught you off guard. You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

He tilted his head, closing the book in his hands. "Just wondering if you’re a fan. I’ve read a lot of their stuff. Thought maybe we could compare notes.”

His smile was meant to be friendly, but there was something too forward about it, too expectant. You felt your cheeks flush, the words caught somewhere in your throat. You hadn’t prepared yourself for small talk—especially not with a stranger who seemed to have taken a bit too much interest in you.

The man’s question hung in the air, and you felt a weight in his gaze, waiting, pressing as if he had a right to your attention. Your brain scrambled for something to say, but all you could manage was, “Yeah—I mean, I guess.”

Your cheeks felt warm, an awkward flush creeping up as you struggled to fill the silence. You wished, just for once, you could handle moments like this smoothly—could just have a regular conversation without your words tangling on the way out. But another part of you bristled, reminding you that you didn’t owe this stranger anything. You glanced down at the book in your hands, hoping he’d take the hint and move on.

Instead, he stepped closer, a too-friendly grin stretching across his face. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping as if to make the conversation more intimate, “I’m always happy to give recommendations if you’re looking for something… different.” He reached out and touched your arm, a casual gesture that lingered a beat too long, his fingers warm against your sleeve.

A chill shot up your spine. You stiffened, pulling your arm back instinctively, but the man didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care. He leaned in, that smile of his edging from friendly to something more expectant, his gaze fixed on you as if he were waiting for permission to keep going.

Your heart sped up, the edges of your discomfort sharpening. You swallowed, feeling the prickling heat of anxiety clawing its way up your throat. You opened your mouth, trying to summon a polite excuse to leave, but the words died as a shadow fell over you both.

Logan had appeared beside you, silent as a storm gathering on the horizon. His hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you close to him. He didn’t look at you—his focus was locked entirely on the stranger, his eyes dark and unblinking.

“Watch it, bub?” Logan’s voice was low and even, each word laced with a quiet, unmistakable threat. “She’s not interested.”

The stranger’s grin faltered, his fingers twitching as he quickly withdrew his hand from where he’d touched your arm. He looked between you and Logan, his smile turning nervous as he took in the hard line of Logan’s jaw, the clenched fists. Logan’s stance seemed to expand, filling the aisle. A faint, metallic snikt cut through the silence as Logan’s claws slid out just far enough to make his intentions crystal clear.

“I—uh,” the guy stammered, his eyes wide. “Didn’t mean any harm, man. Just… being friendly.”

“Then back off.” Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice steady as steel. “Find someone else to be friendly with.”

The stranger held up his hands in a quick, defensive gesture, the color draining from his face. “Yeah, yeah. No problem,” he muttered, taking a step back. He turned and practically tripped over his own feet as he made his way down the aisle, disappearing around the corner without looking back.

As soon as he was gone, Logan’s posture softened. His claws retracted with a soft click, and he turned to you, his expression shifting from deadly to concerned. He brushed a gentle thumb over your shoulder where the stranger had touched you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble of reassurance.

You felt a small, shaky smile tug at your lips as the tension slowly ebbed from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath, but laced with quiet relief.

Logan’s eyes softened, his mouth curving into that rare, gentle smile he saved just for you. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles over your skin. “Can’t have anyone bothering my girl,” he said.

A soft laugh escaped you, and a gentle warmth bloomed in your chest, melting away the last of your unease. “I guess it was my fault…” you started, feeling a bit sheepish. “Maybe I should have just walked away.”

Logan’s face darkened, and he shook his head firmly. “No, sweetheart. Don’t go blaming yourself.” His eyes flicked toward the empty aisle where the stranger had disappeared, his jaw tightening as if the man were still standing there. “He put his hands on you…” His voice dipped into a dangerous growl, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “I should’ve cut off his damn arm.”

The words were half-joking, but his eyes flashed with something deadly serious. You could feel his protective fury simmering just below the surface, a fierce heat held in check only by his respect for you. It was a reminder of exactly who he was—the dangerous edge he kept hidden, for your sake.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Well, good thing you didn’t… cut off his arm,” you said, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual hardness melting into something warmer that seemed to wrap around you like a shield. Slowly, his hand traced down your arm, his fingers leaving a gentle warmth that lingered on your skin long after they passed.

“You’ll never have to find out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady promise.

His words hung between you, carrying a weight that was both fierce and comforting as if he was making a vow he intended to keep with every fiber of his being. You felt a soft warmth bloom in your chest, and suddenly the world seemed a little smaller and safer, with him beside you.

You met his eyes, feeling your own shyness creeping in, but unable to look away. “Thank you, Logan,” you whispered, feeling the words fall short of what you really meant.

He just gave a small, knowing smile, as if he understood everything you couldn’t quite say. Then, with one last brush of his thumb along your arm, he pulled back, letting you return to your books, but not before giving you a final, reassuring nod that told you he’d be right there if you needed him.

[sunnysidekit]

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Just wanted to swing by and say how much I love your blog! It's rare to get such a grounded, adult perspective on ST. Even rarer for Byler. Blogs run by younger fans are often too modern in their expectations - I've seen people claim Byler will openly date or even marry. In the 80s! And there's a lot of tumblrspeak about "disaster gays" and "smol beans" that just makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I'm too old for it but it feels fetishizing and demeaning of the characters. You're much more respectful

“ I appreciate that would be a divisive thing to post, but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you being the adult in the room. You know what you're talking about, and it shows. Even the way you go back and forth on how canon Byler will be matches my own feelings and is refreshingly honest, in a landscape that demands people pick a side and pretend to know it all. It's an annoying feature of Tumblr and I like that you resist it and just give your honest opinions in the moment.” I don’t know if these two Asks are from the same person, but they’re similar and came in around the same time, so I figure I’ll respond to both together.

First, thank you. I appreciate that I can bring a different perspective to the fandom and that you enjoy it.

I make no attempt to be “the adult in the room,” but I do try to be an adult in the room. I feel like everyone has a perspective to bring to the discussion. Some may be, hm, more superficial than others, but I don’t think that makes those posts any less valid, per se. Still, I can see where you’re coming from. I’m not going to condemn the younger fans, as I probably would have been somewhat similar were I still that age, but I would be lying if I said there weren’t posts that I found frustrating and/or counterproductive.

To address concerns specific to the first post, I’ll say that the attitudes of younger Byler fans reflects a modern acceptance of gay teens. I can’t say that I get on board with the terminology, but I can see some nuance behind it. Sometimes it might be minimizing the characters into tropes, but other times it might also be a sort of identification with the characters. If it helps people explore themselves or the world of LGBT identity, then I’m all for it.

At the very least, I don’t think most of those people are trying to be disrespectful. They really don’t have a good understanding of what it would be like to be gay back then, but I see that as a good thing. When I stop to think about it, I feel pretty good seeing that people are so comfortable talking about gay teens that they’ll use such casual language about it. Yeah, it does seem like they don’t take the issues seriously, but that means there’s an opportunity for learning that I hope they’ll take.

Byler may not openly date or marry in the “present” time of the show, but I find it nice that younger fans see it as normal enough to think so. I think older fans such as myself should take that as a point of contrast that tells us that even if Mike and Will would have to be together in secret, the modern climate would allow the writers to show us. Besides, there could always be a epilogue.

Regarding the second post, I think the stubbornness (for lack of a better term) of many people online comes from the fact that we tend to create our own echo chambers. We use tags and join communities to largely target an audience that we think will support us. Dissenting views become less and less common, which results in an echo chamber that serves to reinforce itself. I’m not directing that at any person in particular, rather it’s an observation of social media itself. I actually think Tumblr is a bit better with alternative ideas than, say, Twitter or Reddit.

Still, I think there’s room for improvement. There’s always room for improvement. People can get carried away with criticism or take things too personally, or there can be a combination of the two. We need to be able to disagree without it being personal. I know that I’ve personally adjusted my opinions on many Stranger Things theories based on the thoughts of others here. I thought I was right, but someone else’s take just made more sense and had more support. It didn’t mean that I was stupid, or that the other person was an ass.

I’ve been on the wrong side of it before, though. One time, for example, I pressed someone too hard for more and more support for their theories to the point that they became frustrated with me. I meant no offense, but I still had to accept that I was being a problem, even if I didn’t mean to be. I was simply unconvinced and was hoping they had more to reassure me, but I did a poor job of getting that across. I apologized, and I think we’re still cool, but it was a reminder to me that I can offend without meaning to, and that still warrants an apology and being more careful with my words.

I know some people think changing opinions is a sign of weakness, but I see it as a strength. It’s a sign of intelligence and humility to be able to acknowledge that you’re wrong about something. I started out early on feeling that Byler should be canon, but probably wouldn’t be. Over time, however, through analyzing the show and discussing it with others, I grew to be more confident in it. People were able to show me evidence that I just would not have been aware of had I not come to Tumblr. I’m not the type of person to watch and rewatch scenes to pick them apart or spot the tiniest details, but those who can do that allowed me to use my own skills to get into the psychology of the show.

I think we all have something to add to the conversation if we’re willing to listen in return. I appreciate being called an adult in the room, but I think we all could be if that just means being mindful of one’s words and how they affect others.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings​ @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?

[kirbyspits]

A lot of Makorra shippers only moved on because they’re afraid of being called homophobic for not shipping korrasami. I LITERALLY saw someone on Instagram yesterday call a makorra shipper homophobic just for saying korrasami came out of nowhere. Also, Korrasami shippers LOVE to bring up the "popping bottles" backlash to make fun of makorra shippers. I left the tlok fandom in 2014 bc it was so toxic as a teenager, but now i’m 23. I’m no longer afraid of shipping something i always loved.

Ah, yes, I realized I didn’t address the fandom's toxicity in the last ask, but I’ve spoken about it before. I don't talk too much about the past because I was at the edge of the fandom back in 2014/2015. I was aware of fights, but the discussions I saw were moreso on bi-erasure. I saw one post saying it was wrong to ship Makorra. I remember being really confused about why Makorra was actually problematic, but I didn’t appreciate being told who I can ship the only dark-skinned woman protagonist on a major television network with. Why are you forcing me to ignore Mako and Korra’s relationship? Book 1 is practically about Mako and Korra, all other characters be damned. Me preferring the story of one pairing and a popular romance trope, second chances, is not wrong, and no one would know how I view the LGBT+ community based on who I ship in one show.

I ended up leaving the community because I was disappointed with season 4 in general. When Korra was released on Netflix, I figured it was time to rewatch the series again (plus, I’ve been binging all my favorite romance anime). So imagine my shock when I created a new Tumblr and Twitter account to rant and rave about TLOK, and I saw nothing but hate and name-calling in the Makorra tags. I saw people casually throwing around the word “homophobic,” and one person said people who don’t like Korrasami are just misogynistic. 

I just wanted pretty pictures, and people are out here psychoanalyzing shippers! So, I dug through some blogs and to feel more grounded with this fandom I didn’t recognize. After reading through their commentaries and experiences, I actually became more upset at Bryke than the teenagers/children who comment on Makorra posts saying how much better Korrasami is or accuse Makorra shippers of being homophobic. 

Yes, I truly believe these comments are mostly coming from people in their late teens and younger, at least in 2020. I can’t speak on 2014/2015, but since we were younger, the early 20s/late teens, I wonder if our age group was also the loudest. Don’t get me wrong, adults can be horrible people and can get really nasty. However, every time I look up the rudest commenters' profiles, they were teens. When one Korrasami shipper wrote “screw Makorra” on my AMV, I figured I’d have some fun trolling them until I clicked on their profile and saw a child. Needless to say, I ignored them and reflected on how parents are allowing their babies on TikTok while my parents freaked out at the idea of showing my picture on FB growing up. 

*I’m not still mad about that*

Also, while it doesn’t give anyone an excuse to make such a strong accusation, part of me, as a straight person, feels like I can’t get too upset because I also become very aware of my privilege. The space I’m in is a majority of young LGBT+ fans (at least on Twitter where I’ve seen the most toxicity). Some people see TLOK as their safe space and imply why should there be Makorra shippers when they have all these other cis/het shows they can engage with. It doesn’t work like that, of course. TLOK doesn’t only feature Bi characters. They’re POC/Indigenous, women, and Korra has dark skin. That’s a lot of marginalized communities. Makorra/TLOK is my comfort show, not because she’s with a man, but because of the reasons I just listed. Also shipping Korra with Mako doesn’t mean she’s no longer bi. She’d still be attracted to women.

Here’s who I am upset with tho, Bryke. Mostly Bryan. While Makorra shippers called out Korrasami shippers for cyberbullying, the focus seemed to be on Bryan for making it seem like there was something wrong with them for not finding Korrasami’s narrative satisfying. It was especially sad to read bloggers who identified as being part of the LGTB+ community saying Bryan’s hetero-lens dismissed their experience and then having to defend/proving themselves to anonymous messengers. 

Fans saw it as a betrayal. They saw it as the go-head for the rude Korrasami shippers to harass Makorra artists because they “didn’t watch the show correctly.” When the creator, the person you admire, also puts the blame on you, that kind of pain is on another level.

Korrasami shippers played a huge role in kicking Makorra shippers out of the fandom, but we can’t underestimate how much Bryan’s statement is a slap in the face. He used his characters and social justice as a shield for reasonable criticism. Just because we say a story is bad and Asami is grossly underwritten doesn’t mean that we’re against the idea of Korra and Asami being a couple. 

Of course, I’ve seen some very problematic statements from Makorra shippers. After all, homophobia is real. However, aside from the actual bigots, people have no issue with Korrasami. They just wanted a stronger connection between the girls. Many people seem to think Makorra shippers were looking for more romance, but we know we couldn't expect that. We can expect more screentime, musical cues, and more emotional support, which most people can see as platonic, but be romantic if you really want to. Mako’s interactions in book 4 can be seen as platonic, but all of us Makorra shippers saw it to be romantic.

Popping bottles! I completely missed that joke in 2014 and I discovered it this year. I agree it’s pretty annoying, but I become a troll and say I’m popping bottles for my Makorra moments. I don’t get any engagement, but I don’t seem to lose followers for it. Maybe popping bottles represents “straight-baiting?” I don’t get it why it’s so funny after all this time, but we’re Makorra shippers. We’re the joke 🙄

Anyways, to wrap up, lately, there seems to be a bit of a shift on Twitter. When I first created an account. I stayed in my little corner live-tweeting about TLOK and Makorra. I had to stop looking at the Makorra tag because it was so negative. Now, I’m seeing people admit they’re cute, and then saying they’re platonic soulmates. I’ll take it, although, as one commenter said, “that’s boring!” 

Someone led a Makorra Week back in October, and it was really nice! I have feeling people speaking up on the name-calling and reminding people that we’re talking about 2D characters helped. We just want to be left alone and enjoy the scenes we have in the show, art, and fanfiction. 

Keep shipping who you want! Don’t let any stranger shame you for your shipping preferences, especially in fiction! I’m so happy you feel more comfortable shipping these two dorks! You’re not alone! I’ve been a Makorra shipper since 2012, and while I find Korrasami cute (I love Korra, and I love Asami), Makorra is my OTP. I really like them, and I think they were meant for each other.

[mythicamagic]

Eve’s Inferno - Rukiyui oneshot

Dante's Inferno AU. Eve has searched almost every circle of Hell, leaving just one left. In order to find Adam, she must face the one responsible for their banishment from Eden. But the Devil is used to whispering sweet nothings, and Ruki has succeeded in getting under her skin once before. Rukiyui oneshot.

AN: Made for the Diabolik Lovers Zine @diabolikloverszine​ and published with permission since the sales have closed. I had this idea a long time ago, due to Ruki often being associated with Lucifer in the games. Hope you enjoy!

Rated T

3,000 words (also posted on Ao3)

Eve's Inferno

Disembarking from the small boat, a young woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. He smiled gently with ashen lips and doleful eyes, nodding to a set of double doors awaiting her.

Thanking him, she offered coins for the ride but was met with a quiet decline. He soon pushed off the dead earth, slinking back up the dark, murky waters of the cavern's river.

The grey doors had vast, intricate carvings of desperate people rising out of it, frozen mid-air, arms outstretched and clawing as though trying to escape. She wondered if they were real human souls, trapped as such a mundane part of the underworld. Taking a breath, she set her shoulders and reached out. The doors opened easily under her hesitant touch.

The woman didn't know what to expect behind them. Perhaps fire and brimstone, the dead or dying, tortured continuously and screams ringing out. But the vast, open space looked empty. There were no cries of pain, blissfully silent. A large cave awaited her, walls dark and jagged with obsidian rock. At her feet lay a cool, frozen lake, solid enough for her to stand on as it took up the entirety of the floor, spreading wide. Curling, misty air didn't chill her bones or make breath visible, instead feeling a little heady.

She steeled herself, walking forwards. In all the domain only a single thing truly held her gaze, that of a lone white tree standing on a small island. The shock of white and green was impossible to ignore.

With careful steps, she crossed the lonely, silent space. Walking onto the island, fresh grass crunched beneath her feet- soon coming to a stop. Breath catching, wide eyes took in the sight of a man with familiar dark hair reclined against the tree. He held a book, pale fingers gripping its spine.

She could not place how she felt, standing there, watching him calmly read. Soft, blue-grey eyes looked as disarming as she remembered when they flicked up to her. But they could sharpen. That tempting mouth could praise and charm one moment and then damn her the next.

"Good to see you, Yui."

"Hello Ruki," she murmured, folding her hands before her skirts. Swallowing, she babbled; "I didn't pay the ferryman, I hope that's alright."

"Azusa can be overly generous, it hardly matters," he dismissed, shifting long legs. "What can I do for you?"

Yui's fingers twisted into her sleeve. The casualness of his question belied Ruki's penchant for manipulation. If she weren't careful, she'd make a mistake, just like their last meeting all those years ago in Eden.

So, raising her head, she set thin shoulders. "I'm here for Adam," her tone was firm and final.

No surprise flickered in his expression, attention returning to his book as though bored.

"I-if you can't give him to me, then I'd like to know where he is. I've been looking for him in the other eight circles for-"

"Centuries, I know."

Annoyance flared, "if you knew, why didn't you meet with me? The other princes weren't very..." she trailed off, curbing her tongue for the sake of diplomacy, "helpful."

A deceptively pleasant chuckle rang out. "Do you expect the ruler of a domain to heed every whim from their subjects? Especially subjects of hell?" Cruel lips curved as he shifted, setting the book down before standing. "Besides, most people when searching for someone will give a description."

Yui held her ground when he approached, heart thundering- drumming wildly in her ears. "You know what he looks like."

"But you don't."

The dark-haired young man, despite his handsome features, did not possess a presence that stood out or screamed malice. When compared with the other princes, his appearance wasn't as eye-catching, attitude not as loud or attention-grabbing. In a crowd, your gaze would likely pass over him. Despite this, when he stepped closer, Yui felt a pressure in the air. A type of sticky humidity that heralded storms. Those eyes, so calm and cold, implored her to confess her sins and sink to her knees. He'd treat her like a pet. A well-fed, maybe even cared for pet, but a pet nonetheless.

"P-please don't toy with me," she murmured. "You probably removed my memories of his face and voice, but I remember Eden. You won't keep us apart."

Ruki reached for her, brushing a shock of cold knuckles against her cheek. Yui congratulated herself for not flinching despite the rush of feeling that attacked her. Compared to the second circle of Lust, with prince Laito's thoughtless, grabby hands, this was nothing. And yet... such a small touch demanded her attention, skin pricking.

"Of course you'd assume I did that. Doesn't it occur to you that he put you here and dictated your punishment?" Hot breath fanned over her mouth, and something tightened in Yui's lower stomach. Lulled by the stroke of his fingers gliding from chin to ear, Yui rocked back on her heels to try to clear her head.

That touch changed- locking into blonde hair and grasping tight to prevent escape. Yui stilled with a gasp, gritting her teeth.

"You're afraid," he purred.

"N-no," she thought for a moment and admitted; "not of what you can do to me. Just of my memories fading."

She'd seen what that did to souls. Lost, wandering figures mourning their own condition. They couldn't even remember their own names.

That touch turned gentle and soothing again, but she didn't trust it not to turn into violence at a second's notice. "Why do you care so much about finding him?"

"B-because I love him?" Wasn't that a question with an obvious answer? She'd literally been created from a rib to be Adam's other half.

"You can't love someone you don't remember. Someone you don't know. You'd trust a stranger like that?" Devastatingly beautiful eyes shifted over her pale expression, his pupils slightly slit. Ruki leaned closer, lips ghosting over the delicate shell of her ear. This time she was unable to suppress a shiver. "You should give yourself over to your Master's hands instead... I wouldn't treat my Livestock poorly."

Something hot churned in her stomach. "You're not my Master and I'm not cattle."

A low chuckle resounded in her ear, firm fingers gliding down her spine. "I seem to remember us having a conversation similar to this a long time ago. Do you recall?"

Yui squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push back the memory. It flooded through the gaps between her fingers like water. She could suddenly smell thick, choking scents of roses, feel lush grass and flowers brushing at bare legs. Lashes reluctantly opened, and her breath hitched.

The lake and lone tree were nowhere in sight. Ruki had vanished. Instead, she found herself wandering through the achingly familiar gardens of Eden. Birds sang to each other in twisting trees, lions and other predators lazed around, heedless of her or other prey. Yui felt her skin prick from a faint chill in the air, glancing down to find herself naked.

It was all exactly as she remembered. She'd become Eve again, lost in those painful memories that had haunted her for centuries. Only... she still couldn't remember Adam.

---

Rounding a large flower bed, Eve lay eyes on a single tree, separated from all other greenery. It bore fruit, red apples catching the sun in such a way that salvia filled her mouth at the mere thought of tasting them.

"You can have one if you like."

Eve's gaze slid down the apple tree's truck to find a man leaning against it. No, not a man.

An angel.

She frowned, making no move to cover herself as she approached.

