#this might be badly worded but i hope my point gets across

[im-all-out-of-ideas]

look i get it. oda tends to draw women Like That. it is NOT everyone's cup of tea and i understand. this includes efforts by other artists to redesign the ladies into something not so horny.

but sometimes there's an overcorrection into something that doesn't quite align with the characters. i think Oda has the right idea in making a lot of his women smoking fucking hot and any drawing made to capture, say, Nami or Robin shouldn't be afraid to make them beautiful!!!

this isn't to push against the idea of humanizing the designs, such as stretch marks, body hair, or god forbid normal human proportions. this is just a sign to any artists and fans of one piece to not feel bad about being artistically horny for the girls. they are for the lesbians and i for one love how even divorcing them from oda's designs you can still feel so much love for them through the frankly genius writing

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Nightvisions - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: This is part 2 to Dead of Night, Reader and Spencer face the fallout of an intense first sexual encounter, which leads to a second one.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i’m overjoyed by the positive response to ‘dead of night’ and i’m a woman of the people so despite my lack of plan to do a part 2, i wrote one anyway, and this is it! tbh i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i had fun writing it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: pervert!spencer, dom!spencer, angst, established relationships, confession of feelings, semi-public sex, noise control, hair pulling, spit, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), penetration, creampie, panty stealing, references to knifeplay, slight biting, hickey (kinda?) pet names (angel), fem + afab reader, happy ending

Rating: R, 18+

��—

As the work day dragged on you could feel your initial shock and intrigue twist into an anger that burned in the pit of your stomach. Every glance Spencer took at you from his desk across the bullpen made your blood pressure spike, unable to properly focus on the paperwork you had been working through for the better half of the day. Your mind kept drifting, trying to rationalize his potential motives, but the more the thought stirred in your mind the less you could justify it to yourself. You had to hear it directly from him, as soon as possible.

“Spencer, can I get your input on something?” You called him over to your desk, masking the frustration in your voice. He scrambled to his feet, eager to be close to you again for the first time since this morning. He leaned over your desk, glancing at the paperwork in front of you.

“How can I help?”

You pointed to an insignificant line of text as you leaned forward, bringing your mouth inches from his ear.

“Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes.” You whispered, watching as he gulped and nodded.

“That should be good.” He said as a cover, hoping not to draw suspicion to the two of you before returning to his desk.

You grabbed a file for show and walked to the conference room, checking that the blinds were pulled down over the windows overlooking the bullpen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, starting to pace to keep yourself occupied as you waited for him.

Moments later there came a gentle knock at the door before Spencer slowly opened it, dipping quickly in and locking the door behind him. A short silence hung in the air until your emotions got the better of you, his soft expression causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“How? Why?” You blurted out, a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and desperation playing out in your features. He took a step toward you and you took a step back, keeping distance between you. If he touched you, you might break, shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together.

“Please just let me explain.” His tone held such strong desperation that you almost forgot how betrayed you felt. You wiped a tear from your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall, waiting.

“You left your profile up on your computer one night and I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I always have.” He took a deep breath, for once careful to articulate his words as he watched your expression carefully, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“I know it was wrong, but I never thought I’d stand a chance with a woman like you if I went about it the traditional way. I never intended on hurting you, but I clearly have, and doing so is the biggest regret of my life.” You wanted to believe him, he seemed so earnest, but the doubt was eating you alive by the second. What if it was all an act? Was the connection you felt that night built on lies?

“Was everything you said in our chats a lie just to sleep with me?” You kept a straight face, fighting back more tears to keep your composure. You couldn’t let him know how badly you were hurt, not if he didn’t mean it.

“Oh god no, angel, everything I said was the truth.” He grew more frantic, nervously stretching his fingers as he fought the urge to step toward you again. He just wanted to hold you, to comfort you in the simplest way he knew how, but he couldn’t do anything that might make you more uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, still too frustrated with him at the moment to deal with your feelings for him. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut to resist the urge to ramble on and on about what he felt for you.

“I’m not sure I believe you Spencer, I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” Your voice cracked, biting the inside of your lip as you watched his face drop.

“You can.” He weighed the risk and took a step closer to you again, and you didn’t move away from him this time.

“How do I know that?”

“I’m in love with you.”

It was the most confident he’d been all day, his voice unwavering with every word.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Tears threatened your waterline once more, hanging on his every movement as you tried to read him.

“I do mean it, I’ve known from the first time we spent 2 hours talking nonstop on the jet. No one has ever seen me the way that you do.” His eyes were glassy with tears and your heart began to melt, dropping your arms to your sides and finally closing the gap between you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You took his hand in yours, your thumb swiping over the veins on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same.” He sighed, averting his gaze from yours.

“I do.” You confirmed, squeezing his hand. He looked at you once more, the tension between you practically suffocating.

He leaned into you, his face dangerously close to yours as he searched your eyes for any lingering apprehension, but there was none to be found. He took a leap of faith, hoping he was reading you right as his lips met yours, his hand cupping the side of your face. You melted into the kiss, allowing him to guide your mouth against his. Your skin grew hot, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as his actions grew more intense, his lips pushing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

His hands moved lower, ghosting down your sides, the slight pressure against your healing cuts from the night before making you shiver. He finally reached the hem of your skirt, slowly hiking the fabric up your thighs. You pulled your mouth away from his, panting for a moment in hopes of catching your breath once more.

“Spencer, we can’t.” You sighed, meeting his hungry gaze.

“We can if we’re careful.” He countered, pushing you gently back until your hips bumped against the large circular table in the center of the room.

“What if someone hears? If we get caught we could lose our jobs.” The rational part of your brain seemed to be dueling with your primal urges, your body betraying your mind as the thought of getting caught only made the wetness between your thighs grow more intense.

“Then you better be quiet.” He whispered, his large hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the conference table. He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up the rest of the way to bunch around your hips, humming to himself as he admired your perfect ass. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them over the curve of your hips and down your legs before pocketing the lacy fabric.

You whined, wiggling your hips back to urge him on.

“Be patient.” He laughed, his voice low. You didn’t have to wait long, his head dipping between your thighs to find your waiting pussy. His strong grip kept your thighs spread as his tongue delved between your folds, quickly giving ample attention to your swollen clit. He was hungry, plush lips drinking in your arousal with every extended lap of his tongue, practically suffocating himself as his nose brushed against your weeping entrance.

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting your wrist to stifle your whimpers as you rocked back against him, indulging in the way he devoured you. He moaned against you, muffled vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, your clit growing more and more sensitive by the second. You were starting to get desperate, riding his face until the table underneath you began to squeak with every rock of your hips. Spencer suddenly pulled away, sitting back on his calves.

“Your desperation is going to get us caught.” He brought his hand between your legs, fingers massaging your clit for a split second before rearing back and slapping against it, causing you to jolt forward. You yelped, a bit louder than you intended from the shock of it, and you swallowed nervously, anticipating his next move.

He rose to his feet, his clothed hips pushing against your bare ass as he gripped your hair in his fist, firmly pulling you upright. You bit your lip to hide your moan, letting him guide your every step as he pulled you across the room, finally pressing your back against the wall.

“Spencer, please.” You sounded more pathetic than you intended but the way his mouth felt on you got you beyond worked up, and in that moment you felt like you needed him inside you more than you needed air.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He questioned, his hand resting on his belt buckle as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.” You looked up at him, giving your best doe-eyed look as you began unbuttoning your blouse. He began to undo his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles as he held out his hand in front of you.

“Spit.” He commanded, the dominant side of him coming out more with every sweet sound that left your lips. You did as you were told, spitting in his hand to provide a bit of lubricant for him to stroke his cock, fully preparing himself to enter you.

You were mesmerized, unable to look away from the way his shirt rode up his torso, toned but slender stomach flexing with each movement of his hand, his hair falling messily in his flushed face, a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. You pulled the cups of your bra down, toying with your nipples as you enjoyed the show, feeling like you were watching the most intimate sex tape you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment over how desperate you were for him. You nodded frantically, draping your arms behind his neck, pulling him to you. You raised your leg, wrapping it around his waist, looking down between your chests to watch him lineup his cock with your cunt. He pushed the head in, cutting off the gasp that threatened to rip from your throat as he pulled you into another intense kiss.

He sank fully into your tight walls, the soreness you felt from the night before melting away with every stroke he laid into you. You moaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to take the reins, his controlling grip digging soft bruises into the flesh of your breasts, then your hip, electricity flowing between the two of you. You pulled away from the kiss, coming up for air, so lost in the feeling that you couldn’t make out any coherent sounds, only gentle whimpers and whines.

“You feel so good.” He moaned quietly, quickening his pace, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb pressing firm swipes up and down over the swollen bundle of nerves. Your whimpers grew louder, and despite your hazy state, you knew you had to quiet yourself quickly. You pulled him closer, burying your face in the side of his neck, your lips latching onto the soft skin behind his ear.

A groan rose from the back of his throat, your mouth sucking against his pressure point pulling him dangerously close to his release. You swore you were seeing stars, supernovas erupting between your thighs as you started to contract around him, your senses overwhelmed with his touch, crying out against his neck. Your knee began to buckle, your leg almost giving out if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. He continued to pump in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm until you had gained a bit more of your composure, able to support yourself again despite how fucked out you felt.