"But I was told not to."

The dark-haired angel smiled, and she felt no reason to be afraid. "Why do you obey blindly?"

"I don't know."

Some frustration marred his handsome face. He gestured to a small pond not too far away, "go look into the water."

The woman did so because she'd been told to, and it didn't cross her mind to resist. Kneeling at the water's edge, blonde hair slid forward and Eve's breath hitched at the sight of her own reflection. Her eyes struggled to take in the image, a stunned hand raising to touch her reddening cheek.

'That's me...'

Complicated thoughts blazed to life in her mind where none had been before. Wonder, perception, a briefly vain absorption in her own existence having palpable proof before her eyes. What a gentle and pretty face. She loved it simply because it was her own, something that only she owned. Eve was at once changed. No longer an extension of Adam, she felt like a person.

The angel knelt not too far away. "I'll ask again; why do you obey blindly?"

"Well because..." she trailed off, swallowing. "I suppose I was created after Adam so I should behave in order to show my gratitude?"

"You act like a Livestock that's been reared and bred in a shelter. That doesn't sound like honest loyalty to me."

"No, I- maybe it isn't, " her arms moved to hug herself, wondering why she felt a little cold. Maybe it was the strange, isolated feeling his question awakened in her. "What is... honest loyalty?"

His eyes sharpened, tone becoming firm. "It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're a worthy Master."

Eve picked at soft green grass, mulling this over. "Sounds as though you have experience with it."

"Mn, though lately, I've been feeling dissatisfied."

She got the sense that he wouldn't be saying anything more. "I feel... different. Like I'm not the same Eve as a moment ago."

Her companion shifted to stand, some white feathers from exquisite wings falling to land on the water's surface. She watched them float and twirl slowly with fascination.

"If you're someone else, you could always give yourself a new name," he casually suggested.

"Give... myself?" Eve chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. A name came out of nowhere. No one suggested it, so at once, she felt slightly giddy and pleased with her hushed murmur of: "...Yui."

Blue-grey eyes shifted. A pale hand rested on his chest as he bowed slightly. "Yui. Well met."

"Well met," she blushed, glancing at the funny material wrapped around his body curiously. "What's your name?"

"I was given the name Lucifer."

Yui tilted her head, sending lush falls of blonde over one shoulder. "Oh, did you change yours too?"

"Yes. I chose the name Ruki instead."

Her hands curled in her hair, testing out the new name on her tongue. "Ru...ki."

Ruki stiffened slightly, attention weighed upon her like a heavy, palpable thing with substance and form. She felt her cheeks flush, remembering the reflection of herself in the water. For the first time, she wondered what he might be thinking. What an angel's own perception of her was like.

"Mn... there's no need to get caught up with trivial things," he cleared his throat, walking towards the tree again.

"I wanted to ask about those things draping over your body," Yui chirped, following.

"My clothes? More trivial talk," he sighed, not particularly annoyed, however. Ruki stopped by the truck and rested a hand upon it, "you can have clothes too if you desire."

"I can?" So many new things were being offered to her today! She felt as though discovery was perhaps the single most wonderful thing to experience. She hungered for more- like the reflection and her new name. "Yes. I'd like that!"

He made a gesture, twisting his wrist in the air- and at once those strange, wondrous threads were wrapped around her, covering her shoulders but clinging around her chest and then falling down to her feet like a waterfall. Yui touched the material, finding it soft. She giggled, looking at him. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

Ruki nodded, face unreadable. He then gestured to the fruit hanging above them. "You can still take one of these if you wanted."

At this, she hesitated, stopping by his side. "I... I'm not sure..."

"Did we not establish that you don't have to give your loyalty to someone who hasn't earned it?" His pleasant voice remained patient. A cool hand, chilled to the touch, met the base of her spine. The woman stilled, feeling that palm drag up her back, before curling in her hair. He seemed at once too close and yet not near enough.

"Maybe if I... take a bite, I can explain that I was just discovering new things? I'll know what it's like and won't be tempted anymore," she murmured.

Strong fingers tightened, stroking the back of her neck. "What an interesting word to use. Yes, I suppose you won't be tempted. You'll have had experience, and no one should punish you for that."

She agreed and reached up of her own volition, grasping a red fruit and yanking to break it free. She then sank blunt teeth into the apple, making a noise as juices overflowed in her mouth. Ruki's slit gaze dilated.

"It tastes wonderful!" She smiled, offering him some. The angel refused, taking a few steps back.

"I'm happy for you, but I should really be going now."

"Oh," Yui wilted, not even noticing the darkening, angry clouds above. "A-alright, I'll see you later! I should go share this with Adam."

"Yes..."

---

Blinking, Yui shook herself. Like an after-image, Ruki and the gardens changed. They melted away, revealing the lonesome lake once more. Ruki stood without his wings, having lost them in the fall. She could remember hearing about his uprising, his sins. They were far worse and more numerous than her own, and yet there they stood, together in the last layer of Hell. Two traitors.

"You didn't need to show me that," Yui murmured. "I do still remember. Please, please just tell me where Adam is."

Ruki looked almost deceptively kind for a moment, features softening. "They forgave Adam. He has been accepted into Heaven and left you behind, Eve."

Her knees threatened to buckle, lungs constricting. No, no, she needed to calm down. Of course he'd lie. "The truth, please," she gritted out.

Strong hands caught her slim waist as she moved back, starting violently at his touch and proximity. "I am not lying, Livestock."

"How can you expect me to believe you?" tears pricked her eyes.

"I understand-" he hissed, gathering Yui's thin, shivering body closer and curling around her. "I'm the snake that tempted Eve. You don't trust me and see me as nothing but an unworthy Master- but there's a place for you, here Eve." The smoke of a smile lingered on his lips, unseen by her, but she could hear it, feel it in his voice. "Here, by my side. We're a lot alike, cast out for our sins. All we did was utilise our free will. I'm not like him..." Ruki quietly purrs. "I won't shut you out no matter how much you sin."

Tears leaked down her cheeks as Yui raised her head, finding his lips much closer than anticipated. "Just give me your loyalty."

Trembling, the sensation of his mouth pressing against hers stole her breath. Shame rose to mingle with the glow he elicited within her chest, feeling herself considering, wondering if perhaps- just maybe... he genuinely cared for her.

'What is...honest loyalty?'

Yui's fingers curled in his clothes.

'It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're...a worthy Master.'

Two hands shot out, shoving against his chest. 

Ruki grunted, eyes flashing. "Yui-"

"No! I-if it is true, then I-I'm happy for him!" Yui yelled. "Adam deserves to be free, but I won't ever give you my loyalty. I won't be your Livestock," she turned, hurrying away.

"Yui!" Ruki snarled, something hard leaking into his voice.

She stepped off the island, landing upon the lake a second before his hand met a barrier. Yui blinked, noting that he couldn't seem to set foot off the island, unable to leave the tree where he'd helped her commit the first sin of man. It seemed someone up in Heaven had a sense of humour.

Her blonde hair bounced as she jogged away, having no idea where to go. Anywhere was better than with him.

"You can't leave," came his quiet voice. "We'll keep going over this. We'll keep doing it, as many times as it takes for you to say yes."

Yui ignored him, reaching out to touch the large grey doors- only to hear a quiet snap of fingers behind her.

---

Sitting up, she stifled a yawn.

"We're here, miss."

Disembarking from the small boat, the woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. She tried to give him coins, but he declined, continuing on his way. Approaching some large, imposing grey doors, she noted they had vast, intricate carvings of people rising out of them. Taking a breath, she pushed them open, stepping into the quiet space.

Awaiting her, marooned on a single island within the lake, the Devil watched as Eve approached.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Galaxy Princess - 2/3

Galaxy Princess - 2/3

Characters → Y/N & Peter Quill, Mentions of other Marvel characters.

Summary → After the birth of superheroes, several alien attacks and the blip, you were pretty much ready for anything. That was until you met Peter Quill. He burst into your life at lightning speed and nothing could have prepared you for the way he turned your world upside down.

Word Count → 2k.

Warnings → 18+, Smut - oral (male receiving), p in v (unprotected - wrap it before you tap it bro).

Series Taglist → OPEN - send an ask.

Beta → @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Should have posted this at half 7 but everything seemed to go wrong BUT it’s here now… This is for @crushedbyhyperbole - I am so sorry that this is months late to your challenge! [Prompt: To the moon and back - in Part 3]. This is GOTG Vol1&2 Peter Quill set in a post-Endgame world. AND YES MY SCHEDULE WENT COMPLETELY WRONG.

Return to: Series List // Marvel List

Previously: Spare bedding was placed on the sofa and Y/N directed him around the apartment, “The shower is just down the hall. If you can’t sleep, here’s the tv remote and help yourself to food.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” 

“Goodnight, Starlord.” 

“It’s Peter.” His cheeky smile had faded to something softer. 

“Y/N. Goodnight Peter.”  

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He laid down and continued to wave until she shut the bedroom door. 

Y/N was too tired to process that she was leaving a stranger on his own, in her home. There was an odd comfort from his determination to get back to his ship and crew; the place he belonged.

After spending the best part of an hour deciding when to leave the bedroom and greet her guest, breakfast the next morning was not as awkward as Y/N had imagined. The moment she sat down at the kitchen table; her apprehension disappeared. It seemed natural to be opposite Peter, eating toast and draining her mug of coffee as he did the same.

“I’ve got some clothes that you can borrow,” She mentioned, trying to sound casual.

“Boyfriend?” His eyebrow quirked, obviously noticing the drop of her eyes, “Ex-boyfriend?” 

The air in the room disappeared, sucked out like a vacuum. Y/N was unable to think straight as the image of the owner of the clothes flashed in her mind's eye. Tears began to form, blurring her vision but before they fell she bit down on her bottom lip. Redirecting the emotional pain.

“My um, brother. I’ll be right back,” She whispered and rushed from the room.

She pushed open the door opposite her bedroom, and breathed in the, now faint, scent of hazelnut and him. The feel of the clothes under her fingertips was bittersweet, and Y/N couldn’t help bringing the sleeve of his favourite hoodie to her nose and inhaling deeply. 

Approaching footsteps echoed around the almost empty room, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a cotton t-shirt, immediately failing at composing herself in time as Peter entered the room. Kindness lined his features, and she couldn’t look at him any longer than a second.

“I think they should fit, you’re a similar height but he is- was- a bit leaner.” She offered him the items.

 Skin ignited at the delicate touch of Peter’s calloused hands that wrapped around her forearm, “Thank you. What was his name?”

“Eli. Elijah,” She whispered, her eyes unmoving from the thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “I don’t like talking about it. Why don’t you try the radio once more and I’ll head to the hardware store to see if I can fix the transmitter.”

Peter nodded, “Believe me, I know family is a tough subject for anyone.” She met his eyes, sincerity and sympathy stared back at her. “But if talking about it would help lighten some of the sadness in your eyes, I’d be happy to listen.” 

Y/N nodded and gave him a small smile, appreciating the kindness from the stranger.

The fixed transmitter sat on the windowsill. One of the three lights had finally turned on, it had beeped a few times which was, hopefully, a good sign. After four hours of waiting for something else to happen, Y/N and Peter resigned to watching Stranger Things.

Even though Peter was enthralled with the music and monsters that came from the television, he couldn’t help the way he felt as Y/N shared snippets of her life with him. The way she would talk to him about all the things she loved about science fiction, space and of all the new things on Earth. Y/N’s excitement was infectious, and he didn’t want to part with it.

To slow down and spend time with someone as enigmatic as she was a one-eighty on his usual fast-paced crazy life as a Guardian of the Galaxy.  And that’s when he knew that he’d have to stall his departure if possible.

While Y/N was getting ready for bed in the bathroom, Peter grabbed a cell phone from his red jacket and hopped out the window and onto the fire escape, perching on one of the steps. He flipped open the phone and dialled one of the few contacts he had.

“Hey, Bird Boy ‘Merica.” He chirped, glancing through the window to check that she hadn’t left the bathroom. “Can you give Rocket these coordinates? Pick up in five days? Cheers Cap.”

Pocketing the phone, he sat looking up to the sky, watching the stars twinkling in the distance, and for the first time since he was abducted all those years ago, he felt at home. Y/N’s footsteps brought him back to reality; he was leaving but not just yet.

“Whatcha doin’ out there?” She giggled, now in pyjamas and knotting the ties of her robe at her waist.

“Just checking out the sky, Princess.” He grinned at her.

Y/N climbed out the window and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the fire escape. They both greeted Stan on the way, a mischievous look on the older gentleman as he watched the pair laughing as they rushed up the stairs.

Once they reached the top, Y/N dropped his hand and twirled around with her arms open wide, then gestured to the sun lounger. “Welcome to my little piece of heaven.” She smiled proudly, “Take a seat.”

Peter sat back, legs either side of the lounger to allow Y/N to perch in between, “Come up here often?”

“Yeah, every Friday night, at least. It’s how I knew where you crashed,” She pointed to the woodlands in the distance.

“Well, I thank the stars that you were out here. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done.” Peter paused, watching the modesty line her features as she shrugged.

Y/N was different from the other girls he’d met. She had this look of adventure and passion for space, the universe, the unknown. Something that he had only seen in children. He could feel something blossoming; a desire to know more about her, spend more time with her, but he also knew that he’d be leaving and that was not going to put a downer on tonight.

Peter wanted to make the most of the time they had. However long they had. His hands gripped at Y/N’s waist, and he tugged her back, guiding her to lay on his chest. She hesitated at first but after a few seconds, she curled into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. Watching the sunset over the trees.

The cool breeze sent shivers up and down Y/N’s body, she held tighter onto Peter’s waist. Her mind raced with all the possibilities only to be destroyed by her insecurity; maybe this could be my way out? Don’t be silly. He’s just going to leave. You don’t know him; he could be a serial killer.

Peter brushed the strands of hair away from her face, bringing her out of her thoughts. Her body tensed as he tipped her chin upwards. She looked at him in wonder and slight confusion. Peter cupped her cheek, his lips met hers, and she was frozen in place.

After a moment, she melted into him, their lips moulded together seamlessly. Peter deepened the kiss, and earning a gasp from her, it allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth. It silenced her worries and all thoughts of this man being a stranger and being from out of space left her mind. The fact that they were on a rooftop and anyone could glance from the neighbouring apartments slipped away as his tongue danced with hers.

She couldn’t refrain from his touch any longer and adjusted her position; swinging her leg over his and straddled his lap, not breaking the kiss for a second. Peter’s arms snaked around her waist, holding her almost impossibly closer to him. 

The dressing gown fanned around them, giving her body access to the delicious friction of his erect cock through his jeans and her pyjama shorts, the material dampening at her core.

She wished she’d changed into the black underwear set that she had bought on a whim a couple of days ago. She was confident in pursuing this with Peter and she was glad her instincts were correct; it was just bad timing.

Peter’s deep moan disconnected their lips and Y/N bit hers as she watched the pleasure take over his features. His hands trailed down to her hips, gripping tightly to the soft gown, and untying the rope and pushing it off her shoulders. His lips met hers once more, she whimpered as his hands lifted her tank top over her head.

He drank in her appearance, his eyes scanning from her face down to her chest. He surged forward, his mouth leaving wet kisses to her jaw, following the path down her neck. Y/N’s hands found their way into his locks, tugging at the ends as he nipped at a sensitive spot on her collarbone.

Peter glanced up at her, an unspoken request for permission. She nodded and Peter obliged, latching around her nipple with his hand palmed at the other breast. Y/N gasped as his teeth scraped at the hardened bud then she tugged at Peter’s cotton top. He huffed as he finished his assault across her chest and pulled off the offensive article. Y/N stood up and shimmied out of the shorts. Peter followed suit with the denim and boxers.

The summer breeze struggled to cool their heated skin as they admired each other’s exposed figures. The moonlight cast shadows over their naked bodies yet highlighted every delicious dip and sensuous curve.

Y/N dropped to her knees in front of him, ignoring the debris that dug into her skin as she levelled herself with his cock. She used her index finger to smear the beaded pre-cum around his head. She curled her hand, gripping his shaft and languidly pumped.

“Fuck, Princess.” He grunted as she twisted her hand up and down his length. “Want your mouth.”

Y/N immediately parted her lips and began licking his tip then took him fully. The tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat caused her to choke slightly but as she regained her composure she looked up at Peter. Flushed cheeks and the darkened glint in his eyes held her gaze turned her into a mess.

Raspy moans and grunts spurred Y/N on; her tongue swirled, and she took him deeper into her throat once more. His hands gripped her shoulders, tugging her away to stand. The passion erupted between them, a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. Peter’s hands slid down her body, grabbed at her thighs to lift and she obliged. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he laid her down on the sun lounger. She was in awe at his strength while he pulled the cushions to soften her head and back before letting her go completely. 

Peter pulled the blanket across them both then nuzzled at her neck, nipping at her sensitive spots, behind her ear, the corner of her jaw and along the edge of her collarbone. He rested on his left side, to keep her from toppling off the side and to keep his full weight off her.

Y/N whimpered at the way his cock teased at her entrance with each of the restricted ruts of his hips. His hands snaked down to her core, fingers rubbing at her clit, coating in her slick before two entered her pussy. 

Peter’s mouth continued the assault on her neck, leaving darkening marks while Y/N’s soft moans rang through the night. It coaxed the fire burning in her belly; the pleasure shivered to the tips of her fingers and the curl of her toes.

Y/N arched her back, her nipples grazing against the hard planes of his chest. Her head tipped back into the cushions; he was filling every part of her existence with ecstasy. The stars above them blurred as he added another finger; widening her ready to take his dick.

Peter entered her slowly; both adjusting to this new level of intimacy as his lips connected with hers and their tongues joined the fray. Y/N’s core twisted in desire and impatience as she ground her hips to encourage his movement.

Peter pushed and pulled against her body, his pelvis hitting her deliciously with each thrust. Her walls clenched around him as he continued to grind and dip and tug at her. Y/N surrendered her body to him, letting him take control, and relished in every second as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

Her hands gripped tightly to his shoulders, nails digging into his tanned skin as his thrusts slowed but hardened. Their bodies moulded together as one, the feeling of weightlessness reached every corner of their existence as they reached their climax.

Peter pulled Y/N to lie across him, her head tucked into his neck. Their bodies relaxing into the cushions, their skin glistening with beaded sweat and the moonlight shining delicately across them both.

Y/N felt the gravitational pull back to reality; he was going to leave. It was only a matter of time.

To Be Continued...

Everything Tag List; @reann-loves-sebstan​ / @aroyaldarknessblr​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ / @kitkatd7​

Marvel Tag List; @natasha-danvers​ / @musesforart​

[cruelangelstheses]

the whirlwind girl

fandom: six of crows rating: T characters: inej, nina words: 2.1k additional tags: modern au with magic, first meetings, sexual harassment, could be read as platonic or romantic description: when a drunk man hits on inej at a bar, a stranger comes to her rescue. a/n: HIIII i wrote this for the @sixofcrowszine which has now been shipped so i can post!!! i don’t have much to say except that this book absolutely enraptured me and i love nina and inej and their interactions with each other so !! girls <3 inspired by that prompt that’s like “you were being hit on at a bar so i pretended to be your partner to get them to go away”

read it on ao3

—

Inej isn’t sure why she’s even here.

She’s never been a fan of clubs or bars or similar establishments, especially not at night—too loud, bursting full with people whose inhibitions are hindered by alcohol. Besides, she’s just finished performing, and while the roar of a crowd cheering for her is much different from a bunch of random drunks, it still counts as being around people, and it drains her just the same. She prefers to spend her evenings curled up with a book or hanging out with a couple of close friends, not out late partying.

The whole reason she even came into the Crow Club in the first place is because she knows someone who works here, a funny and good-natured—if reckless—young man named Jesper, who spends about the same amount of time gambling during his off-hours as he does bartending during his shifts. Unfortunately for Inej, it turns out that Jesper, for once in his life, actually isn’t here tonight, even though he’s always here on Saturday nights. According to the current bartender, a slightly older man that Inej doesn’t recognize, he’s on a date, of all things, with a boy named Wylan. Perhaps she’ll text him about it later and ask how it went.

She’s happy for him, of course, but this also means that she has no business being at the Crow Club, so now she’s sitting awkwardly at the bar with a virgin pina colada in hand. She rarely drinks alcohol; she always needs to feel sharp, like the edge of a fresh blade. She knows she could just pay and leave, but it feels weird; she just got here. Maybe she’ll sit and people-watch for another ten or fifteen minutes, then slip out.

As this thought crosses her mind, Inej watches as a stocky, sweaty-looking man, already clearly inebriated, enters the casino...and immediately plops down onto the empty barstool beside her.

Inej takes a sip of her drink and stares down into the glass, pretending to be incredibly interested in its contents, but it does nothing to stop the man from leaning over and saying, “Saw your performance.” His breath smells of cheap whiskey, and Inej has to stop herself from wrinkling her nose.

“Did you, now?” she says without looking at him. Inej works the same job she’s always worked: she performs with her parents as a small troupe of traveling acrobats. Despite their occupation being somewhat unconventional in this day and age—circuses and such just don’t get as much traction as they used to—they manage fairly well. Besides, Inej lives for the thrill of the high wire.

“I did,” the man replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him grinning like a wild dog. “Impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” Inej drums her fingernails nervously against the glass and takes another sip. She can feel her butterfly knife up against her hip, but using it might get her kicked out of the Crow Club—which wouldn’t be a huge loss, really, except that she’d hardly ever get to see Jesper. She already doesn’t see him very often since she travels so much. Or maybe pulling a knife on a guy wouldn’t make a difference here; it’s far from the nicest place in Ketterdam, and Ketterdam is far from the nicest city in Kerch.

Unexpectedly, the man slings an arm around Inej’s shoulders. “What do you say to showing me a few more tricks, hmm?”

This is why Inej doesn’t like bars.

“Um.” She clears her throat, squirming slightly. “No, thank you. Uh, my parents wouldn’t be pleased.”

The man licks his lips. His eyes gleam with bad intentions. “Who says your parents have to know, huh?”

Before Inej can say or do anything else, a brown-haired whirlwind of a girl she’s never seen before marches up to them and says in Kerch, “Hey! Hands off my girlfriend!”

Inej can feel her face heating up. Either this girl has the wrong person, or she knows exactly what she’s doing.

The man narrows his eyes in confusion and reluctantly pulls his arm away from Inej. The girl, pale and curvaceous with bright green eyes, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head in disbelief. “Honestly. I leave for five minutes to go to the bathroom and come back to find that someone thinks he can just put his hands all over her. I mean, have some damn respect!” At that, she points an accusatory finger at the man.

Alright. It’s definitely the latter.

“I, uh, didn’t realize she was taken,” he says as he looks the girl up and down. “But hey,” he adds with a sly grin, “the more the merrier, right?”

The girl groans. “Classic,” she mutters under her breath. Putting a hand on the man’s upper arm, she leans in and says, quiet but firm, “We’re not interested.”

The man’s eyelids start to droop. Then, a second later, he passes out face-first onto the counter. A few people turn to look in their direction, and the girl feigns concern, gesturing helplessly to the man. “I think he had too much to drink,” she says, which is probably true, to be fair. One of the bouncers sighs and wanders over to grab him.

Inej watches them in silence. It’s not until the bouncer and the unconscious man are completely out of earshot that she turns to the girl that rescued her and says, not unkindly, “You’re a Heartrender.”

The girl hops up onto the barstool previously inhabited by the drunk man. “That I am,” she says quietly, so as not to be heard by the wrong set of ears. Suddenly she’s speaking in perfect Suli instead of Kerch, perhaps to make Inej more comfortable. “But more importantly, I’m the girl who just saved your ass.” She shrugs. “I thought maybe I could get him to leave you alone without having to use my power, but then he got creepier, so I just kind of said ‘fuck it’ and lowered his heart rate enough to make him pass out.”

Inej laughs a little at that. “I bet that’s useful,” she replies.

“Oh, yeah,” the girl agrees, “but I’m also persecuted for it, so...you win some, you lose some, I guess.” She says it casually, but Inej can hear the bitterness behind it.

Inej isn’t a Grisha, but she is Suli, and she knows well the feeling of persecution. “I understand,” she says softly. “And...thank you.” She could’ve handled it—at least, that’s what she tells herself—but she appreciates the gesture, more than she can properly express.

“It’s nothing,” the girl replies, but the faint pink in her cheeks tells a different story. “I have a lot of experience dealing with men like that. I figured I might as well help you out.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Not that I don’t think you could’ve handled it yourself, but…”

Inej shakes her head in understanding. “No, I get it,” she says. “I’m good with a knife, but I didn’t want to use it unless I felt like I had to.”

The girl’s eyes gleam with interest at that. “Nice. Oh!” she says, looking as though she just remembered something important. “I just realized I never even introduced myself. I’m Nina. You’re Inej, right? Inej Ghafa? I know you from your performances. I’ve seen some videos of you and your family online.”

“Really?” Inej says. For some reason, it still surprises her whenever people tell her that they know her from the internet. She didn’t think her family was that popular.

“Of course,” Nina replies. “You guys are really phenomenal.”

Before Inej can come up with an appropriate response to the compliment, she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket. Pulling it out, she chuckles at the name displayed: Mama. “Speaking of my family,” she says to Nina. “Let’s see if I can even hear her over all this Saints-forsaken noise.”

Nina crosses her fingers in support as Inej answers the phone and puts it up to her ear. “Hello?”

On the other end, she can just faintly hear her mother asking her where she is.

“I’m at the Crow Club, Mama,” she says. “I was looking for Jesper, but he’s not here, so I’m coming back to the room now.”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, her mother wishes her safety on the walk back to the hotel and hangs up.

“Sorry,” she says to Nina, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “I should probably be going. I was planning on leaving soon anyway when that guy came over.”

“That’s okay,” Nina says, hopping off the barstool. “I was thinking of heading out soon, too.”

Inej sets some kruge down on the counter for the bartender, then follows Nina out the door and into the cool night air.

“Hey,” Nina says as they stand outside the club, watching cars go by. “Would you want to—I don’t know—keep in touch?” She blushes as she says it, which doesn’t seem standard for her. “I know we didn’t talk for long, but I’m not from Kerch, so I don’t have many friends here, and you seem like a really cool person. I know you travel a lot, but…” She trails off and shrugs.

There’s still that part of Inej that warns her to exercise caution, that just because Nina helped her once doesn’t mean she’s “safe” yet. Deep down, though, Inej can feel the goodness in her. She saw a stranger in trouble and immediately leapt to her defense, even though it could’ve ended badly, even though she could’ve exposed herself as a Grisha in a potentially hostile environment. The least Inej can do is allow herself to trust her, just a little, just enough.

“That would be nice,” Inej says, pulling her phone back out. “I can give you my phone number, and you can give me yours.”

Nina’s face lights up, and Inej knows that this is the right decision. “Great!”

They exchange phones and plug their names and numbers into each other’s contact lists. When Inej gets her phone back, she sees that Nina’s surname is Zenik. It flows nicely, like a stream unobstructed by rocks or logs: Nina Zenik. Nina Zenik.

“Hmm.” Nina taps her chin thoughtfully. “I was going to offer to walk you back to wherever you’re staying, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m mothering you or think you can’t handle yourself. But it’s also a late night in Ketterdam, and that’s dangerous for anyone, let alone a young woman walking by herself. Me as well as you.”

Inej would be lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a twinge of anxiety walking the streets of Ketterdam alone at night. Staring down at the new number in her contacts, an idea presents itself to her.

“We could talk on the phone as we walk back to our places,” she says. “That way you can make sure that I’m safe, and I can make sure that you’re safe. Then, if something were to happen to one of us, the other one would know.”

A flash of what looks like relief crosses Nina’s face before she quickly covers it up. “Good idea.”

Nina’s apartment is, of course, in the opposite direction of Inej’s hotel, so they go their separate ways until they’re out of each others’ earshot, and then Inej calls Nina.

“Wow, I haven’t heard from you in forever,” Nina says.

Inej laughs. “I know. Such an agonizingly long thirty seconds.”

It takes Inej about fifteen minutes to walk to the hotel, during which she learns that the reason Nina is in Ketterdam is because she’s studying abroad for a semester, and that she’s currently attending Os Alta University to be a translator. She tells Inej funny college stories, and Inej tells her crazy stories about her travels in return. Strangely enough, Nina’s voice actually grounds her rather than distracts her. It keeps her mind in the moment so that she never has a chance to get lost in her own head. She doesn’t usually let her mind drift when she’s out and about in a large city, but with Nina, the odds are even lower. It’s comforting. Her voice is a guiding light.

Nina arrives at her apartment first, but she stays on the line with Inej, who reaches the hotel about five minutes later. Standing outside the front doors, Inej promises to keep in touch with the whirlwind girl who bounced into her life so suddenly less than an hour ago. When they finally hang up, her chest feels light.

[angel-tries-to-write]

Old Love Doesn’t Rust

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ezio Auditore x fem!reader Word count: 2611 Genre: smut and fluff

Inspired by this. @marshmallow--3​ here, as I promised

A/N: Sooo... Well, first of all I have parents who are his age, so it was weird, but I’ve done worse things, so no stress, I’m fine. Second of all, I’m not a fan of age differences, so I made the reader as old as Ezio, I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like that, so it’s a unique and interesting experience. Am I screaming now and am I going to scream for a few days and every time this post will get a note? You can guess.

Also the title is a literal translation of Polish idiom, which I decided suits better than the actual translation, or the actual meaning of this expression.

Constantinople was a beautiful city. Not as much as Florence, but still pretty. Unfortunately, you didn't arrive there for a sightseeing tour, you had to find your husband and help him before that moron would get himself killed. Even as an old man he was still reckless and sometimes straight up stupid. That was why you decided to leave your children with your sister-in-law and sail to Istanbul. You traveled in a simple dress, not your assassin's robes, for safety. Assassins were in trouble way more often than older women, so you decided to stick with your disguise. If you could avoid fighting, you were doing everything to do so.

La Volpe did an amazing job and gave you the exact address of the Turkish Brotherhood headquarters. It allowed you to go there unnoticed, all guards were oblivious to the fact that another Italian master assassin was among them. You were casually walking through the city, pretending you were just a visitor, not bothered by anyone. All that was left was to sneak in to the headquarters, but that never was a problem to you. Once you were inside, all you had to do was to find your man's quarters and wait there.

Unfortunately, not everything went as smoothly as you would like it to. You were noticed by a young assassin novice and vanishing was not an option. Then you had to try to reason her, which you knew could be difficult.

“Who are you? And how did you get here?!” the girl barked. She tried to press her hidden blade to your throat, but you were far more skilled than her and you disarmed her quickly.

“Merhaba (Hello). I am looking for Ezio Auditore” you said in Turkish with a polite smile, returning the weapon. “I do not intend to hurt anyone, I just wish to speak with him.”

“He is in his quarters. He clearly demanded to be interrupted only in emergency” the young assassin explained, taking her weapon with a visible embarrassment. She reminded you a lot of your apprentices in Rome. You missed them sometimes.

“Do not worry. He will understand. Show me the way, please, it will save me a lot of time” you were calm and convincing, many apprentices were telling you that you remined them of their mothers. That was sort of true, since you had given birth to your first child, you've changed. You had became more gentle and careful, but also more ruthless, especially towards the enemies. You would kill every single templar in the whole world, if they ever tried to hurt your children.

The novice was reluctant, but she finally showed you the way. When you opened the door, you saw the love of your life sleeping peacefully. His bare chest was moving in a steady rhythm and you could notice new wounds and bruises marking his skin. You saw the girl biting her lip as she watched the famous Il Mentore. He was old, but still attractive, many times you had heard girls giggling and whispering about him, usually when they thought you were not around. But you were cool with that, sometimes you would even join them for fun. After all, he was a snack.

“Teşekkürler (Thank you). I can do the rest myself” you dismissed the young assassin and closed the door behind you. All that was left was to strip of that dress and sneak into the bed. Luckily, months of having babies helped you two to learn how to move around each other without waking the other one. Soon you were in the bed with your husband and you almost started to cry. You missed him so much it hurt, and though you knew his mission was important, it wasn't helping at all, you just had to see him. Your hand found its way to his body, you just couldn't resist. Ezio stirred, feeling your touch.

“(Your/name)?” he whispered still half asleep.

“Si, amore mio (Yes, my love)?” you purred and kissed him. You were so close you couldn't resist. He kissed you back, but then he realized what was going on, apparently waking up properly. He pulled away, breaking the kiss and sat up.

“(Y/n)! What happened, is something wrong?” the man looked at you, demanding explanation.

“Nothing is wrong, mio caro (my dear). I just had to make sure you are not wrong” you answered, sitting up. The covers slid down, exposing your body for him to watch. “I missed you so bad and I knew you can not be left alone for a long time” you touched one of his almost healed wounds. “So I left our children with Claudia and came here. To help you. I did not say anything, because I knew you would try to stop me. And I am not going to. We will finish this mission together.”

“You should not have come. I left you on purpose, we can not risk our children losing both of us” he said, visibly struggling with thinking of the best solution.

“That is why I am here, love. To make sure they will not lose any of us. We are in this together” you touched his cheek and caressed it lovingly. You could see worry in Ezio's amber eyes and you knew he just wanted you to be safe. But you were not a little child, you were able to take care of yourself. He sighed deeply, not really sure what to do, but finally leaned in and kissed you.

“I missed you a lot” you heard him whisper and you knew he had lost this battle. You smirked and kissed him again, this time deeper and more hungrily. You didn't have to wait for his response.

Ezio tackled you to the bed, ending up on top of you. He let his burning desire show up, letting you know how much he wanted you, even though it was pretty obvious, you could feel he was hard and ready. His rough hands roamed your body, still fit and strong, despite your age and pregnancies. Assassins had to stay shaped to be able to fight. You were also blessed with something you used to consider a curse in your early years: you had always looked younger than you really were; when you were in your twenties, you looked like a teenager, but in your early fifties, you looked incredible. No one would tell you were the same age as your husband. Who currently was worshipping that body of yours with the same passion and love he did for the first time many years ago, when both of you were young and never thought that you would end up together forever. You loved that in him, that despite being intimate with so many women in his life, he loved you and treated like you were the only woman in the entire world.

You moaned quietly, when his fingers slid inside you to do some preparation. It was always amazing how he could turn you into hot, panting and squirming mess just with his skilled hands. You couldn't compete with him, however it was fair, because you were better with your mouth. The mighty Il Mentore was completely at your mercy whenever you decided to get down on him. But right at this moment you were at his mercy and while you didn't mind, you were supposed to regret it soon.

Because suddenly the door burst open and you saw a man storming in. He was definitely Turkish and very handsome with his black hair and blue eyes. Your cheeks turned into a bright, lovely shade of pink. Though you were covered by your husband's body and bedsheets, it didn't change the fact that you were lying completely naked in a presence of a stranger. A very attractive stranger.

“The assassins told me someone is here, we-” he stopped, when he realized what he was seeing. His expression went smug in a moment. “I've heard you were a ladies' man, but I never thought you still have it in you” he laughed, looking at the two of you.

“Molto divertente (Very funny). But it is not what you think. This is my wife, (y/n) Auditore” Ezio introduced you proudly. “(Y/n), meet Yusuf Tazim.”

“Nice to meet you” you said, barely keeping a straight face, when your husband's thumb brushed your clit the exact moment you spoke. He was clearly having too much fun and too little shame, fingering you in front of his new friend. “We are busy here, so would you mind...?” you didn't manage to keep your voice steady. Ezio's hands felt just too good, he was teasing you exactly the way he knew you loved it. Perks of being in a long-term relationship, he knew you a bit too well. You shot him a warning glare, he was fifty-three years old and he behaved like a seventeen-year-old.

“Alright, looks like there is no emergency. Have fun” Yusuf laughed again and left, closing the door. You groaned, embarrassed.

“I do not want to see this man anymore” you stated, knowing fully well you won't be able to look him in the eye soon.

“It is him who did not knock, so he should be ashamed” said your lover, kissing your breast. His beard tickled your sensitive skin. “We are married, we can do whatever we want.”

“Fine” you suddenly rolled you two over to be on top of him. “I can do whatever I want, you said it yourself” you smiled smugly at his surprised expression. Ezio chuckled, watching your actions with a burning desire. He closed his eyes feeling your hand touching him just the way he needed it.

“It has been a long time since we were making love” he purred, bucking his hips into your hand.

“We have some free time now, we can make it up” you said and leaned down to kiss the tip of his member. Your husband gasped sharply and leaned into your touches and kisses. He remained silent though, because he knew so well what would happen if he was quiet for long enough. And you did exactly what he needed you to do, soon he was moaning and writhing under you with his member in your mouth. You teased him mercilessly for a while as a payback for the earlier, licking slowly and sucking gently, when you clearly knew he wanted more. But soon your own arousal became unbearable, you needed him so bad that you quickly released his penis from your mouth and slid onto it with no warning. You both moaned at this unexpected sensation. Your inner walls tightened around his marvelous hardness and you let it sink deep into you, watching with lust and satisfaction how good it felt for your man. His rough but skilled fingers caressed your breasts and you shivered, knowing that he thought you were perfect just the way you were. No matter how did your body change by the time and pregnancies, Ezio always loved it.

When you felt ready to start moving, you placed your palms against his strong, muscled chest for support. You noticed that his wounds and bruises were healing slower. An obvious sign he was old. But you loved him even though his once dark brown hair and beard were silvery-grey. You never thought you would ever think this, but grey hair really suited him. He looked like a living legend he was. And you were so proud of him.

You closed your eyes for and tilted your head back. Every move felt better and better. His strong hands gripped your hips, suddenly one of his palms smacked your buttcheek. It was strong enough for you to yelp, but also to know it wasn't just a playful spank. You half-consciously dug your nails into Ezio's chest, hurting him unintentionally. It happened sometimes, that smack was an universal sign for "stop scratching me this hard". You reduced the pressure and strength, to make sure your scratches on his chest will cause a pleasure, not pain. His grip on your hips strengthened to the point it would leave the marks later. Which was exactly the way you liked it. You didn't care about the marks, there was no one you had to hide them from.

Your movements became faster and rougher, sighs and moans of pleasure were escaping your parted lips. Ezio always felt so good and you absolutely loved to have sex with him. And he knew you so well that he could do what you needed, before you even asked for it. This time was no different, he kissed and touched you just the way you wanted him to. Despite you being the top and technically being in control, he used his skilled hands and lips to push you into your orgasm before he reached his. You collapsed onto him, breathing heavily, both of you were tired but happy that you are together and you share this special, intimate moment, especially considering your long separation.

“Who would think, eh?” Ezio asked after some time, when you both calmed down.

“Hmm?” you hummed, looking at him with curiosity, having no idea what he meant.

“That you would be my first woman and my last” he laughed, kissing your forehead.

“I would never. I was sure you would end up with Cristina” you said a little carelessly and your husband tensed when you mentioned his long lost love. None of you could fully forgive yourself for not saving your friend, even though none of you really could. You were too far to come back to Florence at all and Ezio was too late. Just in time for the last goodbye, which wasn't very comforting, even though you didn't have even this opportunity.

“Her father hated me” he said dryly. You've been talking about it, but he was always getting bitter at the slightest mention of Cristina. Every other of his former lovers were only annoying him.

“Well, he had his reasons. Your reputation was not crystal clear” you joked. The assassin relaxed a little.

“Giusto (Right). But sometimes I wonder what would happen if I stayed” he confessed and you sighed, regretting you even said anything.

“Rodrigo would get the Apple of Eden, you would never become Il Mentore or the Assassin at all, then you would not stop Cesare and the Templars would control the whole Italia” you said reasonably. The truth was that he did a lot as the Assassin and without him, the world could look way more different. You were there to remind him about it.

“Do you always have to be right?”

“Of course I do. Besides, sometimes I think you did not mature at all, then someone has to keep you in line.”

“Me? Il Mentore? You are wounding my old heart, woman” he made an offended expression to which you couldn't help but laugh.

“You are not that old. You can still be useful, after all” you brushed his chest with your fingers and kissed him slowly.

“Not now. I am not that restless kid anymore. I need some time before the next round” he caught your hand before you did anything else.

“Don't worry, amore mio (my love). To me you will always be the same ragazzo (boy) I have met years ago” you chuckled. “Even in another fifty years.”

“Ti amo (I love you)” Ezio said and his amber eyes glowed with the feeling. “And I should have taken you with me right away. It will be faster if we do the job together.”

“Indeed. But let us relax a little more.”

“Bene (Good).”

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xvi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xvi: that colossal wreck

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6k idk man i barely go here 

Rating: M/Mature; lots of blood and stuff but nothing steamy.

Warnings: blood and guts, mentions of self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, Kian is a creepy fucker and he needs to die so he gets his own warning, dog on man violence. Uhhhhh idk how shotguns work so I did my best, don't @ me. Elliot does go full feral in this and I'm not sorry.

Notes: I so hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I'm not gonna say too much about it here, but please know that every comment, like, kudos, whatever—even the tiniest bit of knowledge that y'all enjoyed it just makes me so incredibly happy. It was a bit of slog at some parts but I'm so excited to get it out for you. <3 Special shout-out to @starcrier who provides incredible input and support while I try and glean even a MODICUM of her talent; ilysm!!!

As well, @baeogorath has been such an absolute DARLING, allows me to send them memes at like 3am and scream at them about all of my feelings. And @lilwritingraven, who has been SO supportive and helpful and just all around the biggest sweetheart a gal could ask for, thank you BOTH sm. <3!

The first thing that she recognized was the desperate need to breathe. 

The second was that she was wet, exceptionally wet, her lungs filling with water over and over again, like dying a thousand times without the actual reprieve of death. Two strong hands gripped the front of her shirt, pinning her under the dark surface. Elliot thought, I’ve been here before.

Those hands gripping her hauled her out of the dark, wheezing and coughing up water, and tossed her onto the riverbank like a dead fish. She might as well have been, for what it was worth; when she managed to open her eyes, the world blurred and melted around her the way water swept over a window in a carwash.

“So glad you are awake,” Kian said from in front of her. He stood in the water just past his knees, and as he made his way out and over to her, she blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision. Elliot sucked in the biggest lungful of air she could, and all of the water that had been sitting in her mouth and throat caught and ripped, forcing her to lean and choke it up. “You were sleeping for quite a while, you know, Elliot. Had to make sure you slept all of it off.”

Her name coming out of his mouth felt like a violation—sticky, wet, ruined, a thing she had not allowed him to use, and yet he did anyway. She hadn’t given him permission to know her, and it felt different still than when Ase had used her name; like a weapon being wielded against her.

They gave me so much, she thought desperately a while her body thrummed with pain, searing hot through every nerve-ending as if they’d all been rubbed raw and exposed. They gave me so much of that shit, so much more than Ase ever did. How long was I sleeping it off? Fuck fuck fuck.

Kian’s fingers gripped her throat, slotted just under her jaw, and he pulled ; hauled her straight up with brute strength until her bare feet— when had they taken her shoes?—scrambled against the slippery river bank.

“Her dress fits you well,” he continued admiringly as he held her there. His words dragged her attention back to herself; she wasn’t in her own clothes, in fact, but in a long, dark cotton dress, high-necked and slim fitting. It looked like the same dress that she had first seen Ase in. “In fact, if your hair was just a little darker, and your eyes not so fucking blue, I would think you two could be sisters.”

Dead, the wind whispered. Humidity crept under the fabric, stifling and tenacious. Dead woman in a dead woman’s clothes.