Spencer felt himself falter and anchored his hips against yours, keeping himself seated within your warm walls as they coaxed him to completion. He quietly moaned your name, his head hung to observe the view of himself pulling out of you. You dropped your leg, still in a daze as you began righting your clothing. After you redid the last button of your top and yanked your skirt back down over your ass, you realized you couldn’t find your underwear.

“Looking for something?” He questioned, that familiar dorky smile plastered across his face. You turned to face him, seeing the lace dangling from his fingertip, but as you grabbed for it he pulled it out of reach.

“These are mine now.” He shoved the fabric back in his back pocket before you could attempt to steal them back again.

“Spencer, your cum is dripping down my leg, I kind of need those.” You took a stride toward him to close the gap between you, hoping to wrap your arm around his waist and take them out of his pocket. Your plan was quickly foiled as he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“You better keep your legs closed then, I’m not giving them back.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low but hinted with mischief.

“Whatever, pervert.” You pulled out of his grip, starting to walk toward the door. Your slight annoyance with his teasing quickly faded, unable to deny that walking back out into the bullpen full of Spencer’s cum was an incredibly hot concept.

“What does that make you, then?” He laughed, running his hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“An angel, according to you.” You turned back to him momentarily to wink in his direction, giving him a comfortable resolution to your slight outburst earlier.

“Can I see you again? Outside of work, I-I mean.” He slightly stumbled over his words, his dominant demeanor fading back into his signature awkward cadence, clearly a bit flustered by your tongue-in-cheek show of affection. You almost laughed, the question feeling a bit absurd given that you’d both just confessed your feelings for one another in more ways than one.

“Take me out to dinner tonight, I’ll be ready by 6. You have my address.” You smiled, watching a blush rise over his cheeks in response to your callback before unlocking the conference room door and returning to your desk to finish out the workday, eagerly awaiting your first real date with Spencer.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea @theoraekenslover @placidus

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my spencer reid taglist :)

also tagging those who requested a part 2, thank you for the inspo!: @silver138 @espressoparis @futuremrsreid @charmedkim @lilcuutiee @cryxbabyxxx @c1rcus-baby

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hey could I get an Angsty fic with wife Olivia Benson/Emily Prentiss (which ever you want) where the reader is a detective/profiler and gets hurt badly and Emily/olivia are the ones to find them and they have to keep them awake until the paramedics get there?

You can pick the injury

Hey @yanginginthere! 😊 It's been a minute since I wrote for Olivia, so that's what I did here! Hope you enjoy! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Eyes Open

Olivia Benson x fem!reader Warnings: MAJOR BIG HUGE WARNINGS for gun violence/school shootings, blood, death, etc., medical emergencies, near-death situation, hospitals, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.0k

Summary: When the rest of the squad is hesitant to enter the scene of a school shooting, you make one of the rashest decisions of your life--one you might not come back from. Your wife, Olivia, races to get to you in time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought as you watched blood pour from your abdomen. You were on the ground before you knew what was happening, before you could evaluate the situation. You pressed your hands over the gunshot wound, trying not to think about how much blood was seeping between your fingers.

You glanced around the room, panicked, nearly sick to your stomach. The racetrack rug, the little cubbies, the bodies. You wretched and vomited before collapsing onto your back. Your partner, Mendoza, lay on the opposite side of the room, pale, wide-eyed, still. Dead. He was dead. You swallowed back tears. Now was not the time to cry.

The shooter’s blood had sprayed across the bookshelves when you shot him. You couldn’t get close enough to feel for a pulse, but he wasn’t moving. So he was at least incapacitated. What you needed was to call for backup, to get the rest of the cowards from the NYPD–the ones who sat outside to wait for backup while you could hear children screaming–to get their asses in here and help. You and Mendoza had gone in against orders, had ignored a direct command from a superior officer to wait for backup. And, god knows, you’d both paid for it, but if even one child made it out that wouldn’t have otherwise, it would be worth it.

You felt for your radio at your side and groaned when you realized it had been shot by the same bullet that was now lodged inside of you. Your vision was starting to grow fuzzy; it was only a matter of time until you passed out. And who knew how long until backup finally decided to enter the elementary school?

You heard movement and jerked your head to the side to see the very top of a small head poking out from the supply closet.

“Hey!” you shouted, crying out in relief. The child shrank back, and you called, “No, no, no, it’s okay! It’s okay. I know it’s scary. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you. That man with the gun, he can’t hurt you anymore. But I need your help. Do you think you could come out here and help me?”

The boy poked his head out again, a little bit farther, and you could see that his face was tear-stained, covered in snot. Your heart broke for him. You wanted to cry. You hated to traumatize him further, but you also knew that if you didn’t get backup and EMTs in here as soon as possible, more people were going to lose their lives–including you.

“Hi, honey,” you said as he stared at you, wide-eyed. “My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?”

He sucked in a breath, then shakily replied, “Arturo.”

You nodded. “Arturo. That’s a nice name. You’re being really brave, sweetheart. Is there anyone else in there with you?”

He nodded his head.

“How many people?”

Arturo held up five fingers.

“Five?” you asked, trying to focus your eyes.

He nodded.

“Are there any grown-ups?”

His face screwed up, like he was about to cry, and he shook his head.

“Okay, honey. That’s okay. Listen. Arturo, we need to call for help so the other police officers and the ambulance drivers can get in here and help everybody. Okay?”

He didn’t respond. You pointed to your busted radio. “My walkie talkie broke, but my partner’s should still work. He’s right over there… just–” You shuddered. God, you were having a child grab a device from a dead body. This poor kid. All these poor kids. But you didn’t know what else to do. “Just don’t look at his face or anything,” you told him. “The walkie talkie on his belt, that’s what we need. Can you do that for me, Arturo?”

He shook as he stood, and you could tell he’d wet himself in fear. Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched him wobble toward Mendoza’s body. “You’ve already been so brave, buddy, I just need you to be brave a little bit longer.”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to fight the dizziness that swam inside your head.

“It’s stuck,” Arturo whimpered, and you snapped your eyes open.

“Okay, buddy,” you said, wracking your brain for a solution. “That’s alright. Umm… there’s a little button on the side, do you see that?”

Arturo nodded, his fingers wet with Mendoza’s blood.

“Alright, just press the button and hold it down, and then repeat what I say. Okay, Arturo?”

“Okay,” he whimpered, holding his little hand against the radio.

You exhaled sharply, as the pain in your abdomen surged. “Say, This is Officer Y/L/N.”

He repeated it, looking at you with wide, scared eyes.

“Badge number 11227.”

You gulped as your vision blurred, trying to be as concise as possible.

“Shooter is down. Officers down. Requesting immediate backup and medical assistance.”

You could feel your body falling out of consciousness, could hear Arturo talking to the other officers through the radio, but it was far away, as if you were in a tunnel.

“Please help,” he cried, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “She’s not talking anymore.”

The last thought you had before blacking out was that your wife would kill you if you died.

“Clear!” Olivia shouted, moving from classroom to classroom at PS 717, gun at the ready. The rest of the officers stopped as needed to help evacuate children and school staff, to give first aid as needed, but she and Elliot were single-minded. They had one job, and she had insisted it be theirs as the NYPD prepared to enter the scene: find the shooter and confirm that he was down.

The last person they had heard from was you. Well, a little boy who had your name and badge number and said all the right things and, therefore, was presumably with you. She was furious with you, furious that you’d gone in without backup, furious that you were so goddamned good and brave, that you would be willing to sacrifice your life for these kids, even though it was one of the things she loved most about you. And, truthfully, underneath all that fury was just plain fear. Absolute terror. Where were you?! Obviously you were hurt if you couldn’t call in yourself. And, from the sound of it, it had been you who took down the shooter.

“Liv!” Elliot yelled from a classroom down, and she sprinted toward him, her heart in her throat. Elliot was already on the radio: “We need medical here stat! East wing of the school, fourth classroom on the right. We’ve got two officers down, shooter down, multiple civilian casualties.”

Olivia burst into the classroom, her eyes quickly taking in the damage: Mendoza down, shooter down, kids crying in the corner, civilians down, and you. Her heart was in her throat as she holstered her gun and dropped to your side.

“No, no, no, baby,” she cried, cradling your limp head and feeling for a pulse. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You are too damn stubborn to go out like this.” Your pulse was thready and weak, as was your breath. She brushed your hair out of your face, trying hard to keep herself breathing, to not fall apart, not yet. She smacked you lightly on the face until you coughed and blinked your eyes open.

Olivia let out a sob of relief and caressed your face, pressing her free hand on top of yours to stifle your bleeding.

“Liv?” you groaned. Then weakly pointed in the direction of the shooter. “Is he…”

“He’s down, baby, he’s dead. You got him.”

You coughed again and winced, your body shaking with cold or trauma or both. “Arturo?” you asked, glancing around for him.

“The little boy?” she clarified. You nodded. “He’s safe, he’s okay. He’s with Elliot.”

Your body started to shake more violently and it was if, finally, the terror of the day had caught up with you. Tears streamed down your face. Your skin was clammy and your breath came in short huffs. You weren’t stupid. You knew what they meant, all the signs in your body: hypovolemic shock. You’d lost too much blood. You were dying.

You’d like to say that, in what you assumed were your dying moments, your life flashed before your eyes, that you thought of everything you’d experienced and everything you’d not yet been able to. But, honestly, you were just scared. And sad to leave Olivia.

“I love you,” you choked out as your eyelids fluttered between open and shut.

“No, no,” Olivia protested, grasping your face in her hands. “Don’t you fucking say goodbye to me, Y/N. This is not fucking goodbye! You keep your eyes open, Officer. That’s a direct order!”

And you really did try. You really did fight to keep Olivia’s face in front of you, her terrified, tear-stained face. You just couldn’t bear to leave her, not like this.

When you finally lost consciousness, Olivia yelling your name was the last thing you heard.

You woke up god knows how much later in a hospital bed, with several wires attached to you and an ungodly amount of pain in your abdomen, not to mention a mouth so dry it felt like your tongue had been left to dehydrate.

Before you knew what was happening, Olivia’s lips were on yours, her hands grasping the side of your face so tightly you thought there was a good chance she might never let you go.

“You fucking asshole,” she cried, her tears wet against your skin. “You almost died!”

She kissed you a few more times for good measure, then leaned back to look at you, your own tears streaming now. She sniffled and wiped your eyes, smiling even as she cried. “Why do you have to be so goddamned brave, huh?”

You shrugged, then winced. “No, no, don’t move!” she exclaimed. “Just… let yourself rest, okay?” She shook her head. “You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry, love,” you croaked out. You blinked tears away and looked at the ceiling, trying hard to banish the mental images of Mendoza, of the blood, of the civilians. “I just… I couldn’t…”

“I know,” she said, taking your hand. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

You coughed and frowned at her. “You better fucking not.”

She pointed to the table next to your hospital bed, stacked with cards and flowers. “You’ve got quite a lot of fans now.”

You shook your head. You didn’t deserve fans. If anyone deserved the recognition, it was Mendoza. You tried not to think of him, knew you’d start crying if you did.

“Here,” Olivia said, holding out a folded sheet of paper. “Read this one. It’s good.”

There was a stick-figure drawing of you as a superhero and a messy, misspelled note:

Dear Ofiser Y/L/N, thak you so much for helpig me be brav and for gettig the bad gy. Yor my heero. Arturo Guerrero.

Your eyes were swimming by the time you finished reading it. You should be the one thanking him.

“The NYPD’s giving you a Medal of Honor, too, when you’re well enough. You’re a hero, honey,” Olivia said, tracing your cheekbone with her thumb. “A dumb, brave idiot of a hero. But my hero, all the same.”

You didn’t know how you felt about this hero business, didn’t feel like you deserved it. You’d just done your job. And your job required a bit more of you this time around.

“Liv,” you ventured, uncomfortable.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “A hero?”

You nodded.

“What should we call you then?”

You smiled wryly. “Just Y/N.”

Olivia leaned forward to brush your hair out of your face, staring lovingly at you. “How about love of my life?”

You smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. That’ll do.”

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 57 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets home in time to take care of you when you need him the most, and he's ready to push aside his own exhaustion to let Noah celebrate Halloween. Announcements and plans are made, including some that you're looking forward to a lot more than Bradley is.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, mentions of miscarriage, swearing, smutty blowjob, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Noah woke up on Halloween, he made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he went. Then he stopped short next to the table. "Daddy?"

Bradley spun around to see his son standing there in disbelief. "Hey, Bub," he said as a smile bloomed across his face. "I missed you." He knelt down, and Noah immediately trotted across the room and right into his open arms. "I made it back just in time to go trick-or-treating with you."

He kissed Noah's cheek and buried his nose in his son's soft curls, inhaling the scent of home. "We're all going to go," Noah said with conviction. "Even Skittles has a costume. And Aunt Natasha is going to get one, too. She promised."

"Then I guess it will be a party," Bradley told him, deciding now wasn't the best time to mention that you may rather spend the evening in bed. "Are you hungry?" he asked, standing up with his son in his arms, simply because he wasn't ready to stop holding him. "Do you want pancakes?"

Bradley knew it was bad when a four year old looked at you like he was convinced anything you tried to cook would be inedible. "Can Mommy make them?"

"Wow," Bradley said, trying not to laugh. He was pretty convinced five minutes ago that he'd be able to follow the directions on the box, but maybe not. "Do you really think Mommy is that much better at cooking than I am?"

"Yes. She is. Can she make the pancakes?"

Bradley laughed and kissed his cheek again. "How about I give it the old college try since Mommy is still sleeping, okay?" He held Noah while he measured out the water, but when it was time to crack an egg, he set him down at the table with a glass of milk and an activity book that you or Nat must have got for him. He looked at the egg, not quite trusting himself, and he cracked it into a bowl instead directly into the pancake mix. He ended up picking pieces of the shell out of the bowl, but once he started to stir everything together, it looked pretty damn good. 

"Okay," he muttered, wondering if you'd want to eat breakfast in bed if he managed to pull this off. He should order one of those tray tables for you to use. He dumped some of the batter into the hot pan and started to look online for a purple tray when he got a little distracted. 

"Daddy," Noah said, pointing to the stove as soon as Bradley smelled the pancake starting to burn.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, setting his finally fully charged phone aside. "It's okay, I'll eat this one," he promised, flipping it over with a spatula to reveal a blackened, smoking mess. Now he paid close attention to what he was doing, and the next ones turned out pretty well, but it was too late.

"What did you burn?" you asked from the doorway with a smile. When Bradley tossed the spatula aside and rushed to your side, you said, "For a minute there, I thought it was all a dream, and that you weren't really home yet at all. But then I smelled something burning and knew you must be."

He wrapped one arm around your waist, tilted your chin up with his fingers and kissed you, hoping to convey just how badly he had missed you. He didn't stop until Noah asked, "Mommy, can you make the pancakes?"

"Let's let Mommy rest," Bradley replied, stroking your neck with his fingertips. "Do you want me to bring a plate of food into the bedroom?" he asked you.

You shook your head and whispered, "I'm okay. I might take a nap later, but I'm fine, Daddy." Then you took his hand gently in yours and brought it to rest on your belly. "So is this little one."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," he blurted out, and you tucked your face against his chest. As your arms snaked around his waist, he said, "I would have been sad, but only because I'm so excited for the baby. But I wouldn't have blamed you or been upset with you, Princess."

You nodded and whispered, "I know. It was so scary though. And I don't think I could have gone much longer without you here."

"I'm home. And I'm cooking and doing everything. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Mommy, please," came Noah's exasperated voice. "The pancakes."

You started laughing against Bradley. "Do you want dinosaur pancakes?" you asked, and Noah gasped in delight. "I'll take that as a yes. Step aside, Daddy. Watch and learn."

But he didn't step aside. He stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder and told you over and over again how much he loved you while you prepared the most adorable breakfast he'd ever seen in his life. You cut up a pancake to look like a stegosaurus body and added spikes made out of sliced strawberries. You used part of a banana as the neck, and added chocolate chips as eyes. 

"Damn," Bradley said. "That's almost as cute as you are. Can I have one, too?" Then you cut up the burned pancake and made a much less cute looking dinosaur while he laughed the whole time. "Thanks. That's exactly how I wanted it."

"You're welcome," you told him with a smirk as you took some of the good pancakes for yourself. He guided you over to the table with all of the plates of breakfast, and Noah abandoned his book while he clapped his hands.

"Thank you, Mommy," he said as he shoved some strawberries into his mouth.

Then Bradley guided you down onto his lap and held you while you ate. "It's good to be home. When you're done eating, I want you to get back in bed and wait for me," he whispered, tracing your side gently with his fingers while he stuck his fork into his burnt dinosaur pancake.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said softly. "We can't do that. Not for a few more weeks. The doctors said my uterus has to thicken a bit more, and I-"

"Baby," Bradley said a little louder. "No. Don't apologize. I don't care about that. I want you to rest, but I also want to show you the books I bought in Tokyo."

You looked at him over your shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. "I want you to know that I did miss you that way, too."

"I missed you in every way imaginable, Princess."

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

Bradley ended up carefully carrying you to bed as you yawned, and he promised to clean up the kitchen and get things ready for Halloween.

"I want you to relax," he said for at least the tenth time as he dug around in his still unpacked duffle bag. "I'll take Noah out to buy some pumpkins in a little bit, and I'll leave you a sandwich in the fridge that you can eat when you want it. But in the meantime, look how cool these are."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to your thigh and handed you a stack of Japanese children's books. You smiled and looked at the covers. They ranged from some meant for a baby to ones that Noah would be interested in when he started school. "You were really thinking about your family the whole time, huh?"

"Every second I was gone," he promised, leaning down to kiss you. He would take care of everything, and Nat promised she'd come back later, and you really did almost feel like you could relax. But you still felt a little guilty even as he ran his lips and mustache along your cheek to your ear and whispered your name.

"You must be exhausted and jetlagged," you told him. "You're the one who should be resting."