“W-Where—?” Elliot managed out hoarsely. Her own heartbeat, so loud that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hear Kian, thrummed violently in her ears as panic started to really settle into her skeleton. “Where—John, and Boomer—what the f-fuck did you—”

“Now that you’re awake,” Kian continued conversationally, as though she had not spoken at all, “we can start.”

His grip loosened and then released. She barely managed to keep herself upright. The world lurched dangerously beneath her feet, and for a second, she thought she was going to have to throw up; the sensation subsided, and she swept her gaze in a single circle around her.

No John; no Boomer. Only darkly-clothed, silent figures, watching. Each face—some as old as a grandparent, some as young as what she thought could only be ten, and many of them somewhere in between—regarded her with the same kind of glassy-eyed curiosity that came with a circus attraction.

“What the fuck,” Elliot said, her voice hoarse and cracking in distress. “What the fuck did you—where are they—?”

“I’m only going to give you one tip,” Kian said. “Stop trying so hard to talk. You’ll burn through all of your adrenaline, mor.”

He had passed her up the riverbank. The intent of it all was very clear: he anticipated that she would follow, because he had something that she wanted and she was in no state to claw her way through all of them even if she wanted to. The knowledge of this—the understanding that Kian knew exactly what hand he had, and was going to play it—filled her with another sickening wash of dread.

The redhead stopped at the top of the bank and looked at her over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Shivering, Elliot wadded the hem of the dark dress up in one hand and struggled to the bank. Kian let her. He let her catch herself, dirtying her hands and the dress, practically clawing her way up as her heart rate fluctuated earnestly and without pattern in her chest, and when she made it to where he stood she could see the treeline ahead of them. Dark, drenched in nightfall, the pines murmuring every time the night’s chilly breeze rustled the branches.

“They’ll—” Talking caused pain to splinter through her jaw, radiating in spiderwebs up behind her eyes. “His b-brothers will—”

Kian waved a hand. His voice was light when he said, “They are busy.”

Fuck. Despair welled in her chest. Elliot swallowed thickly and said, “What are... What are we...”

He stared at her. She had the distinct sensation of being an ant, trapped under the searing beam of his magnifying glass, raising burns all across her skin. Then, he reached down to the ground, and from a bag, he procured a handful of papers; when he pulled them out, the familiar scent of her home wafted from them.

“You have lovely handwriting.” He scanned the page. “I hope you’ll forgive my snooping through your home. I couldn’t resist. Let’s see here: sounds like our little bunny was struggling with insomnia, feeling alone. Angry with your therapist for saying you were displaying—” Kian lifted a finger to indicate the importance of the word. “— significant signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, including—”

“S—” I want to die I want to die. The pages of her ripped journal sat in his hands, even greater a violation than the sound of his name. “Stop—”

“—intrusive memories, loss of time, irritability and aggressive behavior, self-harm. Is that where those scars are from? Hm, and… 'Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I didn’t let this happen to me'. Is that guilt ?” Kian clicked his tongue. “Do you feel guilty, Elliot? For what that man did to you, those years ago?” And then he paused, glanced back at the paper, and said, “Forgive me. It was one year ago. Not that far gone, I suppose.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out; something gripped her lungs, restricted their movement, until she thought she was going to pass out.

He had been in her home. He had touched her things. He’d stood among the things that were meant to be hers, rifled through them, found her journal and ripped the pages out. She’d taken up journaling about what had happened—not to torture herself with the reality of her situation, but in an effort to understand who she had become, to feel less like a stranger in her own body.

And now he held it in his hands, and there it was: everything that she was, just that small, just that insignificant. The entirety of what she was clutched in the hands of a psychopath.

“I hope she’s fucking suffering.” Elliot ground the words out, and Kian quirked a brow at her inquisitively. She plunged onward, reckless and vicious from her pain, “I hope Ase’s fucking rotting in hell, suffering, and I’m glad they blew her fucking brains in.”

Something dark flickered across Kian’s expression. It may have been a trick of the light; the clouds passed over the moon, blinking the world into darkness for a few minutes before the nighttime wind pushed them forward again. Elliot couldn’t tell if it was real, what she’d seen on his face, but she hoped it was.

But he didn’t say anything about her venom. Instead, he said, “Ase and I used to play a game together.” His tone was light, casual; he dropped the papers back into the bag dismissively, as if they were nothing. “I would give her a three-minute head start. She would run into the woods, and I would try to catch her. She was the perfect prize.”

A strange kind of affection welled in his voice. It was love, Elliot thought with a sickening kind of realization, in his voice—and it only made her more grateful that John had busted through her spine with a shotgun shell, the knowledge that maybe Kian was suffering even a tiny bit as much as she was.

Kian continued, “Now, because of you, she is not here to play the game; you will have to be my prize, Elliot.”

She was going to be sick. She wished that he would have just killed her, rather than this—this waking nightmare, this actual fucking living hell he was going to put her through. Elliot sucked in an unsteady breath, and when Kian gestured at the treeline, she turned her gaze there. It was easier to look at the sturdy line of pines than at his wretched face.

Hot breath fanned across her ear. Kian’s hand came up to the back of her neck, holding, gripping, the way a father would when he prepped his son for a baseball game. She heard the words like a sick comedy in her head: Come on, champ! You’ve got it! But his mouth was right on her ear and he said, “I hid your man out there for you.”

John.

“He’s—not,” she managed out. “Mine.”

Kian huffed out a laugh against her temple. “Then it should be easy for you to hide from me and not worry about finding him.”

Bluff called. Fucking cultist.

He stepped away from her, heading to the half-moon curve of cultists waiting idly by. Silently, Elliot tried to count them; she wanted to know how many she could kill, and how fast, if she got a gun in her hands, but the splitting headache blurring her vision uneasily made it difficult to keep track.

One of them put a shotgun in Kian’s hand. He checked the ammunition idly.

“Start running, Elliot,” he called without looking at her. “Your time starts now.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What took you so long?”

John thought he had to be dreaming. He was certain of it, somewhere in his brain, because Elliot’s voice hummed warmly against the skin of his neck and she pressed up against him like a feline eager for his attention, and that wasn’t her. Was it?

“You’ve been sleeping so long,” she murmured into him, all sleep-warmed skin and soft lines. “Aren’t you going to wake up?”

Yes, he thought, because he wanted to open his eyes, because he wanted to see her like this. He’d worked hard for it. He deserved it, didn’t he? Yes, I’m going to wake up.

“John.” Elliot purred his name, sweet and decadent. She was so warm. “Wake up.”

“Okay,” John said, because he knew that he was ready. But the world stayed dark. He tried again: “Okay, I will.”

Her lips brushed against his pulse. He felt her fingers traced the Sloth scar on his sternum, meticulous, memorizing, slender and warm and affectionate.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” he managed out, “I trust you.”

Like lifting the floodgates, he pushed his eyes open. And it was a push; the effort it took to open his eyes was astronomical, like someone had suddenly stuck him under slow-moving lava that swallowed him up, ate away at the oxygen around him and weighed down his lungs in their attempt to let him breathe.

There was no Elliot. Only the slow, dark pulsing of pine boughs overhead. For just one split second, John felt relief; he was fine. Somewhere, but fine.

And then a piece of the sky lifted and peeled, drifting away. The trees bent and warped around him. He tried to struggle to sit up, fighting the urge to coil up into a tiny ball.

He said, miserably, “What the fuck,” and something at his hip buzzed static. The sound sent jolts of white-hot panic searing through his body.

“Hello?” It was a radio. A thick, dark voice came through. John didn’t pick up. He thought it sounded like Kian.

“Fucker,” he managed out, hauling himself to his feet as the world see-sawed beneath him.

“John Seed.” The voice came again. “I know you can hear me. You should be waking up any minute now.”

John wished he was still asleep. The dream had been better than this. At least in that, Elliot was—

Elliot. The last thing he remembered was her frantic hands trying to undo his seatbelt, and then her warmth getting ripped away from him, and then someone's hands on his shirt and—

“Fuck.” Bad news. Bad. “Fuck fuck fuck. ”

Steadying himself on a boulder, he came around into the clearing, trying to see through the trees. It was no good; the world pulsed and bled around him, smearing like an oil painting, and he realized with a sense of dread pitting in his stomach that they’d drugged him. Hard. The same way they’d drugged Elliot when she’d been crying into the ground like she was going to fly off.

That he knew what was going on did little to abate the irrational panic flashing through him, electrical pulses pounding through his body every chance they got. It made everything too much —the sound of the wind, the murmuring of voices that he thought maybe weren’t there, the feeling of the night on his skin. Yes, he felt it, like a garment of clothing, sitting just on him; he couldn’t tell where he ended and the rest of it began. 

“I let your beast loose,” Kian’s voice crackled, seething with delight. “Gave her a head start, too.”

His fingers itched to grab the radio that had been clipped on his belt. He thought, I shouldn’t let him know I’m awake —

“Hey, fucker,” he snapped, his finger pushing down on the walkie button. His words kept slurring on their way out of his mouth, but he plunged onward anyway. “Come out here, huh? Love to chat face to face.”

Well, he’d never been that good at impulse control, anyway.

“On my way already,” Kian murmured silkily. “See you soon, friend.”

And then it went dead.

John spent what felt like an eternity staring at the face of the walkie talkie before he thought, Hey, that’s my fucking radio. And then: fuck, I can’t fight him right now.

He blinked furiously, trying to refocus his vision as bright colors started to bloom and bleed out from the ground. John kept telling himself that it wasn’t real, that there was no way it was real—and then he understood Elliot’s very real fear that night he’d tried to pull her down the hill. What had she seen then, he wondered? What had she been looking at?

“John?”

He hesitated, because the last time he’d heard Elliot’s voice it had been a dream. John’s base instinct was to stand very still, exceptionally still, which didn’t feel very still at all because he was drugged up through his fucking eyeballs and he wanted to puke.

“John—”

When she broke into the clearing, Elliot’s voice was frantic. Her hair had been let loose around her face and she was wearing a dress and bolting barefoot through the woods. Oh, John thought, a little panicked, oh, I’m dreaming again.

“Fuck,” Elliot said, her voice breaking. Her hands fluttered aimlessly, like she couldn’t figure out a place for them to land. “You don’t have Boomer?”

Maybe not dreaming, after all.

“Sleeping,” John replied, intelligently. “I was—”

Elliot stared at him as she drew closer, her eyes razor-sharp and clear and quick. The sliced right down to the core of him, but what was new, anyway? Stupid deputy, his brain chanted, sluggishly. Stupid, pretty, dumb deputy.

“... drug you?”

John blinked owlishly at her. He wasn’t in very much pain, which was good, but it probably was all going to hit him when the drug wore off and it was harder and harder to keep his attention focused; it was getting to the point where it was like being very drunk , where keeping his eyes open was becoming more and more of a chore.

Elliot snapped her fingers in front of his face. “John, focus.”

“Whose dress?” he managed out, gesturing at her.

Her eyes flickered uneasily. “Dunno.” She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled, high and fast, and John groaned; the sound rattled around in his head, echoing over and over again, splintering behind his eyes.

“Why?” he hissed. “Why are you—”

“Shut up, you fucking baby.” 

Yeah, definitely not a dream.

They stood there in quiet for a moment, waiting; in the distance, John could hear a faint barking.

“He’s out there,” Elliot said, relieved. “They probably have him tied up, if they were able to get their hands on him. John—”

The blonde stopped suddenly, and he turned his gaze back to her inquisitively. She looked very much like she wanted to say something; her lashes flickered uneasily and she swallowed thickly.

“You have to get him, John,” she said finally, which didn’t sound like the thing she wanted to say.

“I’ve got a radio,” he supplied helpfully; on instinct, he reached for her, and she didn’t flinch back when his hand found the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Warm, he thought pleasantly, hazily, the breath spilling out of his lungs like a waterfall. “It’s the one from the ranch. We can—radio Joseph and the others.”

“John, I need you to listen to me,” Elliot began, reaching up to put her hand over his. Her skin was warm, but she shivered—John realized very suddenly that she was soaking wet. “I need you to get Boomer. He’s over there somewhere, close enough to hear a whistle. You can whistle, right? Or just—say his name, he’ll respond to that too.”

“‘M drugged,” he replied. “No good. Besides, he doesn’t like me.” The last half came out petulant. He thought very little of Kian’s voice crackling through the radio, or that he’d said he’d be there soon, or that someone had drugged him and left him in the middle of the forest. All he could think about was the problem being presented to him: Elliot was asking him for something, and he couldn’t give it to her.

“You have to,” she reiterated firmly. “You told me you’d do anything I asked.”

“I did,” John insisted. “Don’t you remember? I f—”

“Shh!”

Elliot grabbed his hand and yanked, hard, hauling him into some thicker brush. The whole gesture of it had his vision spinning like a slot machine.

“John, you have to go,” she whispered furiously. The sound of heavy, leisurely footsteps thudded somewhere a little ways away. “Please. You said. ”

“We can both go,” he whispered back. And then, because she hadn’t recognized his good fortune earlier: “I have a radio.”

“I can’t,” she replied. Her voice broke a little, slipping past a furious hiss and cracking on an emotion that John didn’t want to know. “I can’t go.”

“Why?”

“I have to—” Elliot paused, her gaze flickering tiredly. “John, I have to take a break, I’ve—I’m so tired.”

He paused. “I’ll wait, too.”

“You need to go.”

“I don’t want to. I’ll stay, too, and we’ll go together—”

“No,” she insisted. “Fucking— God you are so annoying—”

John heard, very faintly, the low and threatening click-click of someone pumping a shotgun. He paused, and Elliot did too, and then she pulled him forward by his shirt and kissed him hard. She tasted a little like river water, but mostly like her, and the warmth of her mouth against his made heat bloom all over him like he was green and Spring, again.

“John,” she whispered against his mouth, nearly inaudible, “please. Get Boomer, radio your brothers. We’ll catch up on the other side. I—”

Another couple of footsteps echoed in the stillness of the night. All of the birds and wildlife had fled; they knew there was a big, bad predator out in the evening, and John felt that knowledge twisting something violent and wretched inside of him.

“Do not fucking die,” he hissed at her. “You’ve stayed stubbornly alive for this long. Do not.”

She nodded faintly. “Yes, boss.”

He went to move, but she stopped him, lifting a finger to her mouth; each beat of his heart rumbled violently in his ears, and he thought he might pass out if he didn’t get moving fucking soon; each second spent crouching still and silent in the brush was swaying him viciously back and forth, trying to get him to face plant into the ground.

Elliot, back against the tree, let go of his shirt. She mouthed, Go, and then darted out, quick and fast and taking with her all of the vibrant sound and warmth in the world.

John's legs lifted him to a standing position. It felt like operating heavy machinery; every movement ground through his skeleton laboriously. But he was going; gripping the radio, trying his hardest to sprint, when he heard the sound of a shotgun shell pelting the earth in one sharp, gritty blow.

And then a familiar voice: “Where are you, little rabbit?”

Please.

Everything in him was telling him to turn around. Screaming at him—but he knew that was exactly what Kian wanted, too. To have them both there, in the same place, to make one of them watch the other die.

So, he didn’t.

He kept going, and when he got far enough away to be convinced that Kian was preoccupied with Elliot, he stopped and looked around. The night was eerily still and pulsed dimly around him. He glanced down at his feet; the grass reached up and around his shoes, coiling around him, trying to hold him down.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hurriedly stepping forward. “Find dog. Radio Joseph. Boomer?”

He kept his voice low as he crept through the woods, fiddling clumsily with the radio as he moved. When he found a channel whose numbers looked vaguely familiar—and familiar was a stretch, considering that accessing just about anything in his brain was like feeling someone’s face in the dark and guessing who it was—he pressed down on the talk button.

“Joseph? Jacob? Somebody?” He let off the talk button. “Boomer?”

No barking. Was Elliot drugged too? Had they been hallucinating the dog barking? 

John had just begun to give up on the idea of doing anything other than wander aimlessly in the dark woods when he made it to the edge of the treeline and saw the dog. Unfortunately, the beast was tied up to a wooden stake, growling low and threatening the two men as they walked idly around him and to the van, busying themselves; soft music played from the car. They seemed to be waiting patiently for Kian to finish whatever it was he was doing. Killing Elliot?

Fuck, he thought hastily. Gotta hurry.

He watched as one of the men set his gun down on the bed of the open van, stretching and chatting conversationally with his companion. When he wandered back over to Boomer and said, “Here, doggy,” the Heeler lunged viciously and set off barking, teeth snapping. He sighed.

“Stupid dog.”

They turned back toward the road, and John made his way closer to Boomer. If he could get that lead unclipped—if he could do it without them noticing…

“Fucking shithole,” one of the men said, backs turned to him as they lit a cigarette that got passed between them. “Can’t wait to purge this place and get out.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, do you know…”

As their conversation drifted, so did John’s attention. He slipped out from the cover of the underbrush; instantly, Boomer’s eyes were on him. His hackles went up, and John lifted his hands, keeping them open.

In hindsight, he’d probably feel stupid thinking about this moment. The dog wasn’t holding him hostage. But it felt a little like he was, anyway.

“Hey,” he whispered, creeping closer. “Gonna let you off, beastie.”

Boomer eyed him, eyes flattened back against his head.

“You wanna get ‘em?” he continued, glancing over at the men as he reached for Boomer’s makeshift collar, clipped onto the lead. He didn’t know what kinds of gestures or phrases Elliot used to get the dog to do what she wanted. He only knew that Boomer did , sometimes without her saying, and so he said again, more urgently, “You wanna get ‘em, beast?”

The urgency of his tone seemed to spark something in Boomer. His ears pricked forward. John’s fingers found the lead clipped around his collar, pulled on the little metal clasp, and let it drop to the ground.

Boomer watched him, expectantly.

“Well, go on,” he whispered, gesturing. That seemed to be all that was needed; the cattle dog darted forward, teeth sinking into one man’s leg and yanking hard enough to unbalance him and pull him to the ground; the dog's head thrashed violently, ripping out of him guttural snarls.

John blinked, and thought, holy shit, is this what he’s been like this whole time?

There wasn’t a lot of time to spend thinking about it, because the other man was whirling angrily, shouting something, and then his eyes landed on John.

They both looked at the gun sitting on the tailgate of the van at the same time.

“Fuck,” John hissed, lunging forward and grabbing wildly; he wasn’t entirely sure that he even stayed upright, the strange back-and-forth pull in his head having only abated a little, but he reached for the gun and snatched his hand back, fumbling with the safety.

The whole thing felt like an eternity —comedically so. While the sounds of Boomer mauling the unarmed cultist echoed in his ears, John’s fingers clumsily switched the safety off and he fired recklessly; the bullet barely grazed the cultist’s calf, and as the man reached for him, John pulled the trigger again. Once, twice, three times, the bullets planted themselves in the man’s chest, jerking him back with each impact.

A heavy thud echoed in the night as the man slumped to the ground. Boomer had handily dispatched of the other one; his mouth was red and wet, and when John struggled to his feet, he saw that the man’s throat had been ripped open.

“Nice,” he breathed. Boomer regarded him warily, unimpressed with the compliment. He quickly shuffled the safety back on and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, pushing the tailgate of the van up. When the dog whined, low and uncertain, he glanced back at him and sighed.

He pulled the tailgate back down. “Load up. We’re gonna get her back.”

Boomer leapt up into the back of the van, nails sliding on the hard plastic. It took John about five minutes of rifling through the pockets of the two men to find the car keys. While he wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to drive, he had just planted a couple of bullets in a man, so he supposed he'd be fine.

As he climbed into the driver’s side, he shut the door and settled in and carefully, meticulously slid the key into the ignition. The van purred to life as though John’s last week hadn’t been an entire fucking series of absolute fuckhead jokes, and he let out a breath.

The glint of something blue and reflective in the cupholder between the two front seats caught his eye. He glanced down, blinking.

“Hey,” he said, reaching down. “My sunglasses.” Tucking them into his shirt, he checked the rearview mirror and gently, gently pushed the car into drive.

"Alright, beastie," John muttered. "Let's get this ended, huh?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The concussive blast of bullet meeting wood rang in her ears; chips of bark and the guts of the tree showered her, the shot echoing just above her head, and she thought, fuck, I just want to be dead already. She was so tired; moving was a luxury that was not afforded to her anymore, each gesture as she struggled to her feet tipped and fettered by the bruises and wounds that littered her body.

Finding John had taken about fifteen minutes, fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds of which had been spent agonizing about where to look first. She didn’t recognize where they were, or know her way around, and she was barefoot and soaking wet and shivering and she just kept thinking about how badly she wanted to lay down.

We’ll go together. Fuck, John was so stupid. She might have actually had a moment to breathe if he’d just listened to her and did as she said. But that wasn’t ever how these things went, was it?

A calloused hand closed around her wrist and yanked her to her feet. For a second, in the blurring, thrumming night, between the whispering voices in the wind and the lurching of the great beast hunting her down, Elliot saw the dark fabric of a button-up shirt and thought, it’s John, it’s John; he came back me and now we’re going to get out.

“I win,” Kian purred.

His voice bled through her skull, stretching and warping as the agony crashed over her in a scalding wave. Kian’s fingers wound iron-like around her wrist, holding her there, and his other hand came up to grip her chin; playfully, he shook her head back and forth, like he was trying to jostle her out of deep sleep.

“Don’t look so sad. I’m not going to kill you, Elliot.” He regarded her with something like amusement, eyes glittering dark and obsidian in what little moonlight had managed to seep through the tree cover. “Do you know what mor means? It means mother. We’re going to keep you for It, and when it’s time, we’ll slice you open. You will make It so happy.”

She gripped his wrist as hard as she could and tried to push his hand from her face. Kian had discarded the shotgun in favor of having both hands to grab her, and as he gripped her face—the wide, calloused crux of his hand covering her mouth while his fingers reached the dip of her jaw—she thought, Something has to be done.