He just shook his head, kissed you one more time and said, "I'll call Nat if I need her. Otherwise, I'm perfect because I'm with you. Rest."

Then he was gone, and you drifted off into the kind of beautiful sleep where you didn't have to worry about what time it was or when Noah needed to eat again. When you woke up after noon to a completely silent house, you ate your sandwich and then went right back to bed. Eventually Noah's laughter and the warm afternoon light that seemed impossible to sleep through had you out of bed again, but when you looked around the house, you didn't see anyone. The back door was open, and when you went into the kitchen, you saw Bradley and Noah carving pumpkins on the deck.

You walked outside in the random clothing you'd been sleeping in, and as soon as the sun hit your face, you didn't feel as exhausted anymore. "Mommy's up!" Noah cheered, jumping up to hug you with his slimy, orange hands. 

"Don't touch her until you wash your hands, Bub," Bradley called out with a grimace. "Too late."

"It's okay," you told him, kissing the top of Noah's head. "Are you happy Daddy made it home in time for Halloween?"

He looked up at you with a little crease along his brow. "I knew he would. That's why we bought him a costume."

"Speaking of which," Bradley said as he kissed your cheek without putting his messy hands on you, "it's almost time to get changed to go collect candy."

"And ride in the wagon!" Noah exclaimed.

"What wagon?" you asked.

"You'll see," Bradley replied with a little smirk. 

After a leisurely shower during which you didn't have to worry about anything except yourself, you dressed in your princess costume that you and Noah picked out from the Halloween warehouse and put on some makeup. Then you added your brand new crown, and you thought you looked pretty incredible. When you walked out to the living room and saw Noah dressed as a little prince, your heart melted. 

"Sweet Noah," you gushed as he held onto his treat bag, all ready to go. He was wearing his yellow paper crown that Bradley managed to procure from some unknown spot in the house, and he just looked precious. 

"I like your crown, Mommy," he said, pointing to the gold one you were wearing.

You smiled. "I like my purple paper crown better."

"Don't laugh." You turned to see Bradley standing behind you in his rather ill fitting knight costume. It kind of looked like he was wearing aluminum foil that was a size too small, but he had a smile on his face, and his costume crinkled when you hugged him. "Hey, Mav and Penny are planning to stop by to take some photos with Noah, but if you want me to call them back and tell them we just want a quiet evening, I can do that."

You shook your head against his crunchy costume as you laughed. "We should tell them about the baby when they get here."

"Yeah?" he asked excitedly. "You want to?"

"I mean, Nat and Javy know. Dr. Kelly knows. I think Mav and Penny should know now, too."

"I love this idea," he whispered, letting his fingers gently glide along the front of your dress. "You're feeling better now?"

You nodded, but Noah didn't really let you answer before he started clapping as he looked out the front door. "Aunt Natasha is back!" 

She walked in dressed as a jester and picked Noah up to give him a kiss. A minute later, Maverick, Penny and Amelia were all there as well, and phones were being passed around along with Noah, because everyone wanted their picture with the tiny prince. 

"Okay, let me take one of everyone in front of the pumpkins on the porch," Bradley said as he collected a few phones in his hands and headed outside. He smirked at you as he added, "Everyone needs to squeeze together a little bit more. Make sure both of my kids are in there."

"Both?" Penny asked before she gasped, and the first photo Bradley took was of her turning to look at you with wide eyes. "Both?!"

"I'm pregnant," you announced with a smile, and the second photo Bradley took was of everyone else with wide eyes, too. And he snapped a few more where Nat was holding Noah with a grin on her face while the others all hugged you.

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

After a brief argument on your end, Bradley managed to get you and Noah both settled into the oversized wagon he bought earlier this afternoon. Then he clipped Skittles' leash on before attaching her tiny crown to her head. "There we go. The royal family is now complete."

"Have fun!" Nat called out, waving from the front porch with the bowl of candy, already crowded with neighborhood kids looking for their treats. 

"I don't need to be pulled in a wagon all night," you protested as Bradley scoffed.

"What kind of knight would I be if I wasn't doting on the two of you." Skittles barked, so he added, "I meant the three of you."

"Four," you said, pointing to your belly as he pulled the wagon down the driveway. 

"My point is," he said loudly, "I will be doting on my entire family all night long, and there's nothing you can do about it. Please keep your arms and legs inside the royal carriage until we come to a complete stop."

He very dutifully pulled up to each house before lifting Noah out and taking him up to collect his piece of candy. Bradley got the chance to enjoy so many of his neighbors telling him how sweet his son looked, and he kept reminding Noah to say thank you. After about an hour, two treat bags had been filled up with candy, and you looked like you were having fun. You even started waving from the wagon at everyone you passed like a real princess would.

"This is really fun," you said, holding on to Noah as Bradley turned another corner. 

"I love Halloween!" his son shouted. 

Truthfully, it was a bit of a challenge for Bradley to pull the wagon, keep Skittles from barking at the other kids, and take Noah up to each house and back, but he wasn't about to complain. Not after everything you'd done and been through while he was in Japan. But he would sleep well tonight. That was a given. 

"I think this was the last house," Bradley said, stifling his own yawn. "Feel like chatting about our wedding on the way back home?" he asked as Noah yawned as well and settled down in the wagon with you.

It was hard to read your face in the darkness. "What do you want to chat about?" you asked softly.

"How soon will you let me marry you?"

You laughed and said, "How soon do you want to get married?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Hmm," you hummed. "Seems like that would be short notice for wedding guests."

"We don't need wedding guests," he said, and he meant it. "You still want to use our backyard?"

"Yes."

Bradley slowed down over a particularly uneven part of the sidewalk. "Are you still set on Valentine's Day?  Because I'm thinking Christmas."

"Christmas?" you repeated. "Like less than two months from now?"

Bradley pulled the wagon up the driveway past the Bronco, and of course Noah was sound asleep. As soon as he scooped his son off of your lap, Nat came rushing over from her seat on the porch. "I can get him changed and put him in bed."

He didn't argue with her, rather he handed Noah off and focused on helping you out of the wagon. "Yeah. Less than two months from now. I keep thinking about how you threw me a Christmas in July birthday party. We could have a Christmas wedding, too. And after that, we can start the adoption process."

You moaned his name as he took your hand and headed for the house. "You know the way to my heart is through Noah."

He straightened out your crown, still rather fond of your purple one which was sitting safely on his dresser. "Is that a yes?" he whispered, kissing you softly while a few remaining kids ran down the sidewalk laughing. "We can make it official? And I can take care of you forever?"

"Yes."

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

Bradley helped you out of your princess costume after he stripped out of his knight costume, and his lips met the bare skin of your shoulder immediately. "I love you," he murmured, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the bed. But it didn't feel sexual. You knew that wasn't why he was being exceptionally wonderful right now.

"I love you, too."

His forehead came to rest against yours, and his hands were so gentle on your hips. "I'm just relieved to be home. And I'm sorry I wasn't here last week. If something worse had happened to you while I was gone, when you really needed me, I don't know what I would have done."

"We're all okay," you whispered, pushing him until he was sitting down on the bed looking up at you. "And I feel a lot better since I've been resting more." Your skin felt warm and tingly as he kissed you. Six weeks was a long time, and you knew Bradley hadn't even had access to all of the photos and videos on his phone to keep him company. And you did want it to feel sexual, because you missed every bit of him.

"Lay back on your pillow and wait for me," you told Bradley with a smile, using his words against him. 

He did as he was told and patted the spot next to him as he said, "Does that mean you're ready to snuggle with me?"

"Something like that, Daddy."

As soon as you licked your lips and reached for the front of his sweatpants, his eyes went wider. "No, Baby. You don't have to do that."

"I want to," you promised, pulling the fabric down to reveal his soft length. He still looked delicious even like this. You desperately wanted him in your mouth. You met his eyes and whispered, "Please?"

He was panting softly, the rise and fall of his chest so alluring even through his undershirt. He moaned your name and made a strangled sound before he reached for your hand. When he sat up slowly and kissed you gently, he placed your hand on his cock, and he immediately throbbed for you. 

As you rubbed your thumb down his length and along his balls, he grew harder. "You missed me touching you like this," you sang in a quiet voice, watching him as he watched your hand. When his eyes flitted back to your face he nodded. "Tell me you did, Bradley."

He swallowed hard, and his voice was so raspy, your hand faltered. "I missed you like this. I thought about your body when I touched myself, but my hands aren't as soft and perfect as yours."

"Daddy," you whimpered, leaning down to kiss away his precum before taking him between your lips.

But he continued on as you sucked, driving you as wild as you were driving him. "I thought about you with a pregnant belly. I thought about how much I'm going to love fucking you when you're big and round. Big because of my baby."

You took him deep, letting him tap the back of your throat as you saw stars along your vision. "Fuck! Princess! I'm not even gonna last."

Slowly, you let your lips glide back up his length, sucking all the way to his tip. "Then just go ahead and come, Daddy. I want you to."

When he collapsed back against the pillow and tucked one arm beneath his head, you took him deep again. He wasn't kidding, because you could see the veins in his neck as his face grew pink, and you knew he was already close. You didn't rush him along, but you bobbed to a pace that left him grabbing at the bedding with his free hand.

"Baby!" he whined, rolling his hips up until you were starting to gag, and then he came. You were sputtering, swallowing him down as quickly as you could as your name fell from his lips over and over again. "Come up here," he demanded, and when you crawled toward him as you licked your lips clean, he gathered you carefully in his arms.

You never felt as loved as you did when you were with him. His body was perfectly warm and everything you had been missing. His voice calmed every part of you. "December," he whispered as he played with your engagement ring. It took you a moment to realize what he meant as he kissed at your lips. "December. We'll get married. We'll all be Bradshaws. Me and you and Noah and the baby. That's all I need."

"And Skittles."

"Please. She's my best non-human friend. It's unspoken."

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

When Bradley promised to meet you at your lunchtime appointment with your obstetrician on Wednesday, you were a little skeptical. 

"Even if I have to flip off Admiral Simpson and tell him to go fuck himself, I will be there."

You had laughed at the time, but you should have known he wouldn't miss a chance to interrogate your doctor in his flight suit. He stood next to you as you were told to lie back on the table for a pelvic exam, and he kept his eyes on you through the uncomfortable experience, looking down at you like you were the best thing in the world. 

"Does she need another progesterone shot today?" he asked softly as you reached for his hand. "And are you going to monitor her with more appointments? And will we get to see an ultrasound?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Your doctor looked at you and said, "We'll monitor you more closely even after you're done with the injections. We are going to consider you high risk."

"High risk?" you gasped. "That sounds very bad."

"It's not!" he insisted as he guided you to sit up a little bit. "It just means you and the baby get extra attention."

Bradley looked the doctor in the eye and said, "She wants to go to Disneyland for a day or two. Is that even okay?"

You were ready to pout and tell both of them that you felt fine now. There had been no more blood. You were getting plenty of rest. Then he said the words you'd been hoping to hear. "Disneyland would be fine. Just don't overdo it."

"Yes!" you cheered. "Noah will be so excited! Let's go for Thanksgiving!"

Bradley opened his mouth, and you could tell he wanted to protest, but your doctor started to spread gel on your belly, and then the baby was visible on the screen on the wall when the ultrasound started up. "Oh damn," Bradley whispered, suddenly mesmerized by what he saw as he gripped your hand tighter. "Look at the heartbeat. Look at the baby."

"Does he or she look healthy?" you asked, mesmerized as well.

"Very healthy, but we will keep a close eye on things."

When Bradley walked you back to your car which was parked next to the Bronco, you pulled him to a stop. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and your scrubs rubbed gently against his flight suit. "Will you please let me plan a few days at Disneyland?"

"Two days," he replied immediately, clearly already resigned to his fate. "And you have to stay hydrated. And if you even start to look tired, I'm going to push you around in a wheelchair. And if you say anything hurts, we're leaving immediately."

"Disney!" you practically screamed as you bobbed up and down in his grasp and kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to tell Noah! I'll see you at home later, Daddy."

"I'll pick Noah up along with dinner. When I get home you better have your feet up and a glass of water in your hand."

"I will," you promised, matching his serious expression with one of your own. "I'll be very careful. And I'll plan our little vacation. And you'll take exceptional care of everything else."

"You know I will."

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

We should all have a Bradley in our lives to let us rest and heal when we need to. That man is going to take care of everything and probably plan a wedding, too. Is Nat also going to Disneyland? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 58

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[mrsbarnesblog]

girls' night

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Soft!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: your boyfriend is now really happy that you want to go to the club with your friends without him.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: kinda +18? mentions of sex, drinking, reader is slightly drunk, Rafe's being needy and horny

Author's note: sooo, i'm happy to introduce you my new crush (idk how did i live without him tbh). I haven't even finished watching obx, but Rafe/Drew holds me in a chokehold. I had no choice but to write something because the voices in my head became too loud lmao. so yeah, I hope you enjoy my version of him💘

“I won’t be there for too long, baby. Don’t be so dramatic.” You softly laughed while you applied your lip gloss in front of the mirror. Through reflection, you saw your not-so-happy boyfriend sitting at the edge of the bed, eyeing your outfit with a pout. 

“Do you have to wear that? Couldn’t you wear like sweatpants or something?” Rafe mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes looked up and down your body from the back, stopping at the edge of your pretty dress that barely covered your ass. “And why can’t I at least go with you? Give me a reason.”

“Because it’s a girls’ night. Boys are not allowed. We just want to go somewhere, talk, drink cocktails and dance. What are you gonna do there anyway?” You took a last look at yourself before grabbing a purse and coming closer to Rafe. 

“Your point is weak as fuck, princess.” He rolled his eyes. “You know I hate it when you go somewhere alone. Especially looking like a fucking desert. Especially when there are tons of dumbasses who think they can hit on you.” Rafe’s voice was gruff but you knew that he wasn’t angry at you. 

Despite the rumors about Rafe being a total asshole, he had never treated you even remotely badly. Well, you were the only person who was blessed with his soft and caring side. Rafe was the best boyfriend you could’ve possibly asked for, even with his mood swings. He was so overprotective and he got really panicked just at the thought that something might happen to you. 

You stepped closer, now standing in between his legs, and put your hands on both sides of his face to make him look at you. Two large hands immediately flew to your hips as Rafe soothingly rubbed your skin through the material of the dress. 

“You trust me, right? You know I don’t care about them. I want only you.” You smiled at him, leaning lower and touching his nose with yours. Rafe exhaled, bringing your body closer to his and lowering his head into your neck. 

“Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust everyone else.” You smiled at his words, burying your right hand in his hair. “Fine, if you don’t wanna stay here tonight and ride my face for hours and then get fuc—“

“Rafe!” Your laughter filled the room as you pulled away and slightly slapped his shoulder. “You're disgusting, you know that, hm?” 

“You didn’t mind me saying it this morning.” He shrugged, half serious. 

“Fine, you big baby. I am going out with my girls right now, and you can do whatever you want with me afterwards. Deal?” You offered him a pinky. That man was ready to have sex 24/7 so you knew that you had no choice but to give him something, otherwise, he would bother you for hours. 

Rafe curiously looked from your eyes to your finger, but then finally gave up, wrapping his pinky with yours. 

“Deal. Just be safe, baby. Call me if something happens. Promise that you will.” 

“I will.” A smile stretched across your face as your heart flattered inside your chest with love and warmth. 

The night was amazing. You met with your friends who you hadn’t had a chance to hang out with for a few weeks and all of you were dancing and laughing for what felt like eternity. 

It took you forever to climb the stairs to your and Rafe’s bedroom in the big ass house that you were living in. You hoped that he was already sleeping, but even your drunk brain understood how ridiculous this thought was. Your boyfriend would never go to bed without you by his side. 

“You said that you wouldn’t be there for too long, Y/N.” Rafe said as soon as you stepped into the room, holding your heels in your hand. The clock showed that it was almost 1am, and you slightly shook your foggy head to figure out how long you spent in the bar. 

“I’m sorry, baby. But it was sooo fun! We had such a great time.” You laughed, tossing your shoes on the floor and slipping out of your dress, standing only in your underwear. 

As much as Rafe wanted to be mad or argue, he couldn’t. He felt ill just thinking about you alone in the club without him, but you were clearly happy. Drunk, with flushed cheeks and sparkly eyes. You looked so pretty, and now seeing you without that goddamn dress only in a blue lingerie set that he had bought you not so long ago made him hard within seconds. 

You went to your vanity to take off your makeup with wet wipes, barely having any more power to stand. Rafe stood up from his place on the bed, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your body. 

“You look so fucking hot, baby. I want you so bad.” You felt warm lips leaving light kisses on the side of your neck while hardness pressed against your lower back. 

“Noo, Rafe. I’m so tired and drunk right now. I want to go to sleep. Let’s do it tomorrow, please?” You whined, still moving your head to give him more free space on your neck. 

“My dick is going to explode. I haven’t touched you since morning.” He grumbled, brows furrowed, as you quickly slipped out of his arms and dove under the blanket on the abnormally large bed. 

Your eyes trailed back to your boyfriend, who was obviously annoyed and tired but still had a visible boner. This thought made you giggle again while Rafe muttered something under his nose, running a hand through his hair. If you weren’t in such a state of mind, you would’ve definitely found it hot. 

Yeah, annoyed Rafe was your guilty pleasure.

“Can you, like, do it while I’m sleeping? Just don’t wake me up.” You lazily asked, almost drifting to sleep. 

“Excuse me? Who do you think I am?” Rafe’s brows shot up, genuinely shocked that you really suggested that. “I’m not fucking you while you’re unconscious, babe! What the fuck?” 

“Then wait for tomorrow and come cuddle with me.” 

He looked at you for a few seconds in silence. You were almost asleep, snuggling into the pillow and Rafe had no power in him to not find you adorable. He threw his head back in defeat, then removed his clothes and winced as he realized how long it would take for his dick to calm down.

He slipped beside you into the bed, turning off the light. On instinct, you moved closer to him, your head on his naked chest and your hands wrapped around his torso. 

“‘m sorry, Rafey.” You mumbled against his skin. “I promise that tomorrow I'll be all yours.”