Elliot had promised Joey. Even if I have to fucking die for it. She had promised, and that meant it had to be done.

Muddling through the panic, Elliot squirmed under his hand, opened her mouth, and bit down as hard as she could. The disgusting taste of hot copper flooded her mouth instantly; the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger wasn’t meant to take teeth ripping and tearing, and she was ripping and tearing; even with the limited mobility she had, she wrenched her head anyway she could, intent on taking some piece of Kian with her.

A wretched kind of sound came out of him. He tried to yank his hand back off of her face, and she bit down harder, anywhere her teeth could catch and grip. If she could hit bone, she thought; if she could sink her teeth right into the marrow of him, maybe then she would have felt like she got some repayment for what he’d done.

Kian yanked his hand free, gripping his wrist as crimson streamed down his palm and arm. His eyes were wild and dark; for a split second they stood there, staring at each other, two beasts nursing wounds and waiting for the other to make a move.

Elliot grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him forward, slamming her face into his. It would have been nearly impossible to bodily force Kian’s to move had he not been clutching his wounded hand, and for that she was grateful—grateful, she would tell herself, around the ricocheting stars of pain blurring behind her eyes, using the hardest part of her skull to bash into Kian’s nose and mouth.

And then she ran.

The gun was around, somewhere, dusted in pine needles and nightfall; like a needle in a haystack. She heard someone spitting behind her, and she thought, I hope I broke your fucking nose, you piece of shit, just before she ducked into a thick bustle of brush and behind a rock.

Around her, the world blurred and fuzzed black. She tried to furiously blink it away, but every second spent standing still meant that her body was suddenly remembering how tired and overworked it was, how much she had done, how much she had suffered. We could stop now, the tired little girl inside of her said. We should. We should stop now.

But Kian had said it himself; he wasn’t planning on killing her. She wouldn’t get rest even if she gave up. He might have changed his mind after she’d bit through his hand and headbutted him, but—

That wasn’t a chance she could take. Not for herself, and not for Joey, and not for the girl she had been that night in her apartment, either.

Heavy footfalls echoed just a few feet away from her. Her mouth was still flooded with the taste of Kian’s blood. As she made her way to the other side of the boulder she’d taken refuge behind and peeked out, she thought, I’d do it again, given the chance. I’d rip him open with my teeth if I got the opportunity. Give me the fucking chance.

Moonlight spilled through the trees and into the clearing they had just been in as the wind pushed clouds out of the way. The glint of dark metal, threatening, caught her eye; the shotgun was there, with hopefully at least one shell in it—one that she could put straight through Kian’s ugly fucking face.

And he was nowhere to be seen, either. Even as she leaned further out, trying to see around the boulder, she couldn’t see him crashing through the underbrush; she couldn’t hear him, either. Just the sound of the wind, pine needles skittering across the ground, a twig snap and—

A second too late, Elliot’s pain-addled brain realized the breaking branch was just behind her. Fingers fisted into the hair at the back of her skull and dragged, hauling her out of the underbrush and back into the clearing, tossing her like a ragdoll. All of the already-battered ribs shrieked on impact, and she wheezed out a breath that had blood and spit flickering across the forest floor.

Tired. She was so tired. So tired, and the world blurred and tried to fizz and pop out of existence around her, a sticky-wet hand forced her eyes forward.

Blood streamed down Kian’s face from their earlier collision. When he grinned at her, his teeth were stained pink, red seeping in the gaps.

“Hello, little rabbit,” he ground out, pushing away her scrambling hands and pinning the left down. “You put up quite a fight.”

Elliot tried to search in her spatial memory—what was left standing of it, anyway—for where she had seen the gun. But it was getting harder to breathe, and to think, and Kian’s fingers dug into her jaw and cheeks. An awful, animalistic noise came out of her at the pressure—it was a whimper, but unlike anything she’d ever heard out of herself, unlike anything she’d known she was capable of making.

“I wonder—”

His voice came out in a low murmur, spit-slicked and venomous, his nose grazing the slope of her cheekbone.

“—will you feel guilty about this, too? When I drag you back kicking and screaming, and make you watch as I cut each of those fucking hillbillies open? I know some of them got out. I'll find them, too.”

It had to be close, she reasoned through the haze in her brain; the gun had to be nearby. She’d just been looking at it. Her body was trying to give up; Kian’s fingers pinning her wrist down and bruising her neck, his words hissed out against her skin, were all tripping that strange little trigger in her brain that finally wanted to give up fighting and do something else.

Quit.

“ Mor,” Kian purred against her skin. “Mother, you’ll be so good for It, I know you will.”

Joey, clutching her tight. “I never doubted you’d be able to get me out.”

“It likes it best like this, you know.”

John, mouth so close to her ear. “I said, it’s a good thing you’re more devil than woman.”

Each second that ticked by, filled with Kian’s voice, the fingers of her one free hand inched. S he felt them close around cool metal.

“It likes the ones that fight back.”

She gripped the gun hard, and swung.

It collided with a heavy-handed thump against the side of Kian’s face, and he jerked back. He still straddled her, but with room between them now, Elliot could lurch forward, bowling as much of her weight into his midsection as she could to push him off of her and send him reeling back into the hard surface of the boulder.

Her fingers worked fast as she struggled to her feet. Pure adrenaline, pure muscle memory, as she flicked the safety off, cocked the shotgun, and pulled the trigger.

It clicked.

Empty.

Kian barked out a laugh wet with blood. There was a wound on his temple that was bleeding, now, and as he struggled to sit up more she could see him wince—the collision with the boulder hadn’t done him any good. Elliot pulled the trigger again, and again, and each time it clicked she found herself getting angrier and angrier. Filling with poison, up to her brim, like someone had just uncorked it.

“It’s empty, mother,” Kian rumbled at her. “You think I brought any more ammo than those two shells?” He spat blood out of his mouth and cocked his head, regarding her with dark eyes. “I told you, I’m not going to kill you.”

I’m not, like he still thought he had won. Pure, vibrating fury radiated through her body. This was supposed to be her victory; this was supposed to be her revenge for Joey. For her life. For her.

It would be. It’s mine, she thought viciously, this fucking moment is mine.

“Yeah, well,” Elliot spit out, digging her fingers into the metal, “can't say the same.”

The weight of the gun was not unlike a bat; so when she took the barrel of the gun and swung it like one, it felt familiar. Just like when she was ten, playing rec-league softball, only this time the bat was an empty pump-action shotgun and the ball was Kian’s head.

When the dull impact send vibrations rattling up her arm, and Kian keeled to the side, wheezing and biting out something venomous in Swedish, Elliot gripped the shotgun harder and swung again.

And again.

And again.

Each collision brought it closer to the satisfying, wet crunch of blood and bone on the redhead’s face. Elliot couldn’t have counted how many times she swung if someone asked her—or pinpointed the exact moment that Kian stopped moving, stopped breathing.

She could only think about the way he’d planted his words right against her skin, gripped her, I win.

Do you know what I get to do with things that belong to me?

“Nothing,” she ground out, when her arms burned and ached and her vision fuzzed with exhaustion. “You don't get to do anything.”

“Deputy?”

Blood spray littered her face. She was sure that her teeth were stained red, too. Each breath heaved exhaustively through her body, rattling, and when she turned her head to the source of the voice, she saw John and Jacob standing at the edge of the clearing; lights blurred through the trees, the sound of trucks and voices echoing in the still night air.

Boomer darted out from behind them, immediately pressed to her legs. She held the shotgun loosely in her hand.

“El,” John said, softer than Jacob had, “It’s me.”

Her gaze flickered back to the brutalized corpse in front of her. She thought, faintly, that there was no way her life was going to be normal after this again, but that was okay. She’d promised Joey.

If I have to die for it, I will.

She’d done it. And maybe she had died for it.

Jacob had taken a few steps toward her as the thought echoed in her head. Slowly, like she was a stray dog snarling over a cow bone. When John moved to follow, she saw Jacob put his hand out and stop him.

“Put the gun down,” Jacob said, his voice still and calm. Elliot blinked tiredly.

She wanted to do it. She wanted to let go of it. But that girl that she had been—that girl who had cried under the blanket fort, who had thought, I don’t know how I let him do that to me, the girl who had sat on the floor of her bedroom in Hope County and blinked through furious tears as she struggled to understand herself—no longer wept; that girl was furious, and so Elliot gripped the gun tighter.

As though it made it any less of a weapon, she said, “It’s empty.”

Jacob looked at Kian’s face, bashed-in. Obliterated. “I know.”

Boomer whined at her feet, nosing her empty hand quietly and gazing up at her with big, brown eyes. Something strange washed over her, an emotion that made her lip tremble and her eyes burn. The Heeler nuzzled her hand again, and she sucked in a shaking breath as finally— finally, finally —the tears stung down her cheeks.

She dropped the shotgun. John said her name, and Jacob dropped his arm, and she realized that it was relief she was feeling now.

Only vaguely aware of Jacob kicking the shotgun away from her, the world blurred as Elliot felt John’s hands cradling her face. Each place where his fingers traced the bruises from Kian, that pulse of relief ran stronger through her body until it was overstimulating, overwhelming. When John kissed her, it was almost frantic—she could taste the blood in her own mouth, his fingers tangling into her hair as he kissed her again and again, until her lungs ached with the need to breathe. But each kiss brought her somewhere else. It took her somewhere that she didn't have to think about anything except John in that single moment.

“Hey,” John said, their noses brushing. His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, his voice still slurring a little. “I have you. Right here with me, El, don’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah,” she managed out. Her voice wobbled, and she sucked in a sharp, stuttering breath. “John—”

His thumbs swept across her cheekbones, smearing more blood than they wiped away tears, and as the sound of voices echoed dimly around them, she lifted her hands and gripped his wrists. Through the coppery tang in the air, she could smell his cologne; her lashes fluttered and John pressed their foreheads together.

“It’s okay.” John murmured the words, tugging her against him, into his chest. “It’s all over now.”

No, she thought as his arms circled her, pulling her closer, Boomer barking at anyone who wandered near.

It’s not even close.

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence - Chapter 11

Word Count - 5.4K

Authors Note - It's been a while! 👋🏻 About 4 months I think 😬 If there are any Bad Influence fans actually left out there, I'm so sorry & I love you. I had a really fuckin shitty last few months of 2019 & because of that, I kinda stopped doing the stuff I enjoy, writing this fanfic & using this blog being one of them.

Then I tried to come back before I was ready 😂 I wrote this chapter out about 2 months ago, but never bothered to post it bcos I didn't care enough about it. But I've recently returned to it, rewrote it & remembered why I fuckin love writing this fanfic. So I'm super excited to post this chapter & I hope you don't all hate it after how long it's been 😂 It's a bit rough bcos I'm getting back into it & I'm kinda rusty!

I love you guys for baring with me, I can't wait to get back into writing this fic for you 🖤

Warnings - Um, the f word is used in like every sentence oops, some implied smut when Nikki is remembering (choking trigger warning), I guess 'violence' but not really violence???, a whole lot of angst & a teeny bit of fluff at the end

Tags - @cruecifymesixx @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberrirolls @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @versnatasha @zoenicolesetser @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99 @unknownoblivion @mgkobsessed @antheasnow @rockaholi @nassauartist @sparxx27

(there's one bit where Nikki is glaring across the bar at a character & this gif is spot on)

*Nikkis POV*

I drummed my fingers to the sound of a guitar as I watched Mick do his thing through the glass of the recording booth, his fingers working magic as he played the riff to Looks That Kill.

Fuck, that weird little guy could play.

“Nikki, this song is gonna fucking kill!” Tommy yelled enthusiastically, beating his drumsticks on the arm of the battered couch his was lounging on.

I smiled weakly back at him, my nerves keeping me from matching his excitement. “I hope so,” I mumbled. I look around the studio, basking in the enormity of where we were right now. Mötley was recording their second album & my nerves were shot. It had to be perfect. It had to do well.

“Stop stressing man, everyone’s gonna fucking freak over this album, I just know it!” He replied, smiling encouragingly, his usual Tommy level of positivity feeling sickeningly sweet, but still, I nodded at him gratefully. “So we hitting up The Whisky or what tonight boys?” He continued, addressing Vince as well as me, who was pouting on the couch next to him.

I chuckled without amusement, shaking my head. “Fuck no, not a chance I’m going in there yet.”

Tommy scowled at me. “Sixx, come on dude, you cant avoid the place forever. Plus, she might not even be working tonight!”

“I’m not risking it! I’m not gonna be able to enjoy the night if she’s there, judging my every fucking move, you know how she is.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“So you’ve still not talked to her since..” Tommy trailed off, awkwardly. But Vince happily picked up from where he’d left off.

“Since you lead her on, fucked her & then blew her off?” He snapped arrogantly, instantly causing my jaw to tense.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Vinny. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, you mean you don't wanna hear about what a dick you were? What a surprise.” The sarcasm thick in his voice.

I slammed my hand down on the recording table & stood up sharply. “The fuck is your problem, man?” I snarled, his attitude & the mounting stress from the album mixing together to create a dangerous cocktail of anger & belligerence.

“My problem?” He questioned, standing up to meet my stare. “My problem is you Sixx. Beths a good fucking girl, what you did was real messed up, I should fucking floor you again for how you treated her. You owe the chick an apology at the goddamn least.” He spat, his anger in Beths defence honourable, but fucking irritating.

I chuckled arrogantly at his misplaced valiance. “Give it up the knight in shining armour act Vinny, I didn’t see you rushing to commit to her when she was getting your dick wet.”

I saw the danger flash in his eyes as he took a warning step towards me. “I didn’t fuck her & leave either.” He hissed, the venom in his voice palpable.

“Aw, did I upset your girlfriend?” I joked patronisingly, very aware that I was pushing it too far, but yet I couldn’t help myself, Vince acting all high & mighty was really starting to piss me off.

Vinces eyes narrowed sharply & I saw his hands ball into fists at his side. “Like I said, she’s a good girl. She didn’t deserve that.” He said through his teeth, the strain to keep calm evident in his voice.

I smirked at him amused, looking him up & down. “Whatcha gonna do Vince? Hit me again? Defend her honour? She’s a chick dude & a stuck up one at that. And she ditched your ass if you remember, you should be thanking me.” I laughed, shrugging.

“You know what Sixx, you’re an asshole. You know as well as I do that Beth isn’t another fucking groupie to this band. Nah, I didn’t wanna date her, but I like her- We all like her.” He corrected himself quickly.

“Vinny’s right man, I’m not taking sides, but Beths cool & I kinda do like having her around!” Tommy piped up, nodding.

“Fuck off T-Bone, you only want her around because you know as soon as she goes, so does your uptight piece of ass.” I shot at him, my frustration with the pair of them growing at a dangerous rate.

“Dude c’mon, there’s no need..”

I cut Tommy off viciously. “What the fuck has happened to this band?!” I shouted, shoving Vince out of my face. “Since when do we give this much of a fuck about chicks?! Look at where we are?!” I gestured around the recording studio. Mick had stopped playing & had casually lit a cigarette as he watched us bickering through the sound-proof glass. “This is what’s important. Now I’m going for a fucking smoke, this conversation is done & when I come back in we’re gonna record a fucking album, got it?!”

I barged out of the studio, flicked open my lighter & sparked up my cigarette, leaning back against the wall as I took in a shaky drag, my anger still surface level. I exhaled & closed my eyes, feeling the May sun warm my face & start to melt my mood away.

What was everyone’s fuckin’ obsession with this girl?!

Yeah she was cool, but she’s still a chick. And chicks = trouble.

I let my mind wander back to the look she gave me as she lay beneath me, my hand around her throat as she came undone & smirked to myself as I lifted the cigarette back to my smug lips. She was so worth the chase.

But Christ, I’m supposed to feel bad because I don’t want all that cutesy shit afterwards? No. Beth knew me, we’d had enough arguments about the kinda guy I am, she did this to herself. Not my fault that she thought she meant anything more to me than any one of those other girls. She was a fuck. A good fuck. But a fuck nonetheless.

I took another drag as the image of Beth sat in her bed with that stung look on her face snuck its way involuntarily into my mind. I could see those hurt tears & hear her bitter words ordering me to leave. I couldn’t help the pang of guilt in my stomach that accompanied the image.

She’s a fuckin’ chick, Nikki. Chicks = trouble, I recited to myself, rubbing my face roughly with my hands, almost in hope that I could scrub away the memory of her pained face. Get over it man, it’s done.

I sharply exhaled the last of my smoke before throwing it aggressively to the floor, somehow more frustrated than I was before.

Time to go record a fuckin’ album.

*Later*

*Beths POV*

I smoothed out the material of the tiny black dress I was wearing as I pouted my lips at my reflection in the mirror, appreciating the sight of myself all dolled up & ready to forget all about Nikki fucking Sixx.

I flashed an all too familiar looking smirk at myself before I spun around of my sky high heels & strutted out of the ladies bathroom & back over to Sophia who was waiting at the bar, two drinks in hand. She winked at me as I got closer, holding out one of the glasses for me to take.

“Girl, you look unreal! If we weren’t here trying to pull for you, I’d take you home right now,” she laughed, nudging me & winking again.

I let out a laugh as I took a swipe at her arm, “I am not here trying to pull!” I insisted, not even managing to fool myself. It’d been a little over a week since I went from the all time high of fucking Nikki to the crashing low of realising I meant nothing to him in a matter of minutes & I’d laid around feeling sorry for myself ever since. Well, not tonight. I was gonna find a guy & I was gonna remind myself what a goddamn catch I am.

“Oh Beth, there’s a reason you’re wearing that dress tonight & girl, it ain’t for the coverage,” she giggled as I took another playful swipe. “Hey, there’s no judgements here! I’d want a good lay after the emotional rollercoaster that has been Nikki Sixx!”

I raised my eyebrows at her as she quickly mimed locking her lips. “Sorry, sorry, we don’t mention that name, my bad.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, I’m over it,” I lied. “But, if a cute guy wants to buy me a drink & maybe show me a good time, I’m not gonna say no.” I shrugged as we both burst into a fit of giggles, before I took a long sip of the very strong cocktail.

“Well that sounds like my queue.” Came a smooth voice from behind me. I turned to face the handsome stranger who was stood leaning casually against the bar, eyebrow cocked as his eyes scanned up & down my body, drinking in the sight of me. “You have excellent timing.” I blushed, appreciating his good looks right back. He was classically good looking, with blonde hair & a chiselled jaw, dressed smart in a shirt that hugged his toned physique & muscular arms just enough to spark a little intrigue as to what lay underneath. He was the exact opposite to Nikki in every physical way. Where Nikki was unruly & unkept, this guy was clean shaven & well groomed. He wore no leather or studs & his smile was friendly & genuine, not smug & he wasn’t dripping in arrogance.

“I’m Daniel.” He introduced himself, holding out a hand for me to shake. I looked into his electric blue eyes & blushed once again.

“Beth, it’s nice to meet you.” I replied as smoothly as I could.

“& I’m Sophia, but I guess no-one asked,” she piped up mockingly, winking at me. “Now Dan, unless you’ve got a cute, single friend for me, I’m gonna get outta your way & go for a dance.” Soph smirked, grabbing her drinking & flouncing off towards the dance floor, blowing us a kiss as she did.

We both let out a laugh. “She seems great,” Daniel said as I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “She mentioned something about an emotion rollercoaster though? I hope I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes?” He queried.

I swallowed my drink before letting out a little laugh. “Not at all, there are no toes to be stepping on, don’t worry.”

“Well good, I’m glad. I’m surprised though, a gorgeous girl like you doesn’t have a man. You’re sure there’s no-one, because you seem way too good to be true!” He flirted, as I laughed

“Oh you’re smooth.” I teased, “but no, there’s absolutely no-one.” I answered, pushing any & all thoughts & feelings I might have towards Nikki Sixx out of my mind.

*Little later*

“Wow, so you’re a doctor?” I asked, impressed.

Daniel laughed, shaking his head. “I wish! I’m a med student currently, but that’s the hope one day.”

“What made you wanna get into medicine then?”

He paused for a second, his warm smile faltering for a brief moment & I sensed his hesitation to answer. “I, um, lost my dad when I was younger. Spent a lot of time in hospitals with him when he got sick. I remember watching all these doctors around me taking care of people, helping, curing.. They seemed like superheroes to me back then. After we lost my dad, I knew I wanted to help people, be one of those people that kids could look up to in the same way I did, yanno?”

I nodded, smiling at his compassion & genuineness.

“Sorry, bit heavy for a first meet, I know.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Not at all!” I replied, “I asked the question, you just answered it honestly, I appreciate that.”

As Daniel carried on talking about his studies, I couldn’t help but admire him. THIS was the kinda guy I was supposed to end up with. Smart, hot as hell, a brilliant career ahead of him, goals, aspirations.. He was exactly the kinda man I could take home to my father. Daniel was everything I should want & he was actually interested in me.

And yet, I still felt that unwanted & yet infuriatingly all-to-familiar flame ignite the second I heard his voice drift over from the bar.

“Jack & coke please darlin’.”

Nikkis voice hit me like a slap in the face & rush desire all at once & I immediately froze, my body unsure how to react to my contrasting emotions.

“Are you ok?” Daniel asked, reaching out & touching my arm, concern written across his face. I flinched as his touch, still lost somewhere in Nikkis voice, & snatched my arm away instinctively.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Started Daniel, his concern look now laced with panic.

“N-no, its fine honestly, its not you, its just..” I drifted off, briefly glancing behind me, trying to pin a location on the voice. My eyes caught sight of the four of them standing at the bar, waiting on their drinks. Nikki was dressed in his usual leather trousers, torn at the knees, & combat boots & a torn up shirt. His hair almost appeared messier than usual & he had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He couldn’t have been more different from the sharp, handsome man sat opposite me.