Rafe sighed, kissing the top of your head and hugging you back. A soft smile crept onto his face when he heard you almost purring under his touch. “Mhm, you’re lucky that I love you, princess. So, so much. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I love you too. So, so much.”

[nyrandrea]

No because he is as well, I adore the way he was written!! I was the same gigglin n kickin my feet each n everytime 😭

But can I ask for a request then, so say reader n Astarion ( plus two others ) are in an fight and reader just gets badly injured n knocked out and he just loses it killing anyone in his path to get to reader caring about them agshdudisowowi

Thanks so much for the request! I had quite a bit of fun writing this prompt.

Few warnings for canon-typical violence, blood, injury and animal death. Yyyyeah it is quite the doozy.

Word Count - 1.9k

Hope you enjoy!

xxx

The moon hung low in the starlit sky, its pale light casting ghostly shadows upon a narrow, winding mountain path. You and your party had been travelling all day as you wanted to cover more considerable ground to make up for time lost due to camping. However, the physical toll it was taking on everyone was starting to show as you all moved cautiously through the rugged terrain. 

Lae’zel was understandably the most resilient of the group, her tough demeanor betrayed only by the beads of sweat that trailed down her knitted eyebrows as she focused on conquering the path ahead. Shadowheart seemed to be driven purely by spite just to keep up with the githyanki; you almost had to fight her a few times just to get her to stop and catch her breath before she keeled over.  

You were feeling pretty run down yourself, every step felt heavier as time dragged on and your muscles were screaming at you to stop, but if you made it to that rock, to that tree, just over the hill, across the river, only then could you rest. 

You said that about ten rocks and five rivers ago. 

“That’s it!” A familiar voice shouted out from behind you, and you instinctively rolled your eyes.��“I can’t take this anymore.” 

Turning around, you were greeted with the sorry sight of Astarion collapsing onto his knees and huffing for breath, and it seemed as if he wasn’t going to get back up anytime soon.  

“Astarion-” 

“Don’t you ‘Astarion’ me with that... little disappointed pout of yours,” the vampire said. “I am literally on my knees begging here, darling. We need to stop for the night.” 

“As sad as your little theatrics are,” Shadowheart walked over to the two of you and smirked down at him before turning to you. “He does have a point. We’ve been walking all day; I think I lost all feeling in my feet about half an hour ago.”  

“And you say he is the dramatic one?” Lae’zel cut in, sneering down at you from a higher ledge. “Look at you all, complaining like children. This is nothing compared to-” 

“Yes, yes, you have endured a horrendous array of training throughout your arduous upbringing on the Astral Plane that has transformed you into the fearsome warrior you are today; we get it,” Astarion said sarcastically, earning a snort of laughter from Shadowheart and a scowl from yourself. “But I for one am not made of pure titanium and would like to rest.” 

“Fine,” Lae’zel growled. “But if the ghaik tadpole decides to turn your insides out because of your time wasting, then I shall be all too happy to end your life.” 

“It’s a deal, darling.” 

With everyone in agreement, you relieved yourself of your heavy backpack and quickly got to work on setting up a makeshift camp. Dinner was a small, cooked rabbit to share, while Astarion waited patiently for you to finish until you let him drink his fill. You didn’t miss the concerned glance shared between Shadowheart and Lae’zel but said nothing. 

As the darkness deepened and the others retired for the evening, you decided you didn’t quite want to go to sleep quite yet— a decision you were probably going to regret come morning. Regardless, the stars were out tonight, and you weren’t certain when you might next get to enjoy them during this treacherous journey, if ever. 

The tadpole behind your eye wriggled slightly, and you were worried it was going to waste your night with a migraine and unwanted whispers, but instead it settled down. You huff a sigh of relief; you were spared, for tonight anyway. 

Despite the sky above being a sight to behold, your eyes couldn’t help but keep wandering down. Astarion was sitting across from you, his eyes creased and lips in a tight line as he concentrated on the ghastly book spread across his lap. The Necromancy of Thay had been his focus of attention for these past few nights, and you were honestly starting to worry a little for him. Sure, it was you who had given it to him in the first place (after he practically begged you for it), but the way he hyper focused on it at times was... concerning, to say the least. 

You clear your throat, hoping to catch his attention. 

It doesn’t work; you try again. 

“Oh, do shut up...!” 

His sharp tone makes you recoil slightly, and the vampire mirrors you, glancing between you and the book with widened eyes. 

“O-Oh no, I didn’t mean you, my dear. It’s this blasted book,” Astarion says, frowning down at it like a disappointed parent. “I can’t make heads or tails of the damn thing.” 

“Do you... need some help?” You meekly offer, even though you didn’t know the first thing about necromancy; some things were just best left untouched in your opinion. 

“You’re a sweetheart,” he breathes out a little chuckle. “But no.” He allows the book to close with a heavy thump before his eyes trail back up, lingering on you for a moment. “But I could do with a... little distraction.” 

As the fire crackles and pops, your cheeks flare up as Astarion slowly crawls his way around, not stopping until he is only inches away from you. Not quite knowing what to do or where to look, your body goes stiff as he slowly leans in towards you.  

“What do you think, hm?” he purrs, his knuckle softly caressing your cheekbone as he brushes away a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Shall we have a little fun?” 

You nod shyly and allow him to draw you in as he cups your face and brushes his lips against yours, only to suddenly stiffen and pull away. A surge of panic jabs up from under your ribs as you’re worried that, somehow, you’ve done something to hurt him or put him off. 

“I-I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “Are you okay?” 

He eases your fretting by smoothing down your arms with an almost amused expression. “No, it’s not you, never you, I can’t stress that enough but there’s... something-,” he frowns and sniffs the air.  

Oh Gods, did you stink? You knew it had been a while since you last washed but… 

No, his attention was away from you as he quickly got to his feet and focused on what appeared to be a large boulder of sorts, about ten feet away from where you lay. 

Astarion’s eyes widen, and for the first time in a long time, he looks terrified. 

“Shit, he’s found me again. We’ve got to leave, now!” 

Suddenly, like vipers striking from the shadows, a group of monster hunters descended upon you, the night erupting into chaos as they sprang into action with ruthless efficiency. Swords and daggers glinted ominously in the dim firelight as you and the others desperately tried to defend yourselves. 

Fear and confusion gripped the group as you fought back against your assailants, but the element of surprise was with the ambushers. They moved with a deadly grace; their tactics honed through countless skirmishes. The clash of steel and cries of anguish pierced the night air.  

Desperation fueled your resistance, but they outnumbered you five to one, and that was without including their attack dogs, who had taken to separating you from the rest of the group as their personal prey. You jab your sword at their snapping maws, shout and try to make yourself look big to fend them off or, at the very least, make them think twice about attacking you.  

However, none of it seems to work as one takes a lunge at you and sinks their jaws into your arm. The jolt of shock quickly wore off to the searing heat of pain as the dog tugged and shook you like a rag doll, the beast spurred on by the snarls and barks of the others before they joined in on the mauling. 

You tried to scream but it hurt to even breathe, reducing you to mere gasping as your limbs throbbed and your head pounded. You thought you heard screaming, but the chaos of the battle muffled your senses as if you were being held underwater. You fall flat on your back as you’re pinned down to the ground, your eyes fluttering as something hot, wet and slimy drips onto your cheeks. Your eyes are met with a row of fangs; you shut them quickly, unwilling to look your death in the face. 

In that moment, an anguished cry cuts through the noise, and your eyes snap open. 

The next few moments are a blurry, bloody mess; primal and violent as you can just make out different voices—the hunter’s voices— crying out in pain along with the sound of wet tearing, of fangs ripping into flesh and blood splattering across the ground. You can only stare ahead, eyes wide with fear and body numb as the heavy weight on your chest is suddenly lifted. There’s a pitiful whine and a crunching snap, and the carnage finally stops. 

After a few moments of unbearable silence, your jumbled thoughts immediately go to your teammates, and you try to push yourself up to go help them. They were probably hurt, or worse, dead. You had to get up. Just... get up! 

‘Get up!’ 

“Get up goddamn you!” 

Your blurred vision slowly cleared as you blinked away your tears, and a familiar, blood-splattered face came into view. Gods but Astarion looked so afraid; his red eyes were wet, and his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as he gently slid his hands under your broken body to help you sit up. 

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he whispered. “He... he will not take you away from me. I won’t let him.” He looks over his shoulder and shouts, “Cleric, get over here now!” 

His lips curled into a snarl as Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, as if he was frustrated that she wasn’t healing you quick enough. As if to confirm, he snaps at her to hurry up. 

“Shouting at me isn’t going to make the process go any quicker, I need to concentrate,” Shadowheart bit back, before her gaze softened upon you as a golden light washed out from her hands and over your body. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?” 

“She is right, you must calm yourself,” Lae’zel softly ordered Astarion as she knelt by your other side. “You have already taken your rage out on the enemy, do not let it overtake you.” 

Astarion said nothing as he focused solely on you, whispering hushed promises and honeyed words that got jumbled through your dazed state, but you appreciated them all the same. You tried to show him this by curling your stiff fingers around his, the coolness of his skin bringing a brief respite to your burning hot hands. He breathes out a sad, broken chuckle and reciprocates your gesture with a soft kiss to your fingers. 

The moon bore witness to the tragedy, casting its cold, indifferent light upon the scene, but you thought it shone beautifully, all the same. 

xxx

[spookyrea]

face of gold, heart of coal (my cross to bear, baby!)

You and Loki have an agreement - just sex with absolutely no feelings. None. Nu-uh. Zero.

(Unfortunately you both signed that agreement with your fingers crossed)

Word count: ~2k

Warnings: fem reader - plot? what plot? p-i-v sex, oral (f receiving), hate sex (kind of. 'hate' if the definition of hate was 'longing so profound it makes you mad'.)

“If only our team could see you right now. Whoring yourself out to me. Your big, bad villain.”

“Not so bad,” you bit out. “You’re nothing but a lap dog.”

“Boo. Another lazy insult,” he snorted. “Big, though?”

He pulled your hand down to palm at the length of him, straining against the fabric of his trousers. You shrugged, even as your thighs clenched in anticipation. “Eh.”

Loki laughed, closing his mouth over yours in a wet kiss. “I seem to recall you singing a different song a few days ago.”

“Your memory is failing you. Dementia, maybe? That’s pretty common with men your age.”

His upper lip curled. He dropped your wrist to gather your skirt in his hands, hiking it up to your waist. “Hold this,” he commanded.

You bunched the fabric in one hand. With his hands now unoccupied, he traced the inside of your thighs slowly, tipping your hips upwards to get a better look at your clothed mound. Both of his thumbs slid over the cotton fabric of your underwear, reverently in comparison to the way he had demanded your submission. They pressed gingerly, barely pulling your folds apart before pressing them back, working in circular motions around your clit but not quite over it. His eyes were half-lidded, transfixed on the way his fingertips spread wide over your hips, on the twitch of your tense muscles, on how you gave yourself up to him angrily and willingly.

You stifled a whine, hoping he wouldn’t notice - but he did. Loki always noticed; every gasp, every lingering look, every shiver when his hand brushed over yours - he saw it all. He could read you like a book, something that both infuriated and secretly delighted you, to be seen and understood so completely. 

Loki mimicked you, scrunching his face up in a patronizing pout. One hand rose to pinch your cheeks, holding your head still while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. “Oh boo hoo. Woe is me. Please, Loki, have mercy.”

You hissed, digging your knuckles into his abdomen. He laughed in response, dragging his nose across your jaw before sucking a mark under your ear. Your voice came out thready despite your best efforts, a casualty of the way his other hand was drawing figure-eights across your thigh. “You cocky bastard.”

“Careful. You speak to me like that again and I might just leave you wanting.”

“You won’t.”

He dipped his head, laving his tongue over the junction of your shoulder and throat. His thumb slid to the side, tracing the damp seat of your underwear with lazy intent. “I won’t?”

“Nope.” You swallowed another embarrassing sound when the meat of his palm ground against you with delicious friction.

“What makes you so certain?”

You tilted your head; distracted as he was by marking up your throat, his hold on your face had loosened enough for you to get your lips around the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger. You scraped your teeth over the delicate skin, delighting in how his body tensed against you. “Because you want me just as badly.”

“You’re finally right about something. Looks like you do have some coherent thoughts in that pretty little brain of yours.”

“Asshole.”

“Tsk. Try harder. I’ll make you a deal - if you call me something creative, I’ll let you come tonight.” He pulled away, his head tipped ever so slightly to the left to admire his handiwork. No doubt your lipstick was smeared across your face at this point, considering how it stained his pale skin from the tip of his nose to the sharp point at the corner of his jaw. “I warn you though, mortal, I’ve been alive for many centuries. I’ve heard it all.”

“Monster,” you tried.

“Old news.”

“Duplicitous snake.”

“Boring.”

“Evil, traitorous coward.”

“It’s starting to look like tonight will only be about me, little thing.” Loki grinned, sliding the tail of his belt through the buckle. It fell open with a clatter against his thigh as he worked the zipper of his slacks down and pushed on your free hand, urging you to take him in your fist and pump him slowly.

“Lover,” you spit.

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘lover’.” Even without his hand guiding yours, you drew your hand back and forth in lazy tugs, arousal pooling, hot and wanting, at the way his stomach jumped, muscles visible through his open shirt. “What a pathetic god. To love a human.”

His eyes crawled down, then back up the length of your body. Slowly, achingly slowly, he slipped from your grasp and sank to his knees in front of you. “Truly debased.”

You ran your fingers through his damp curls, heavy with the humidity of want. “It’s sad, really.”

He tapped the back of your calf, shouldering your leg until you draped it over his back, and pressed a loud kiss to your lower belly. “Clever girl.”

Loki pulled your panties to the side; you would have been embarrassed by the threads of arousal clinging to them if it wasn’t for the way his expression darkened, a clear reverence rolling off of him while his thumb slid over you, pulling your folds apart to get a better look. His pretty eyes were awash with desire, burning a hot and syrupy trail as they traveled from the mess between your thighs to your face.

You smoothed a curl out of his eyes and watched him tip his head, pressing a loud kiss just beside your clit. He took his time teasing his mouth over you, alternating between licking long stripes and sliding sloppy kisses over slick, heated skin. The hand around your thigh clutched you in a bruising grip, holding you against his shoulder like you might slip away if he let go. His other hand slipped between his own legs and worked slowly up and down his cock.

You tipped your head back against the wall. “You’re enjoying this.”

His grip tightened. “Shut up.”

Loki squeezed his eyes tight, desperation clear in the way he tipped his head for a better angle. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, pulling a thready gasp from your chest. You felt a familiar coil between your hips, winding and winding as he worked you more urgently; occasionally you felt his forearm bump against your shin while he pumped his cock in time with rolls of your hips.

You grew delirious. Your legs shook, struggling to hold you upright. You planted your hand on his shoulder for support, back bowing off the wall with the force of your impending orgasm. Loki laughed against you, the sound humming over your skin in the most delicious way. 

You found no relief in his mouth; he seemed only to wind you higher and higher but never to the edge. Your chest heaved, pleasure turning desperate and achy. You pushed on his forehead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. “Stop. Loki, it’s not… I need…”

He paused, his mouth still pressed against you. His eyes scanned yours curiously, brimming with mischief, before he gave one final flick of his tongue. You clenched, hissing through your teeth, and squirmed away. His shoulders shook with laughter under your leg. Loki turned his cheek into your thigh and drew his wet chin across your skin, leaving an uncomfortable sticky path in his wake.

“Get -” Your order stuttered and died on your tongue when he bit down on your hip. “Get back up here.”

“So bossy.”

“You want me so bad, Laufeyson.”

“So, so badly,” he hummed mockingly.

You let him nudge his way between your legs, lining his hips up with yours to guide himself inside you. There was an initial pressure, that familiar press before your body yielded to him and he slid down to the hilt. 

He groaned once his hips met yours and, privately, you agreed. There was something electric about him, as if he had rewritten the polarity of your nerves so they yearned in his direction. He was an asshole - arrogant, stubborn, untrusting - but there was such an aching kindness in the way his fingers trailed over your skin that it left you feeling raw and oozy. 

A self-deprecating laugh hissed through his teeth when your fingers wound through the curls at the back of his skull. Very quietly, he murmured something against your skin.

“What was that?”

“I said I hate you.”

“Right.” His hips rolled against you slowly, testing you. “Come on, lover,” you goaded him on. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

He groaned. “One day you’ll let me make love to you.” 

You gasped when he thrust into you, jolting you up the wall. He set a brutal pace, tugging your body down onto him with every sharp jerk of his hips. You twined your arms around his neck for support and tried to leverage your weight against him, shifting so he was angled to bump against that soft spot inside you that made your knees buckle. The sob that ripped through you when he finally connected seemed to spur him on, working him into a frenzy.

“One day you’ll let me do this in a bed. In my bed. No, actually, in our bed. Now, tell me what you feel.” Loki punctuated the order with a kiss, though you were both moving too much to get any further than a brush of open, panting mouths.

You nodded dumbly. “It’s- it’s good. So- oh, right there. Please.”

“Yes. Beg for me.”

Annoyance turned over in your belly. You scraped your teeth along his jaw. “Asshole.”

Loki pulled your body to a sudden stop, his cock buried to the hilt deep inside of you. His head cocked menacingly to the side.

“Hmm.” He gave an experimental roll of his hips. “You’re lucky you make the most fantastic sounds when you come. And I do so very, very badly want to hear them. So sing. Praise, this time, little mortal.”

His thumb pressed meanly against your clit. Each jerk of his hips against you made you bump against the calloused skin, a delicious but not-quite satisfying pressure. 

“You want me so badly. I could have you eating out of the palm of my hand. But I’m merciful. I won’t make you do that.” Loki licked a hot stripe up the side of your throat. “I’ll just fuck you instead. Now come on.”

Your face scrunched up, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. You’d given up on stifling any sounds you made, letting broken, wanton sounds tumble from your mouth with each nudge of his thumb against your clit. Your chest ached, your breaths thready and gasping, barely sucking in air before it escaped you as a squeal or a sigh. Your thighs shook with the force of it all, body gone taut and boneless all at once.