Daniel followed my line of sight & spotted the literal motley crew. Nikki was already hitting on the bar maid, distracting her whilst Tommy & Vince reached over & stole a bottle from behind the bar; all whilst Mick stood by, watching disapprovingly & swigging from his trademark flask.

“You know them?” Daniel asked hesitantly.

“Nope.” I replied bluntly, snapping back to reality & turning back to him. “I fancy getting out of here though, you wanna head back to mine, continue the drinking there?”

Daniel looked a little taken a back at the upfront offer as I stood up & downed the last of my drink, but I was fairly certain he wouldn’t refuse. I didn’t care either way at this point, I just needed out of here.

“Um sure-“

“Great, I’ll go find Sophia..”

“She’s over there, talking to those guys you apparently don’t know.” Dan stated, his tone now flat & a little judgemental as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Look, Daniel, I don’t wanna get into it, but its better we just leave.” I said, hoping to avoid any questions, but his face was growing more unimpressed by the second. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you Dan, ok? But I can’t be here right now, so I gotta go. I’d, um, I’d like you to join me.. If you want to, of course. I mean, you don’t have to..” I mumbled, suddenly very aware & embarrassed by how he must be viewing me in that moment.

I saw his eyes narrow at my discomfort &, I’m assuming against his better judgement, he nodded & stood up to join me. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too & maybe you could fill me in on why you’re running away over that drink at yours?” He asked, a little suspicious but friendly. I nodded, giving him a small smile.

We started towards the exit when I felt a pair of hands snake around my waist & lift me excitedly into the air. I squealed in shock & suprise as Tommy span me around before placing me back on my feet.

“Beth! I cant believe you guys are here, what’re the chances? Soph said you came here to avoid us & we came here because Sixx wanted to avoid you! How fuckin’ funny is that?” He said, roaring with laughter, his hand resting on his stomach as he struggled to regain control on his amusement.

“Tommy.” I said sternly, shooting him a look that told him to shut the hell up. He quickly stood up straight, coughing a little to hide his laughter, before glancing over towards Daniel.

“Hey, who’s this? I’m Tommy dude, how ya doing?” He said, offering out his hand enthusiastically.

“Daniel, I’m good man, how’re you?” He answered, accepting the handshake hesitantly.

“I’m good? Hey, you wanna come meet the rest of the guys?” Tommy offered enthusiastically, without a second thought as to why that might not be such a good idea.

“Actually T-Bone, we’re just heading out.” I replied sharply, giving him another warning look.

“Ok, ok,” he laughed, holding his hands up in defeat as he got the hint. “It was nice to meet you man!” Tommy smiled at Dan, who nodded awkwardly back to him before T-Bone practically bounced back over to the bar.

“Don’t know them huh?” Daniel asked, his voice oozing with sarcasm suddenly, making me cringe.

“I’m sorry, they’re just.. A lot, ok?” I tried to explain, frustrated, mainly with myself.

“What’s the deal with this one?” Asked Dan, gesturing towards Nikki, who was leaning against the bar, sipping on his Jack & coke, his eyes fixed coldly on he two of us.

“That’s the, um.. Emotional rollercoaster.” I answered sheepishly, coughing to distract from my amounting discomfort, whilst simultaneously avoiding the eyes of both Nikki & Dan.

“Right.. Well, your rollercoaster is on his way over here.”

Fuck.

I glanced up to see Nikki, in all his arrogance, strolling towards us, his usual smirk fixed in place.

“I’m so sorry for whatever he says.” I quickly whispered to Dan, before Nikki came to a stop in front of us. I watched his eyes scan up & down Daniel, obvious sizing him up without an ounce of subtlety, before he turned his attention to me.

“Leaving without introducing us, Lizzy?” He drawled, the pretension thick in his voice.

“Yes Nikki, I am. So if you’d like to move-“

He cut me off, his focus back on Daniel. “I’m Nikki Sixx,” he stated, without the courtesy of a handshake.

“Daniel,” Dan replied, flatly, seemingly glad there was no extended hand to shake.

“And how do you know the lovely Lizzy here, Dan?” Nikki asked, his smirk never once faltering.

“We just met tonight, but we’re justing heading back to hers, if you don’t mind.” Dan replied simply, taking my hand.

“Oh but you see, I do mind.” Nikki stated bluntly, his smile as wide as it was dark as he side stepped back in front of Dan who had tried to manoeuvre round him. “Lizzy here is what we like to call a groupie & we,” he gestured towards the rest of the band behind him, “don’t particularly like sharing.”

“Oh fuck you, Sixx.” I scoffed, my face growing hot with a mix of anger & embarrassment. I turned to look at Dan, cringing at his raised eyebrow & gave him an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being an asshole, I’m not a groupie.”

“Really?!” Nikki replied, dragging out the word dramatically as his shit eating grin somehow managed to grow wider. “Because I remember fucking you about a week ago & my boy Vince over there,” he pointed to at the very pissed off looking lead singer, “swears he remembers fucking you not long before that? Or are with both mistaken? I mean, there are a lot of you girls, you do all kinda look the same.. Feel the same too.” He chuckled darkly, shooting me a sly look. I glared at him with an expression so deadly that dared him to carry on. He rose to the challenge. “I tell you what though buddy,” Nikki continued, leaning into Dan so he was speaking into his ear, but just loud enough for me to catch what he was saying, “if you’re heading back to hers you’re in for a treat. She’s got the mouth of a motherfuckin’ Angel.” He finished, glancing over at me & winking. I was prepared to fly at him in a blind rage, fists balled, ready to wipe that smug smile off of his face permanently, when Dan spoke up, in a voice so peaceful & gentle, that it made his words seem somehow harsher.

“You are an arrogant piece of shit. I’ve been sat with this girl for the last hour & I spend a minute in your presence & it’s immediately clear to me that she’s way too good for you. But I’m sure she’ll realise that in her own time.” Daniel turned back to me, his expression stoney & irritated, but I could swear there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “If you ever get off of this rollercoaster doll, you know where you can find me.” He said, letting go of my hand as he stepped around the unmoving Nikki.

“Daniel, wait..” I caught him by the arm & quickly stepped in his path, stopping him.

“Beth, you seem like a great girl & I don’t think I’ve ever hit it off so quickly with someone like I have with you. But it’s obvious you have something with that guy & I’m not really interested in competing with him for your attention.”

I nodded slowly, knowing his words were fair. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. And I mean it, if you decide to get off the rollercoaster.. I can probably offer you a slightly calmer ride. A carousel maybe?” Dan winked, laughing as I let out a light giggle. His blue eyes focused on mine, sending a surge of electricity through my body that momentarily extinguished the flame that Nikki somehow always managed to light. I lifted my lips & placed them softly on Daniels for the briefest second, before pulling away.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

His eyes lingered on my lips for a second, silently asking for more, before he came back to reality & gave me a genuine smile. “It was nice to meet you Beth. I do hope I get to see you again”, he nodded, before kissing my cheek & heading for the door.

I stood still for a second, gathering my thoughts & regaining my composure, before walking towards the bar where the Crüe & Sophia were stood, trying to act as if they hadn’t been watching.

I had barely made it over to them before Nikki was straight in there with his sly comments, immediately trying to get under my skin.

“Aw was Prince Charming not happy to hear the Princess was actually a band slu-“

Nikki didn’t get the chance to finish his insult. He was silenced by the remainder of my drink soaking him as I threw it at him furiously, dousing his arrogance with my cocktail.

“That is for thinking you have any right to chase away a good guy just because your petty, selfish ass is jealous.” I spat. “And this..”

The loud crack of my hand slapping him sharply across the face echoed around the bar, followed by the whooping of Vince & Tommy. I even caught a glimpse of Mick smirking.

Nikki recoiled, his hand flying to his crimson cheek, shock & fury on his face. But his rage couldn’t match mine. I grabbed his face roughly, my hand cupping his chin & cheeks, forcing him to meet my wrathful glare.

“That is for fucking me & leaving me like I was one of your whores.” I seethed, my voice quiet & dangerous.

Nikkis face went from white hot anger to an ice cold stare in an instant as he straightened up, pushing me off of him as he did. He took a step towards me, but I didn’t move an inch. I was way too fucking angry to back down.

“Listen Princess, you’re fucking lucky I’m not a bad guy-“ he began, but my sharp laugh rang loud, cutting him off.

“Not a bad guy?! Nikki, are you really that delusional?! You’ve done nothing but purposely fuck with my head from the day I met you. You’ve insulted me, dragged me down to your level, used me, screwed my chances with two different guys & for what?!” I screamed, tears threatening to form. “No, you know what?! You're fucking lucky Sixx, I’m not gonna do this here. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

I span around, ready to make my dramatic exit, when I came face to face with a very happy looking band manager, Doc. He clearly couldn’t care less about our drama as he marched over to us like nothing was happening.

“Bartender, a round of shots for these boys & their girlfriends. We need to celebrate;”

“The fuck are you talking about Doc?” Snapped Nikki, his eyes still fixed on me.

“Boys, you’re in!" He announced, unable to hide his obvious pleased-with-himself smirk "I've just been told that Mötley Crüe have been offered a last minute slot to play alongside the likes of Judas Priest, Scorpions, Van Halen & The Prince of fucking Darkness, Ozzy fucking Osbourne at the US Festival on Memorial Day weekend!” Doc exclaimed, laughing as the band began shouting & whooping, looking disbelieved & excited as hell. Choruses of “are you serious?!” & “you’re fucking kidding!” we’re passed between them as Doc reassured them that they were on their way up.

In that moment, watching these guys I’d grown to love over the last couple of years get the break they worked so hard for, I couldn’t be mad. I watched as Tommy jumped on Nikkis back, Vince hugged Doc & Mick silently smirked to himself. They deserved this.

Doc handed me & Sophia a shot as we congratulated them all, although I couldn’t quite bring myself to share my enthusiasm with Nikki. But he was too busy to notice as he held up his shot glass in a toast.

“To us! We’ve got an old man, a kid drummer, a cover band singer & a fucking run away. Win it all or loose it all, we’re Mötley fucking Crue!” He yelled, his excitement & energy almost infectious, as much as I wanted to hate him.

“To you guys!” Sophia cheered, laughing as we all downed our shots.

“Let’s get another round in, we’re celebrating! And pour one for yourself gorgeous.” Vince called to the barmaid who was more than happy to oblige, blushing as he winked at her, turning on the Vince Neil charm that would assure she’d be going home with him at the end of the night. I remember that well, I chuckled to myself.

The atmosphere of the night had changed so dramatically from what it was 10 minutes previously, everyone’s anger & awkwardness forgotten in the wake of such elating news. I looked around all the happy faces; Vince flirting with the bar maid, Tommy all over a giggling Sophia, Mick & Doc eagerly discussing set lists & felt an overwhelming sense of misplacement. After all that had happened, I just couldn’t bring myself to match their enthusiasm, not tonight.

I noticed Nikki's gaze focused on me, his face betraying his now obvious guilt as he watched me stand alone, uncomfortable & upset. His sudden success had clearly snapped him out of his petty, jealous mood.

Uninterested in an apology from him, I let my eyes continue to scan the room, looking anywhere but at him, when Sophia glanced over, catching my eye & gestured for me to join in. I forced my best smile as I walked over to her & Tommy.

“Take another shot Reynolds!” Tommy shouted, pushing a shot glass of mysterious liquid at me. I laughed politely as I shook my head.

“Thanks, but no thanks T-Bone. I think I’m actually gonna shoot yanno, I’m getting pretty tired.” I lied.

“Beth, don’t leave, please?” Tommy pleaded, his face suddenly serious, moving away from Soph & towards me.

“T-Bone, it’s not a big deal honestly, you guys enjoy your celebrations!”

“Just talk to him. I know the fucker doesn’t deserve it, Beth, I know. But he cares for you more than you think, I promise. We all do.” He added, placing his hand in mine & giving it a squeeze as he flashed me a goofy half smile.

I gave him a half smile & squeezed his hand back. “I know Tommy & I love you guys, I really do. But I can’t be around him, its.. it’s too hard.” I muttered back, so quietly it was almost inaudible above the music playing in the bar. But Tommy caught it.

“You care for him too, don’t you?” He asked, just as quietly.

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. “God knows why T-Bone, he’s made it clear he doesn’t care about me. I’m just another girl he fucked.” I sniffed, furiously wiping away my tears before anyone noticed.

“Beth, Sixx is a dick. I’ve watched him fuck over chick after chick who was convinced they’d tame him & he tosses them without a second thought. But not you. I don’t know what the fuck goes on in Nikkis head, but that fucker cares about you. So please, don’t ditch us all just because you think he doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry Tom, I know he’s your friend & you wanna see the best in him, but you’re wrong. Nikki Sixx only cares about himself.” I replied, straightening my posture & regaining my composure. I pulled Tommy into a tight hug & congratulated him again. “I’ll see ya around T-Bone, I’m sure.” I winked, gesturing towards Sophia.

He laughed, “I’ll look after her.”

I blew him a kiss before heading towards the door, not wanting to disturb anyone else’s night with my drama.

“Lizzy, wait up.” I heard Nikkis voice call. I closed my eyes briefly, choosing whether to stop or keep going. I chose the latter & walked swiftly out of the door, pretending I hadn’t heard.

But my ignorance was in vain & he was right behind me, following suit out of the bar.

“Nikki please, just go back-“

My sentence was cut short by his lips crashing onto mine. I froze, feeling anger, lust & passion sweep through my body as my brain tried to compute the correct emotional response. I pushed him away sharply, deciding anger overwhelmed any feelings I had towards him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Are you asking for another slap?!”

“Lizzy, I’m sorry ok?” He blurted out, clearly uncomfortable with apologies.

“You’re sorry?! Oh, well that makes everything ok then.” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.

“I know ok, I fucked up. I’ve been a dick to you & I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know how to do this shit.” He mumbled, running his hands through his tangled hair.

“Do what, Sixx?” My frustration mounting with his half-assed apology.

“I don’t fucking do.. This.” He gestured between the two of us, struggling to find his words.

I sighed with exasperation. “What is this Nikki? Is this an apology or what, because honestly there isn’t much you can say right now, just let me go home.” I finished, turning to leave, but he caught hold of my hand, pulling me into him. He placed his hand gently under my chin, bringing my face up to his.

“I don’t do this, ok? I don’t do feelings or relationships, fuck, I won’t even sleep with a girl twice.” He laughed, before clearing his throat when he saw my unamused expression. “Lizzy, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got pissed as hell when I saw you with that fucking pretty boy, I snapped.. I don't know, I guess I was kinda jealous.. I do care about you.”

I scoffed. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I do, Lizzy. But listening to you telling me why I’m a bad guy, all the shit I’ve done to you, you’re right. And I’m sorry. Just, please don’t leave. Come celebrate with us, we all want you here. I want you here.. You’ve been with us from the start, it wouldn’t feel the same without you. You mean a lot to me... Um, to us. You mean a lot to us.” He corrected.

I looked into his green eyes & saw the sincerity, noted the lack of arrogance in his voice & the absence of his usual smug smile. I so badly wanted to give into him. I wanted to taste his kiss again, melt against him like I always do. I wanted to take his hand & go back inside, enjoy the night with the band, drink, have fun & fall into bed with him when the night was over.

But I’d fell for Nikkis sweeter side before, I knew how the night would end. He’d leave afterwards & I’d be hurt all over again. And I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

“No Nikki, I’m sorry.”

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

A Happy New Year

Summary: While awkwardly navigating a friend’s New Year’s party, you and John cross paths for the first time.  Pairing: John Krasinski x Reader Word Count: 1895 Warnings: Celebratory/social drinking. 

A/N: Okay, here it. My first posted John Krasinski fic! I’ve been a fan of this guy for longer than I realized, but the crisis recently took over. As I mentioned before, I’m known in the other fandoms for writing fluffy, cliche fics ... and this is just that. I hope you all enjoy it - I have a part two planned, if you do! Please reblog if you feel so inclined, as I would love for as many people to read this as possible :) 

Tags: @professorkrasinski​ @booklover1814​ (Thanks for agreeing to be tagged!)

The house was already bustling with people by the time you arrived — late, as usual. You hung your coat in the closet in the entryway and smoothed out your comfy sweater. The party had been deemed casual, but you knew your friend and her other friends well enough to know that a t-shirt and a ponytail just weren’t going to do the trick. You still had opted for a nice pair of jeans and boots, but you made sure your hair and makeup were done to impress. 

You searched through the house for the hostess, and finally found her pouring drinks in the kitchen. You snuck one from the row of glass tumblers and winked at her. 

“You’re here!” she squealed, setting down the bottle of Southern Comfort and coming around the island to hug you tightly. “I’m so happy to see you, I forgive you for snagging that drink.”

You giggled and returned the embrace with one arm. “Happy New Year to you, too. There’s so many people here!”

She finished pouring the drinks then put them on a tray. She nodded with her head for you to follow her, so you did. 

“It’s the first time Chris and I are hosting a holiday together, and I’m having multiple anxiety attacks,” she sighed, handing drinks off as she went. “He’s got a million people on the guest list. I had you and like a handful of other people, most of which decided to stay in Jersey instead of coming to Boston.”

You raised your brow. “So I know nobody here but you? Ash …”

She gripped your arm tight. “Please, Y/N. I’m begging you. Stick with me through this — I’m freaking out over here!”

Though you weren’t crazy about the crowd or not knowing anyone, Ashley was your best friend. For that reason only, you knocked back the majority of the contents in the glass you had swiped not that long ago and told her you were going to need some beer. 

“Not a problem. I’ll get you a beer, and we’ll just stick together for the rest of the night.”

That, of course, lasted all of about five minutes. You were tossing the cap from your beer bottle into the trash and when you turned around, Ashley was off with Chris’s arm around her. She was smiling and laughing; you just chuckled to yourself. She’d come find you later. Hopefully. 

You sipped at your beer and meandered through the party, recognizing a few people here and there from around the city, but no one that you knew well enough to stop and talk to. So, you continued to meander. 

When you had first moved to Boston, you used to walk by this house and wonder who lived here, what the inside was like. Then, Ashley had started dating Chris and your questions had all been answered. She still lived in New Jersey, but she came down as often as she could to see him. Sometimes, when you got bored, you’d call Chris and see if he was bored and the two of you would hang out. It was only because of those visits that you recognized a few of his friends here and there. 

Teasing yourself about being a Disney character, you found the library and quietly began to browse the titles that lined the shelves. Old and new, tattered and worn or in mint condition. Ashley had told you about this room before, but you hadn’t believed the amazingness of it until now. 

Your fingers floated over the spines of the hardback books until a particular title caught your eyes. Still holding the longneck in one hand, you pulled the book from the shelf and skimmed over the first few pages. 

“If you haven’t read that book, you should. It’s one of my favorites.”

The voice in the doorway called your attention away from the page you were reading. Quickly, you shut the book and placed it back in its proper spot on the shelf. 

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be in here, but I don’t really know anyone so I was wandering the house. I live here and before Ashley started dating Chris, and I used to wonder what it was like on the inside, and then she told me about the library — that’s a run-on sentence. And I’m rambling.”

“You are,” the tall, vaguely familiar stranger nodded, but with a charmed laugh to accompany his comment. “And it was. I didn’t mean to spook you by the way. I noticed the light on and wanted away from the crowd myself. I’m John, by the way.”

He stepped into the room, extending his hand to shake yours. You wiped your hand on your jeans before slipping your hand firmly into his. His sudden presence had made you nervous, and in reaction, your palms had become slightly clammy. That was the last thing you wanted to pass on to this handsome guy. Then, you realized. 

“John,” you repeated, “John Krasinski. You’re the guy from that show …”

“The Office,” he offered with another amused smile. “Been a while since someone didn’t recognize me right off. Refreshing.”

You winced. “I’m sorry, I’m really horrible about watching new shows. I stick with Grey’s Anatomy and older shows, more or less.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Ashley burst into the room. “Y/N! There you are! We’re starting beer pong. Let’s go! Oh, John, you can be Chris’s partner!”

She took you by the hand and dragged you away. You weren’t entirely sure that John was in tow until he appeared beside Chris on the other side of the beer pong table.

After a short tournament of three games, you and Ashley were declared the winners. There was no way you’d be getting back home in this state, but Ashley assured you that she had reserved a guest room for you. Since that was the case, you grabbed another bottle of beer and wandered back to the library. 

This time, you were only along for a few seconds before John showed up again. He greeted you by name and clinked his glass tumbler with your beer bottle. 

“Congrats on the win. Thank goodness Ashley said your name when she came to get you earlier. I wasn’t sure you’d give it to me otherwise.”

“I would have, eventually,” you assured. “I was nervous. Maybe. Tipsy, for sure.”

John nodded. “Can I show you something?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you considered him carefully. You didn’t know him other than the fact that he was Chris’s friend. You were, however, just tipsy enough to slip your hand into his, leave your beer where it was, and allow him to lead you to the front closet. He waited patiently while you bundled up, then took you by the hand again and led you out to the sidewalk. 

A few blocks down, John tugged your hand to the left, across the calm street. Snow was starting to fall and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the hour. That didn’t stop you from excitedly following him through his loft apartment, out to the balcony. He left you there for a moment to admire the view, but came back with a big, flannel blanket. 

“That’s Fenway Park!” you exclaimed. “You can see this from your balcony? Like you just wake up every day and see the Green Monster?”

“I do. Ashley mentioned before how much you love the Red Sox.” John confirmed, wrapping one end of the blanket around you, and the other around himself. He pulled you in front of him so that he could pull both side of the blanket tight around the two of you — not an easy feat considering the height difference. “Are you warm enough? Can you see over the stadium okay?”

You nodded, leaning back into him. A part of you couldn’t believe this was happening; not one bit of it. Here you were, in this crazy romantic setting on New Year’s Eve, with a guy so far out of your league, it was like you were playing coach pitch and he was in the majors. The other part of you, though, the part with inhibitions lowered thanks to the beers, decided to drink it all in and let it happen. 

At the stroke of midnight, fireworks exploded over Fenway Park. You drew in a deep breath and watched in wonder as the colors lit up the sky. Even through the snow, the fireworks continued. 

When they finally ended, John opened the slider so you could get inside and get warm. He shook the snow from the blanket, then hurried inside himself. You took a deep breath and shrugged. 

“What now?”

“Now,” John replied, almost as though he was deciding even as he spoke, “I make you your favorite breakfast, and you tell me more about yourself.”

“Breakfast? At midnight?”

John nodded. “It’ll head off the hangover. I’ll tell you more about me. Maybe we’ll even watch The Office.”

You giggled and unzipped your coat. You laid it carefully over the arm of the chair, and slipped your shoes off, too. “French toast. And bacon. Please.”

John didn’t just smile this time; he grinned. 

While John cooked, you sipped at a tasty cup of coffee and told him about your life: where you had grown up, what made you decide to move to Boston, and how strongly you felt that you should have been in this city your whole life. 

“It is a pretty great place,” John agreed. “And what do you do for a living?”

You filled him in on that information while he plated a few pieces of French toast and bacon for each of you. When he sat across from you, you clapped excitedly; you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until food was an option. 

“Your turn,” you encouraged with a cheek full of French toast. “Tell me how you got to this point in your life.”

The next hour or so, the two of you filled your bellies and filled each other in on your basic life information. After you helped John with the dishes, the two of you sat on the couch. You were getting sleepy, so he offered the same blanket from the balcony, took a seat next to you, and covered both of you with the blanket. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and John put an arm around you. His hand landed at your hip. You were warm and cozy and fighting sleep in a matter of minutes. 

“I wanna see you again, but my life gets pretty crazy these days,” John told you quietly. 

You adjusted so your cheek was against his chest and nodded. “It’s okay. I’m having a great night, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be in any sort of limelight.”

John kissed the top of your head. “Guess we’ll just have to be secret lovers then.”

You responded with a sleepy chuckle. The kiss on your head had left you wanting more, so you tilted your chin up to him. “Happy New Year, John.”

“Happy New Year, Y/N.” 

Your lips met John’s halfway. That first contact was so soft and sweet, you were still feeling the butterflies when you took a cab home several hours later. 

[nicknellie]

I’m just trying to reply to this through out the day so it’s all times lol (and then of course when I was going to send this it’s sadly didnt)

Thanks for linking the post, I think you brought up quite a few good points!!!

Honestly I thought you meant that both Julie and Flynn had matching jumpers however this works so much better. (Also yes Luke and Reggie would get this just because they can)

Just in case you don’t know what among us is when I go on my tangent here is the basics but basically there are 10 players in total and either 1, 2 or three are imposter (I’m choosing two here) whoever isn’t imposter just tries to complete tasks and figure out who the imposter is without dying

Box stuff

1. Yes, honestly the only time Luke’s room is clean is due to Alex because he is the mom friend. (And or Reggie because it could be that when Reggie is stressed he cleans but that also works for Alex)

Also that’s what I was thinking, Emily and Mitch just gave up. Definitely when he passed they just couldn’t change anything in his room because it was the one comfort that they had. That even though Luke isn’t here anymore, his room that he lived in was still there and sometimes they could pretend that he’s still there

3. They always bring him recipes to try out because Alex has magic with cooking and even if he has no clue what is going on it usually always taste good. (May not look good but it does taste good) Also love the detail of Reggie just forgetting about the recipes, he just has so much that he forgets some.

Board games and Jam stuff

1. Yes, they all have that one game that they can’t do. Monopoly is banned just because they are way too competitive and Alex has thrown drumsticks at Luke before.

I love the detail of the boys just guessing wrong just to annoy Bobby, they totally would too. In Cluedo, Reggie always thinks that it’s Alex, every single time.

(Among us tangent, really wish I can blame this on chaotic energy but no.

So Alex is pink, because

Luke is the colour white

Reggie is lime

Julie is red

Willie is cyan

And Flynn is purple

Alex and Willie are on the same team immediately (they just follow each other and keep each other safe) and Alex is a good imposter however Luke will only call him out for no reason at all when he is an imposter one time that they play together.

To give more reasoning they probably play together two times in total with 10 games each I don’t know, but the second time around Luke is salty and somehow knows when Alex is imposter even when he doesn’t seem suspicious at all.

Julie and Willie are the best imposter duo, alongside Alex and Luke. Reggie is not a good imposter and the first to die in the game is usually Julie (or Luke).

Wait yes, Alex can’t do life.

Oh Julie gets so mad at him however secretly she’s amused (Alex and Reggie are just having the time of their lives because they can tease both Luke and Julie also Flynn will definitely tease Julie as well)

Alex being the bank dealer is everything, and Reggie just forcing Luke to pay him is everything. (Not sure if this is a game rule but I’ve played a few times were you can give someone a building that has the cost/whatever you owe, so maybe they do that)

Honestly monopoly was banned before hand with Bobby but one day Julie brought it up and they just couldn’t tell her (Luke flipped a table... a table)

Also randomly Flynn and Willie are there just for chaos reasoning.

2. Yes lol

Number stuff

2. Alex and Willie just chilling and then Reggie ruining everything is perfect. (Also Willie is crying laughing during this whole thing, even more so when the hoodie rips and Alex just looks hurt and shocked at the same time towards Reggie)

So I watched the first episode, and I was mistaken. Maybe Arther changes as the show goes on but this is not how I thought the story went 😂

I was like, they changed the story but it still had to have the idea of Merlin helping Arther out with getting the sword out of the stone and in the shows there is a witch. I can’t tell if it’s because they are adding details to the story or if I just don’t know it. But yes just like with Merlin calling Arthur an idiot, my lord is total Alex energy. Definitely could see him doing that is real life at some point. Yes, Luke does still die from the hotdog

5. Same here!! Also the ones that you’ve mentioned I think I have read as well, have to love that for us (also the fact that everyone agree not to ship Alex with Julie and just have them be supportive wingpeople)

6. I love that for us. Also I love the sign idea, (Bobby somehow makes a sign to tell Willie that Alex is okay) it mostly comes because Alex is so distracted by Willie and the hair flip to notice that Willie is asking if he is alright or not. Wait I was still thinking about waterparks, moving to what you were actually talking about. I’m just keeping that in because

But yes, Bobby gets a sign from the boys and everything is better. (The sign is, don’t steal the songs, big no). Also I love how you say that they still go back to Julie but they make a quick pit stop

8. Yes, also their strengths complimented each other’s so without them there Bobby feels lost. So many props towards Reggie, I have no clue what is happening with that game at all times.

10. Aww happy Reggie with technology (also the fact that he doesn’t have to develop photos anymore makes him want to cry happy tears) ‘you don’t understand Julie, green photos. I’m not joking green photos, you don’t know my pain’

I know exactly what you are talking about, can’t remember the name at all though.

Reggie is just upset, but Alex and Bobby are rolling they find it that funny. Also Luke says something along the lines of, ‘it looked fine, I don’t see you blaming Alex and Bobby. This is not fair 🥺’

Wait yes, they always get recipes from bakeries. Also if a food is expensive/they don’t have enough for it but they want to try it sometime they (Reggie) will try to get a recipe just for Alex to make it.

Aw, Alex giving Bobby his own little box so that he always has something to eat.

11. And little did they know that Reggie actually met the Queen

13. Same here lol, but I’m not very good at sketching. However you should definitely do them if you want to! I’m in full support.

14. Yes exactly

16. Precisely, if it was anyone else Alex could say no however sue to the fact that it’s Luke and Reggie, he can’t

17. Oh my goodness you made my idea better. (Honestly I can’t type so I have no clue how I worded it) however I had meant that Reggie asks Caleb for baby pictures of Willie but your idea works so much better. (Also Willie isn’t really that creeped by the fact that Reggie has his baby pictures just accepts it)

Wait, I love that you said Caleb doesn’t question it. As if people ask Caleb for baby pictures all the time, or at least it’s normal (maybe normal Reggie behavior 🤷‍♀️)

But a Caleb scrapbook I love that idea. Also yes, Reggie just has baby pictures of everyone. Some random stranger that he saw once, yes, his great aunts ex husbands son’s daughter yes (oh my goodness what is that sentence). But basically everyone, even the queen

Yes, just them as babies in hot dog suits. Reggie also has a hat on for I don’t know why reasons. (Imagine if there’s a baby Willie with some kind of hot dog themed thing though)

19. Yes, Luke also smashes snow on peoples heads as well. And Alex is usually the one who stuffs it down the persons back (it is what Willie does as well, and they always have an alliance)

20. Exactly, Owen is such a great actor (also mentioning Booboo Stewart for same reasons)

And Owen does play Alex so perfectly, like Kenny could not have chosen a better actor for Alex even if he tried.

Honestly if the boys had hated Willie I would cry, A because no Willie and Alex and B that’s exactly what they are like and although it’s everything if no point A then sad. I mean, Caleb played Willie just as much as he played the boys. (I just want Caleb to be the good guy because but he does stuff like this whyyy)

Luke isn’t happy that Julie is mad at him however he’s happy that he was able to connect with Flynn

Anything that gets us Unsaid Emily is worth it in my books

21. Honestly I have no clue it’s just been something that I’ve been thinking about. Honestly both of those theories works so well and I feel like it will be so hilarious if Alex freaks over breaking in entering however he’s legitimately done something worse. Also yes, Emily and Mitch talking to Alex to make sure they are both alright is adorable

That would be hilarious, just send this to him one day 😂 😂

24. Yes, also just it either means Flynn and Carrie moments or Flynn singing which are both needed.

Yes only for one song, she can only manage one band and she doesn’t want to be a part of it (in that way). Yes it is a sad song with just them.

25. Imagine Alex and Carrie having a conversation and their banter just being everything

Yes and Luke is like the cool uncle who you go too when you want someone casual but I’m not going to call you out just yet to your father kind of person

26. Wait, yes that’s how all arguments used to get settled in the 90s and if Luke was in the wrong then he would usually write music (I’m basic apparently I can’t think of something else)

Same, especially if we get another hair flip from Willie.

28. This works perfectly! That’s exactly what happened and then ‘now or never’ came to be

32. I didn’t even think of the shop assistant giving him stickers I was just thinking of some random fan discovering Alex at 3 AM however I love that so much more.

Yes, he definitely would take extreme care of it and keep it in its pristine condition

35. Legitimately Ray just has so many kids, imagine if he tried to adopt Reggie, Luke, and Alex though that would be funny. And emotional at the same time

For the purpose of them looking amazing we are just going to disregard the fact that they can’t be seen on photo (maybe it’s a special camera that Willie has from the club i don’t know) (hmm or maybe if a ghost takes the picture then other ghosts can be seen?)

Yes I love that as well, the orb does look good for some reason lol

37. Who doesn’t live for heart eyes Alex (& Willie in my opinion). Yes, and these are not casual rules that you can break there’s legitimately a list and everything. Also Reggie isn’t allowed to wash it after shrinking it and changing the colour one time

39. Yes the dream father daughter team. They are so close (also just want to mention Ray in general not only with Julie but with Carlos as well, because you can tell that’s he trying so hard and is doing so well)

The categories are so funny also I love how we just have this so organized now

I’m sorry this took me so long to answer! I kept telling myself I would then getting sidetracked and now I’ve decided one o’clock in the morning is the best time to start writing this. Bare with me, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a lot of mistakes here 😂😭

BOX STUFF

1. Wait I didn’t think about that but I love it so much! Whenever the guys hang out at Luke’s before he runs away, Alex will walk into his room, tut at him or mutter something under his breath, and tidy while still managing to have a conversation with the guys - occasionally he’ll interrupt his own sentence to tell Luke off for the state of his room, like, “Oh yeah, I heard about that, it was — Luke, I swear if you don’t start picking up your dirty socks I’m going to shove them down your throat while you sleep — really cool actually, did you hear about...”. Also he has been known to just drag the vacuum cleaner in because he knows where Emily keeps it and he’ll hoover over the guys’ conversation.

And I can totally see Reggie stress cleaning? Bc usually he’s stressed or upset because of his parents fighting, right? So it must seem to him that everything is very disorderly and out of place, so to make himself feel better he spends hours putting things in the right place so everything is nice and tidy. It’s just an added bonus that the place gets cleaner. Also if the studio was messy the day before and suddenly clean when the band arrives in the morning then they know Reggie had a tough night.

Oh god that hurts. That hurts so freaking much. Just particularly the “pretending he is still there” part - I’m now imagining Emily or Mitch going up to Luke’s room alone, slowly sitting down on the bed or at the desk because they don’t even want to disturb the dust that has settled there. And they’ll look around the room and they’ll remember their son and all the things he used to do - write music, play games, hang out with his friends (who they remember and miss as well), and yes, argue with his parents. And they talk to him, sometimes in the way Ray and Julie do to Rose, as if Luke can hear them and is listening, but sometimes it’s as if he’s stood right in front of them. Tears in her eyes, Emily will whisper “How did your band rehearsal go?” because although it’s too late to start caring and to be okay with it, it comforts her to pretend it means something. She’ll imagine Luke’s reply, hear his voice tell her they made a killer new song, and she’ll smile as she replies, “That’s lovely. Well done, Luke. I’m so proud of you.”

3. Omg hang on I love that, like Alex being amazing at cooking but also completely clueless. He mutters to himself, “What the fuck does ‘fold in the flour’ mean?” then take a wild guess and somehow it tastes great. But like you said, it doesn’t exactly look very appetising.

BOARD GAMES AND JAM

1. Abwjskdlw Alex throwing drumsticks at Luke like a javelin or a dart or something, and Luke is frantically trying to dodge them but Alex has a seemingly endless supply of drumsticks, he just keeps pulling them out of nowhere and they’ve been there for half an hour of non-stop drumstick throwing and avoiding before he finally runs out.

YES and Reggie is totally serious about it too. Alex sneezes and Reggie is immediately like “that’s a tell!!! You sneezed last round too!!! I’m onto you, Mercer, I know it was you.” And Alex almost readies his drumsticks to throw at Reggie as well.

AMONG US

Oh this. This is glorious. I love this entire thing omg.

The detail of Luke saying Alex was imposter when he wasn’t sus just because he was annoyed is brilliant and would 100% happen. Also Julie-and-Willie and Alex-and-Luke being the best imposter duos is everything. Willie won’t kill Alex no matter what, but Julie is ruthless and Luke is usually first on her list.

Also I want to add what accessories they like because that’s fun! Although I haven’t played in months and can’t remember all of them, but this is what immediately springs to mind.

Luke - toilet paper hat

Julie - flower pot hat

Willie - top hat

Alex - the adorable little leaf thing

Reggie - pumpkin head hat thing

Flynn - no accessory, but she does have a tiny version of her character trailing behind her, you know the ones I mean right? She has a tiny child Among Us player with her at all times idk

Oh god, Monopoly is so much more hectic when Willie and Flynn join in. Willie somehow manages to collect so much money that he may as well just be the banker (definitely nothing to do with Alex being biased and “accidentally” slipping him a little extra cash). Flynn gets the best cards (that’s a thing in monopoly right? There’s a stack of cards in the middle you can choose from? Idk) and they basically win her the game. Luke gets angry, that’s when he flips the table again and Julie locks monopoly away forever

Same with Uno. Reggie doesn’t speak to Luke for a week after the first and only time they play Uno.

NUMBERS

2. I love that, like Willie trying to be a supportive boyfriend as Alex watches his hoodie get torn to pieces but just not being able to contain his laughter, practically lying in Alex’s lap because he’s laughing so much. It only gets worse as Alex cradles his ripped hoodie in his hands like it’s a dead animal or something. Like Willie is trying to be nice but the whole situation is freaking ridiculous and it doesn’t work.

Ahahaha I’m so glad you watched it! It does change a bit as the story goes on, I’m sure you’ll like it (I’d always be willing to hear your thoughts on it if you keep watching as well, if you want!!)

And like right??? Alex has complete and utter Merlin energy like “No, there must be another Arthur because this one’s an idiot” may as well be Alex saying “No, there must be another Sunset Curve because these ones are idiots”

6. Lmfao Alex just totally stops functioning after the hair flip and Bobby has to step in, love that. He very calmly takes over the situation, or has a sign, or just like freaking slaps the back of Alex’s head to bring him back to reality.

Right??? They just very quickly say “hey Bobby it’s us don’t steal our music” and then appear in the garage. Kinda tempted to write it now actually

8. Okay, seeing as it’s half one, I don’t want to go off on a whole tangent about “their strengths compliment each other” but I will definitely do this when I’m more awake because it’s a goddamn goldmine

10. Yesss 🥺🥺 like at first he would be a little sad that he didn’t get the experience of getting them developed but then when he remembered how annoying it was he’d be so happy. And omg can you imagine he reaction to how instant it is?? And how high definition?? My boy would stay there staring at these photos for hours on end, wide-eyed, mouth open, awestruck

Oh I love that! Reggie claims it’s so that Alex can enjoy himself and cook something new, which it partly is, but mainly it’s because Reggie just wants more food

11. I now wanna say that Reggie has met a ton of celebrities but nobody believes him because it’s Reggie (and he literally said how adults never believed him as a kid). He’s met the queen, the band Queen, Billy Joel (just because I watched a Billy Joel concert tonight - side note, Luke absolutely adores Billy Joel and listens to him constantly), whoever the president was when the guys were alive, and plenty more

17. Omg lmfao that makes sense 😂😂😂 but yeah like now I love the idea of him having Caleb’s baby photos too, I’m not going back on it. Caleb just has them ready to hand over the next time they all see each other (idk if I already mentioned that?) and he does a big evil speech but hands Reggie the photos halfway through, still talking, and Reggie just smiles and tucks them away into his pocket

“Or at least normal Reggie behaviour” I love how that implies that even though they’ve only really met twice Caleb already knows exactly what Reggie’s like and not only accepts it but is willing to encourage it, showing that he probably thinks it quite sweet (because let’s face it, we all think Reggie is sweet, and Caleb may be evil but he’s not stupid)

Reggie having the queen’s baby photos omg I’m dead 😂😂 that time they met he asked her and like Caleb she didn’t question it, just handed over these probably priceless photos and they end up in some ghost’s scrapbook

Omg yes all of them in hotdog suits plus baby Willie with hotdog socks! Or eating a hotdog! Or with a hotdog stuffed toy! The possibilities are endless

19. YES definitely. Also, Willie and Alex’s alliance only lasts until one of them has the perfect opportunity to shove snow down the other’s back just to watch them squirm, then it’s every ghost for himself

20. You are SO right, Owen and Booboo are literally amazing, we really won with this whole cast.

And thank you so much for saying Caleb played Willie as much as he did the guys!!!! I’ve seen so much stuff recently about Willie hate and like no?? You’re right, Willie was as much a victim as the others. Also I am so in love with the idea of Good Caleb! I just want him to adopt Alex, that’s literally it. Maybe instead of Caleb being defeated by the end of the show, he has seen the error of his ways and has turned nice, now only using evil against people who upset Alex and Willie, pretty please, Kenny make this happen???

Wait yeah that’s a really good point. Again, it’s a looooong tangent and it’s ten to two so I won’t write it now, but Luke and Flynn being friends (and competing over who loves Julie more) is something I desperately need

21. Yes lmao like Alex when he was alive would sometimes graffiti with the boys or set fire to stuff for fun (because they’re teenage boys and that’s what teenage boys do right? Idk that’s what the ones I know do) but as a ghost when he’s invisible he’s just very unsure about going into a closed museum

24. Yesss I need this so muchhh you’re so right

25. Alex and Carrie friendship is god tier.

Small tangent but y’know what else is great? Carrie and Nick being best friends instead of dating. They would get on so well without the pressure of a relationship (once Carrie becomes a little nicer and Nick stops being possessed)

Exactly that’s totally what Luke is

26. Another Willie hair flip PLEASE I would die. Just, Alex short-circuiting around Willie is the best thing ever. And it’s got me wondering what other little things Willie does that basically break Alex: stretching when he’s wearing a crop top so Alex can see his stomach and the smallest bit of his chest; okay but swimmer Willie?? Willie was on his school’s swim team and still swims sometimes and for whatever reason Alex’s loses it; twirling his hair around his finger (bonus points: twirling Alex’s hair around his finger while they’re cuddling)

32. I just love the idea of literally anyone giving them stickers. Reggie’s just out and about in a forest in the middle of nowhere one day (even he doesn’t really know what he’s doing there) and somehow someone finds him and hands him their fanart

35. Omg I didn’t think about how emotional it would be but then you had to go and say this and now all I can think about is each of the boys getting the family they deserve after so long and being loved and cared for unconditionally even though they’re dead and Ray would call them his angels (because he kinda did in ep 7) and oh god it’s too much I love it

Ooooh yes I like that, it’s a good way around the issue 😂 ghost takes photo, ghost can be seen. Perfect

37. Pffffft lmao YES. Reggie just wasn’t really certain on how the washing machine worked because it was at Luke’s house not his and they had a different model and he forgot not to mix colours and it all went badly wrong. Also Luke is banned from wearing them without supervision because once he accidentally set fire to one and now it’s elbow has a burnt patch on it

39. Now you’ve mentioned that I want Ray and Trevor to be friends again! They were probably buddies until Julie and Carrie fell out, I’d love to see them reconnect

Personally my favourite thing of this whole experience is how “Alex and jigsaws” turned into “Reggie has the queen’s baby photos”

[breanime]

Rumors

A fluffy, post-Azkaban Sirius fic that came out of nowhere! Lemme know what you think! 

*gif by @siriusblackfoot*

It’d been a busy few weeks for Sirius—for all of them, actually. After Peter betrayed the Potters and tried to have them killed and frame Sirius, it was nothing but trials and publicity until finally James and Lily (haven made sure that Harry was somewhere safe) were able to come out of hiding and vouch for Sirius. Remus, of course, had been on his side from the beginning, as well as most of the Order. It still pissed Sirius (and James, and Remus, and Lily…) off that Dumbledore took so long to make a statement on Sirius’ behalf. James said that was due to (newly turned double agent) Snape’s influence, but Sirius was pretty sure Dumbledore was just waiting to see if he had bet on the right horse…or dog, to be more accurate. His family, of course, doubled down on the disownment, and he’d been called a blood traitor so many times that it became a badge of honor. Old friends, teachers, complete strangers all knew who he was, and everyone had an opinion about his innocence—even now, after it had been proven that he hadn’t done anything wrong, people still looked at him suspiciously. He’d been getting hate mail (from both sides, actually) for weeks now. But finally, the trial was over, he’d done everything he could to help track Peter down, the Potters were safe, and they were all about to be released from the safe house and go back to their lives.

“Are you nervous?” James asked, lying on his stomach on a bench because he could never sit correctly.

Sirius answered with a shake of his head, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was incredibly nervous. Before they could leave the safe house, they had to be transported to another location and have a protection spell put on them all. And as talented as they all were, there was one witch in particular who was a genius with protection spells, and she just happened to be one of the few people—besides the Marauders—who’d believed in Sirius this whole time, the one person who’s memory was enough to keep the Dementors at bay while he was in Azkaban, the only woman Sirius had ever truly loved… You.

“I think he’s nervous,” James said, looking over at Lily.

“Stop it, James,” she admonished him lightly, “he’s every right to be nervous.”

“”M not nervous,” Sirius spoke around his cigarette, “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you’re a newly released, notoriously famous blood-traitor convict?” James supplied.

“Because you’re about to be reunited with your lost love who you haven’t seen in years,” Lily added.

“And you haven’t even had a proper haircut in all that time,” Remus reminded him.

“Not that you need one, darling,” James said sincerely, “You look good no matter what.”

“Thanks, babe,” Sirius said back, distracted as he continued to stare over at the door. Due to their collective level of importance and celebrity, everything they did had to be shrouded in secrecy, meaning not even they knew exactly when you would be arriving. Dumbledore had sent word saying you were coming and what day you were coming, so they’d all be ready, but—in true Dumbledore fashion—he hadn’t given any more detail than that.

Sirius, ignoring his friend’s ongoing discussion about his nerves, took a second to look away from the door to glance down at himself. His hair was longer than it’d been at Hogwarts, and he had facial hair—you’d never seen him with facial hair. James, as concerned as a doting mother, had nearly cried when he saw Sirius after Azkaban, apparently, he’d lost some weight. However, Remus said he didn’t look so bad. His exact words had been “you couldn’t look worse than I do after a full moon”, which had made Sirius laugh. Lily had brought him a bag of clothes and other toiletries when they got there, so now instead of his prison robes, Sirius was wearing his favorite pair of dark jeans (complete with a chain wallet that he, a wizard, did not need), a black button-up that was not all the way buttoned up, his silver necklace with his prison number that he, James, and Remus had made a few nights ago, and a gently worn leather jacket with black boots. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should have dressed up? Except that wasn’t him, and you knew that. But what did it matter, anyway? You were probably seeing someone, and even if you weren’t—you and Sirius had been friends at school, dated throughout your 5th, 6th, and 7th years, broke up at the end of the school year, kept hooking up for a while afterwards, and then amicably parted ways as you both fought in the war—so why would you be interested in an old flame like him?

“You look wonderful, Sirius,” Lily said, practically reading his thoughts.

“’Course he looks wonderful, he’s Sirius Black. Look at that face!” James said proudly, bringing a grin to Sirius’ face. “And that hair! And the legs! Give us a twirl, darling!”

Sirius, never one to disappoint his fans, put his arms up and twirled around, making sure to flip his hair to give his modeling the full Sirius affect. James clapped enthusiastically while Lily and Remus laughed, rolling their eyes.

“I see some things never change.”

Sirius froze, back to the door and arms still out. He knew that voice. He dreamt of that voice. He’d memorized the sound of that voice laughing, and moaning, and whispering his name oh so sweetly.

“Y/N!” Lily cried, running past Sirius to tackle you in a hug. Remus followed, giving Sirius a small smile that clearly said “sorry you embarrassed yourself in front of the love of your life, mate”. James straight up laughed in his face.

Sirius turned on his heel, and he took in a breath as he saw you. How could you be even more beautiful than you were the last time he’d seen you? How was that fair?!

You looked over at him from behind James’ shoulders, and wow… did he miss those eyes of yours.

“Hi Sirius,” you said once James released you. You offered him up a small smile, and Sirius felt himself melt.

“Hi. Hey.” He put a hand up in greeting before awkwardly dropping it to his side. “Hi.” He heard James giggle and Lily shush him.

“You—it’s good to see you,” you said.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you, too. You look—you look good.” Sirius cleared his throat. Why was this so hard? Back at Hogwarts, he’d been able to charm you effortlessly (after a short learning curve, of course), now he felt like he did 4th year when he realized he had a crush on his friend Y/N.

You smiled, a real, full smile, and Sirius had to remind himself not to swoon. “Thanks,” You pulled out a cracked, ceramic coffee mug from your bag, “So we’re going to be traveling via Portkey,” you explained, “The Order has safe houses all over the world, of course, but we’re going to my place until everything dies down a bit.” You turned to address the Potters. “They’ll be bringing Harry to us before the day is over,” you smiled warmly when you saw the looks of pure bliss on their faces, “I thought you’d like to be with him right away.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Lily sighed out, “I can’t tell you how happy that makes us.”

“Of course,” you said, shrugging one shoulder, “I know how hard it can be to miss someone,” you glanced over at Sirius, and his heart skipped a beat, “Anyway, my place is secure, it’s set up with a variety of complex protection spells, so everyone will be safe.” You held out the mug. “Shall we?”

Remus, James, Lily, and Sirius all came up to you and put their hands on the mug. Sirius vaguely registered that familiar tug that came with traveling this way, but his main focus was the feel of your hand—so soft and smooth—underneath his.

In a second, you five were standing in the entry way of a home—your home—and you ushered them inside. Once the door was locked behind you all, you got to work setting the protection spells on them. You started with Lily (“have to protect Mommy,” you had said cheerfully), then James, and then Remus. Each one took a few minutes, and Sirius watched; entranced. He was in awe of you, of every flick of your wand, every complex mixing of spells that passed your pretty lips, every small frown or satisfied smile as you finished a particular tricky spell—it was incredible.

You were just finishing up with Remus when James put his arm around Lily and said, “Thanks so much, Y/N! We really are so lucky to have you! Is there a room we can go to freshen up? Maybe get an owl to Harry—he can’t read yet, but he’s a right good listener.”

You laughed. “Sure, your room is at the top of the stairs to the right, and Remus is right across from you.” You stepped back from Remus. “You’re all done, you can go get comfortable if you like. I’ve an owl named Ninny, and another called Nessie, and I put invisible ink, parchment, and quills in all the rooms.”

“Oh, thank you,” Remus said, “But you know, I’m actually quite interested in these spells you’re doing. I noticed you seem to have combined—”

“—Now, now Moony,” James interrupted, “They’ll be plenty of time for shoptalk later, let’s let Y/N work on Sirius.”

“Oh,” Remus grinned, “Right. Of course.” Sirius had to fight down the urge to facepalm. “I’d like to send a few words to Harry, now that I think about it…”

“Yes,” Lily agreed, already leading the two men up the staircase, “we’ll just go and do that now—you two take your time! And Sirius, I’ll tell Harry you send your love!”

“Thanks, Evans,” Sirius grumbled, calling her by her surname due to force of habit.

Lily winked at him, James have him a VERY unsubtle thumbs up, and Remus pushed them both up the stairs.

And suddenly you two were alone together.

“So,” you said casually, coming to stand in front of Sirius so you could start the process, “I hear you’re Harry’s godfather.”

Sirius smiled. He doted on Harry—but then again, they all did. It had caused him so much pain to think that little Harry would grow up thinking his godfather killed his parents, but thankfully, that terrible scenario hadn’t happened, so Sirius decided not to dwell on it. “Yeah,” he answered, “He looks just like James—with the hair and everything. Except he’s got Lily’s eyes, and probably her badassery, too.”

“The badass gene does come from the mother,” you said.

“Then where’d mine come from?” He said back.

You laughed—he’d made you laugh!—and walked around Sirius for the next spell. “Don’t move,” you said. The command was unnecessary. He wouldn’t have moved away from you for anything. “I also heard you got Muggle tattoos after school.”

He nodded. “D’you know they do them with needles? It was bloody torture,” he shrugged, “I mean, I would still take that over the Dementors any day, but…” He saw you frown as you moved to stand behind him. He needed to change the subject. “…I heard you were offered a position at Hogwarts.”

Your eyebrows went up as you came to stand in front of him again, wand up. “How’d you hear that?”

Sirius smirked. “How’d you hear about me?” He asked back.

You smiled, looking away from him in a way that just made him want to kiss you. “I may have asked around.”

“That’s exactly what I do—did,” he confessed.

“I’ve also heard some rumors about you,” you said, moving around him again. Sirius twisted around, trying to keep you in his sights. “I’d like to know if they’re true or not.”

He licked his lips. His name had been in the papers a lot recently, and the reviews weren’t all glowing. But he knew you, and more importantly: you knew him, and Sirius had no doubt in his mind, now that you were standing with him, smiling at him like that, that you would never let your image of him be swayed by the tabloids. “Well, today’s your lucky day,” he grinned, “You have me all to yourself: ask away.”

“All to myself, huh?” You gave him a smirk that had his body tingling with excitement. “About time…” Before Sirius could even unpack that, you were behind him again, whispering out another spell before you spoke again. “I heard you escaped on a Hippogriff.”

“True,” Sirius smiled fondly, “Well—I didn’t escape on him, but he was my ride out. What else?”

“I also heard you have a hippogriff tattoo.”

“Where?”

“Where did I hear that or where do you have it?” You asked back.

Sirius’ smile widened. “Where did you hear I have it?”

“Rumor has it that you have the wings between your thighs,” you giggled, circling back around to his front.

He barked out a laugh. “That’s an incredible idea!”

“I knew it was fake!” You laughed back. “Joanna Rawlins said you got it during 6th year, which was obviously a lie.”

Sirius made a face. You had been together 6th year. “How would she even know?”

“She tried to make it sound like she’d seen you naked,” you huffed, “Even though I know for a fact that you can’t stand her.”

“I wouldn’t get a tattoo there anyway,” he said, “Why ruin perfection?”

“Exactly!” You agreed.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “So you think I’m perfect?” He asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, but he saw that smile as you stood behind him. “Hush, I have to do this spell.”

“Interesting,” he went on, starting to feel more like himself than he had in weeks, “You know, I was quite worried about seeing you again, but now that you admit you think I’m perfect—”

“—I never admitted that.”

“—I’m starting to feel a little better.” He turned, smirking over at you. “So what is it about me that’s just so perfect to you?”

You put his head in your hands and turned it so that he was staring straight ahead and not at you. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“C’mon, Y/N, tell me all about how you’ve been pining for me, wishing we would cross paths again and that I would bless you with all of my divine perfection.”

He could practically hear you rolling your eyes. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s been pining.”

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat—you had no idea how right you were. Truly, you had a gift for reading him without even knowing you were doing it. He swallowed, thinking back on those days when you were his, how happy and free he had felt when he was in your arms. Life had dealt him a shitty hand, it’s true, but Sirius also had a lot of happy memories, memories that he used to keep the Dementors from literally sucking the soul out of him—and quite a few of those memories were of you. He couldn’t deny that he loved you; he had and always would. And maybe… as you walked around him, wand up and voice low as you concentrated on performing the proper spells, maybe you still loved him, too. “I suppose that’s true,” he said quietly, glad that his back was to you now, “To be honest, the memory of you—of us—is pretty much what kept me going in Azkaban.” You stopped your rotation around him, standing in front of him with caring eyes. “I know I haven’t done a good job of keeping in touch, but I hope you know… I think about you all the time. And I’m…grateful for having been with you, for having those memories with you.” He looked away, down at his feet and then over to the wall. “Hell, I’m even grateful for the rumors you’ve just told me,” he said with a shallow laugh.

You took a step back, pocketing your wand. “There’s still a few more that we haven’t discussed,” you said, voice serious.

“…Okay…”

“I heard a rumor,” you said slowly, carefully, as if you didn’t want to startle him away—as if he hadn’t been dreaming of being this close to you for years now, “that you still have feelings for me.” You put a hand up before he could even open his mouth to respond. “True or false?”

“True.” He said, not wasting a second on hesitation.

You nodded, a small smile building at the corners of your increasingly kissable lips. “I also heard that you hadn’t been in a relationship since we broke up.”

“Also true.”

“Because…?” You prompted softly.

“Because I love you,” Sirius answered easily, “And only you. If I can’t be with you, then there’s no point in dating at all, is there?”

You were full-on smiling now, and so was Sirius. “I suppose not,” you said back. “You know, I heard another rumor that you were going to ask me out,” you shrugged, feigning causality, “And that you were going to stay here with me for a while, I mean—as long as you’d like to…”

“I’d like to stay forever,” Sirius blurted out, not at all embarrassed by his eager reaction, “And you know what, Y/N? I think that’s the most accurate rumor I’ve heard about myself in weeks.” He grinned. “I know we’re supposed to be laying low and what not, but would you like to go out with me? I can take you to the patio, or upstairs, or even to the kitchen!”

“Why yes, Mr. Black,” you stepped up to him with a smile, “I’d enjoy that very much.”

Sirius put a hand on your hips and pulled you to him, and he knew in that moment that you belonged at his side, always. “Then it’s a date,” he said back, leaning down slowly.

“HELL YEAH IT’S A DATE!” James yelled from the top of the staircase, making you and Sirius pull back, cheeks warm.

“James!” Lily scolded him.

“Really, Prongs?” Sirius yelled back, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “Aren’t you lot supposed to be writing Harry?”

“Harry would like to know that his godfather is getting back together with his badass pseudo-aunt,” Remus replied.

“And there’ll be a wedding soon!” James added excitedly.

You laughed, and Sirius could drown in the sound. “Don’t start spreading rumors, Potter!”

Sirius pulled you back to him, eager to have you back in his arms again. “Give it a few years,” he said softly. Your eyes widened, and Sirius leaned down and kissed you, melting against you as his mouth worked over yours. Lily, James, and Remus—parents and professionals all—were cheering and clapping above you, but Sirius was used to ignoring their dramatics by now. As he held you, Sirius knew that this was the start of the rest of his life; he wasn’t feeling completely whole yet—though he was certain the arrival of Harry was all that he needed to get there—but he was feeling good. Happy. Safe and loved and incredibly lucky to have such great friends in his life, and such an amazing woman in his arms.

And really, as he thought about rumors of weddings going through their circle of friends, and then probably the Order, and then to the entire Wizarding world as well, Sirius had to say…

…rumors weren’t always so bad after all.

*******************************************************************************************

I think I may be ready to write more for Sirius... maybe. I want to write something for my James x reader x Sirius verse (shameless plug for my fic In Sync!) at some point, too. 

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris @songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92 @realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu  @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @thebabblingbook @khuangpu13 @starkrobb

[thoughtfulwaffles]

Started With a Text

MrBeast x reader fic

Pretty much you're a pornstar and MrBeat shows quite an interest in you. (Will be a second part to this!)

*Y/S/N means your screen name*

You sat alone in your room, grazing through social media. The relentless nagging of sleep tugged at your eyelids as you scanned over each post. When you finally decide to give into the sleep whispering in your eyes you notice a blue tiger with a red lightning bolt on it's eye. The bright colors caught you attention. You save the unique tiger and place your phone on the charger in hopes you'd use that tiger for inspiration. You snuggle into you grey silk sheets and quickly gave into the slumber.

Dressing for these shows never pleased you. You were never embarrassed about the fact that you were practically a porn star. You started this because you never felt uncomfortable with your body and finding a job in southern California was harder then she thought. The only way people saw your body is if they paid for it on patreon. You knew there was perves out there but you didn't know they would pay so much to see you naked. You made enough money to pay your rent but other then that you're barely scraping by. 

You finish dressing in one of the red lingerie pieces on of your fans bought you. You sit down on your sheets and set up your laptop at the right angle. You make sure everything is in place before you hit record. You do your thing as usual.

After you finish you say your outro with a wink and end your recording. Before you upload any new video you check for any new subscribers to your patreon. You soon grew bored of looking at peoples accounts to see if they are safe to let them see you so you look through your existing subscribers. You look through the people who have your premium stuff and notice the familiar blue tiger. A flash of curiosity ran through your veins as you click on the profile. The name of the profile read Dan Lansing. You had a feeling that wasn't the actual name of the person behind the profile because most people don't want people knowing they pay to see naked women.

You go to google and search the logo. You find that it belong to a man that goes by MrBeast, a "famous" youtuber. After watching a couple of the videos you come to the conclusion that he is somewhat attractive. Looking at the profile, you decide that the person following you account is someone random. This 'MrBeast' guy doesn't seem like the type to pay for any kind of stuff like this. 

After uploading your video you put your computer away. The days in your one bedroom apartment are lonely. It;s the same routine almost everyday. Scroll through social media, eat, film a video, check comments, scroll through social media, eat then sleep. A very uneventful life. On special occasions you would have to leave to go get groceries or shop around for new toys when your fans wouldn't buy any. Sometimes your fans would send you the money then you would have to go out and look for the thing they want or you would glimpse the internet for it. You were pretty satisfied sitting on your couch at 10:30 pm the afternoon reading through comments people have left on your new video. 

Most of the comments on your videos are men telling you how sexy and gorgeous you looked or asking you to wear or do something in your next video. As you notice a comment by the blue tiger you get a message. Most messages are creepy men asking if they could fuck you and you always block those people. You were ready to hit the block button but you stopped midway. It was the blue tiger guy that had messaged you. Before you checked it you read his comment, "Please check your messages" it read. 

The blue tiger was in your message inbox. You figured he'd request a certain outfit or an action but what he actually asked left you in shock. "How would you feel about having a sugar daddy?" A little taken back you reread the message about ten times. You had hope that this was the famous youtuber that you've seen moments before. The chances of it being anyone else was very high but you let your heart fall into the little hole. Your life was very uneventful and to have this excited you. 

"Define sugar daddy." You decide to text back.

Within seconds there was a reply. "I'll fly you out and pay for anything you want if I get explicit nudes and the occasional fuck."

"Jesus he has balls." You mumble to yourself. The idea of someone else taking care of you and acting like a boyfriend peaked your interest. The whole patreon thing gave you a solid income for rent but you needed more to be living comfortably. You flip onto your back and type, "Who are you anyway? Doesn't seem safe for me to fly out to fuck a stranger."

"Does my profile pic look familiar to you?"

"I've done my research. Why would someone like MrBeast be paying for my stuff? Much less keep your profile pic the same."

"Would you believe me if I told you I was him?"

You inhale sharply as read the last message sent. A big part of you wanted to not fall for this trick and just not reply. Another part of you was tired of barely scraping by and wanted something new. "Prove it." You type.

Moments pass with no response. Putting your phone face down on your pillow, stretch and slide down you sheets onto the carpeted floor. You gather enough energy to get up and get something to eat. A shiver ran up your spine as you stepped onto the tile floor that made up your kitchen. You shuffle over over to your fridge and inspect the little food you have. Grabbing an orange, you shuffle back to your bed. 

A photo was sent to the chat. You were hesitant to open it but your curiosity got the best of you. A very groggy looking Jimmy was the photo. He wasn't wearing a shirt, his pale skin contrasting with his dark sheets. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were a blushed pink. He must be embarrassed about what he was asking. His eyes were halfway closed and his lips were barely in a smile. The picture didn't look stolen or screenshotted. You still had your doubts. "How is that proof."

 "Tell me how to prove it to you."

"Give me your phone number." You took a moment before you hit send. You figured that it would be hard to imitate MrBeast's voice and you could always FaceTime.

A string of numbers was sent. You stare at the numbers for a moment, convincing yourself that this was him. Your thumb hovered over the numbers before copying and pasting it to your call logs. Would it be rude if I FaceTimed first? You thought to yourself. You hit the FaceTime button, deciding that it was more believable if you could see his face.

The familiar voomff was heard and a tired looking Jimmy appeared on your phone screen. 

"Oh wow it's really you." You heard his southern accent through your phone speakers. He looked exactly like the photo he sent.

"What do you mean it's really me?" You say as casually as possible. It occurred to you that he may not have ever heard your actual voice since your videos are mostly you moaning and talking in what you like to call "your baby voice".

"Like... I've been watching your videos for a while now and... you're the only one that I've had any really interest in. It's almost 1 am and I'm so tired but I wanted to take my shot with you. And... you did. I honestly though you'd block me." He ended his spiel with an embarrassed smile. 

Speechless, you tried to muster up words. Why haven't I ever noticed him before? You wonder. "So you want to be my sugar daddy?" You chuckle.

"I wanted to get your attention." The man's cheeks blushed a rose pink as he rolled into his pillow.

"So you opted with sugar daddy?"

"Okay, okay. I did like the idea of having you around. I'll pay whatever you want. I'll provide necessities and housing. I just have this strong feeling to have you around Y/S/N."

Your heart fluttered. It was weird having him call you by your screen name but it still hit you in a way you've never felt before. "Aren't you worried I'll post this on Twitter and damage your career?"

"With the price I'm willing to pay you'll keep your pretty mouth shut." He said it absent mindlessly, the sleep crawling up and slowly taking him. "Plus, you don't seem like the type."

"Huh... Don't see why not."

Jimmy's brown eyes flashed open for a split second then relaxed once again. He was clearly falling asleep. "Was that a yes?" He said groggily. 

"Yes."

"Great. I'll text you with details in the morning. Goodnight love."

With an eye roll, you reply. "Goodnight,"