You pulled him in as tightly as you could as you came, burying your nose in his throat, seeking some tether to ground yourself by. It was all too much - too hot, too sweaty, too bright, too good. You needed him to come. You needed him to stay. You needed, needed, needed.

Loki stumbled into his climax and stilled after a few more sloppy thrusts, winding his arms around your back to properly ensnare you. His breath licked over your skin and left goosebumps to rise in its wake.

You stayed tangled like that for an eternity, slowly winding down back to Earth in the other’s arms. Your fingers traced a shy path down his nape while his hands slid up and down your sides placatingly.

Eventually, he set you down on your feet. His hands smoothed down your skirt before tucking himself away in his slacks. Your voice was small as you watched him loop his belt back through the buckle. “I get closer and closer every day.”

“To what? First-degree murder?” He turned his face up to yours, a joking tilt to his brows. Something in your expression gave him pause, the smile melting off of him. He smoothed out the front of his slacks and then put his hand on your shoulders, leveling you with an unreadable look. “Really?”

You nodded mutely, turning your eyes to the floor. He tipped your face up to keep them trained on him.

“Ask me,” you murmured.

“Make love to me, darling.”

You paused, drawing the moment out. “Maybe. If you’re a good boy.”

He sighed, a long-suffering sound. “You vex me.”

[wintrwinchestr]

bite the hand

the killer & the sound - chapter 3

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

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

word count: 13.2k

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

series masterlist

read this chapter on ao3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Jesus Christ, what the hell is he doing?

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he is so fucked.

—

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it is.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You assumed wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, for my own good?”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t get to back out of this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh…? Yeah, just gimme a–”

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

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

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

“Sorry! Sorry, Joel. It’s just, uh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Coward.

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe it does.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But only time will tell.

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[msxrik]

Hii, I just came across your masacrik x reader post, it was AMAZINGGG! It’s so hard to find a post on him😭

anyway, I was wondering if I could request a masacrik x playful and disobedient rabbit(ish?) reader smut? Where reader constantly annoys him, only to snicker when he gets angry. So one day he puts her in her place.

Ex: she messes with his tools while he’s experimenting or knocks over important things/Stuff.

(Sorry it’s long, feel free to ignore<3)

HAII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST. ILL DO MY BEST

Masacrik x Bunny!reader

Cw: kinky, choking, bottom masacrik later? Bunny!reader. Blood (only a bit). Mention of a dead body, smut with no plot

Msacarik calls reader Zaika as thats a russian term for bunny

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You knew what this man was capable of but you just didn't care did you? There was no fear in you. Just now, you sat in his Lab. He told you thousands of times that you're not allowed in there but at this point he gave up. You were sitting on a little table with all the tools watching what he was doing. He seemed.. mad. No irritated. Which is not a good sign at all. But you? You decided to use that to break him.

-What are you doing to that guy?-you asked, your hand landing on his head stroking his hair gently

-Zaika, stop distracting me. -he growled. At first when you started acting that way he wanted to scare you. But nothing worked so he just had to accept it. For now.

You on the other hand decided to mess with the already angry doctor more. Knocking off his tools from the table just as he wanted to reach for them. He just clicked his tounge loudly, grabbing you by your collar and slamming you onto the operating table as he kicked down the body off there first

-Ah.. masik...-

-Not a word from you. You are going to face your punishment now dear. -the smirk on his face made you shiver.

-Mmhm i hope it wont disappoint me..-you laughed.

That made Masacrik Snap one of his big hands landed on your neck, as the other one was ripping down the fabric of your skirt

You clawed at his hand for a moment but as he lets go he heard a big Yelp from you,

-You enjoyed that didn't you? Needy bitch. -he whispers unbuttoning his pants.

As he got rid of his clothes-and ripped yours apart- you got dragged by your hair to lay on your stomach with your face near his Dick as he was standing beside the operating table. You knew what to do already deepthroating the doctor which made him shiver and moan silently as he grasped your hair.

Mhm~ keep going, such a good girl for Daddy right..,? Oh fuck.. i might forgive you if this keeps up..~

The praise went straight to your crotch as you choked around his length.

Not long after he came down your throat and pulled out. You as the playful little bunny you are you pulled him by his lab coat and kissed him deeply with his cum still in your mouth. As you pulled away his eyes were wide open

-Zaika.. you're digging your own grave..

-Yeah.. but im the only one who can please you till you start crying doctor

Trying to hide the redness on his face He walked around the table to the side where your legs were hanging off grabbing you by them and switching your position so you were laying on your back. His hands keeping your legs open as he slides inside you

-A-ah~ what. Embarrassed..? -You giggled earning a harsh thrust from him

-awhh~ i love it when you're flustered..-you moaned out as his pace picked up.

The Man only scoffed digging his nails into your thighs drawing blood, but you were right. The lewdness of the whole situation. The way you were squeezing around him moaning like a bitch in heat he wanted to breed you so badly the thoughts got him red in the face and almost falling apart. His hands were shaking a bit. He was moaning- no whining as he was getting close

You bit your lip drawing blood from it. As it trickled down your chin you smiled at him

A-ah Masik.. d-dont- not insidee~

You teased him. You knew you had nothing to say but you wanted to get him going even more.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he grabbed you by the neck squeezing. His other hand played with your chest. The sudden lack of oxygen, the pleasure mixed with pain made you cum around him. But what would it be without you making it a big scene?

You moaned and whined his name scratching his hand.

He came right inside you making sure to stuff you good. After that he pulled away. With the intention the end this "session".

But just as he was about to turn away you sat up on the table and with all your might you grabbed him by his lab coat and slammed him onto the flat surface. He looked at you surprised as you sat on top of him hoovering against his crotch

-What its not like only you get to cum twice masik.. also i hope to see some tears from you-

You moaned the lust clouded over your vision you knew this wasn't gonna end well but the doctor seemed pretty...calm?

You unbuttoned his shirt and started kissing his chest. He covered his face. But he didn't push you away. So you kept going. Undoing his pants and rubbing yourself against his lenght. You made such a mess out of his clothes as the cum was dripping out. But the only thing you cared for was to see him overstimulated at this point

-Mnghh~ zaika~ you're going to regret thi- Haah~

He threw his head back as you slid him inside again. Picking up a harsh pace

Noo no-he sobbed- im still se-sensitive hngg!~

You laughed in his face. Seeing him like that made your whole fear of this man disappear.

-You cryiinn? You're acting like a whore,

He started gripping your waist to stop you from moving whining. Tears streaming down his face.

-S-shut up.. oh im bout to- fuuuck...,~

He moaned out as you stopped moving just as you felt him twitching inside you

Wha-why did you stoop...-He was trying to move his hips on his own but his legs were shaking too much

I dont know if you deserve it masik...

-Yes! Yes i do of course i do! I- please im begging you...

It was unusual of him pleading for anything so you granted his request and started moving again as he threw his head back and came crying out your name.

He was so easy to play with you found it amusing.

As you both calmed down you only heard your name. And looking at his face he seemed pretty mad about this whole situation.

Oh what have you done

/////////////////

Bro i would be shivering in my boots

[ajortga]

i'm not coming home.

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

warning! sensitive topics ahead include: character death, suicide, overdose, massive angst with NO happy ending.

thank you egg for your request! cried a little making this which usually.. isn't quite normal to happen. hope this might make your angst heart pour a little.. p.s this was partially inspired by some other fics i read that i loved and this was particularly based off the lyrics im not coming home, not really my future:o

-

I just saw that song fic you made, it was very nice. So I’d like to request one of my own…

My future by Billie Eilish?

Obviously for my favorite girl Vada Cavell. Who else would I request for?

-

Her eyes looked at the moon, Vada’s brown eyes looking at the way the moon shone across the city.

“The moon is pretty, isn’t it?” A voice said beside her.

Vada's eyes glanced at you, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Yeah. But you were always prettier.”

“You used to say that a lot.”

“I know. It’s because I think it’s true.”

You stood there in silence, Vada scooted closer to you, pointing at the flowers right ahead of you guys.

“Do you remember when we planted those?”

“Yeah, they grew so pretty. We wanted to make a whole flower garden together.”

“The garden is growing I think.”

“I think so too.

Silence once again, the only sound was the dark trees rustling in the blue moonlight, stars above the two’s heads. Vada bit her lip, looking at the stars, her knees tucked under her arms.

“Do you think in another universe, we’d be in love?” You whispered, catching her off guard as she looked at you, seeing the way your eyes looked hurt.

Vada shrugged, thinking for a moment, “I don’t know..”

Another pause.

“Maybe in another universe, I never so badly wished it was this one though.”

She heard a small laugh, hurt laced behind it, “It once was.”

“In this universe we’re not. Because you’re no longer here.”

…

“I know.”

Vada wishes she could take those words back. 

-

Vada needed space to herself after trying to heal from traumatic experiences it was so hard for her to deal with. You were just trying to help.

You were just trying to help.

Offering to hold her hand in the hallways, reassuring back rubs, kisses on the forehead, sticking by her side.

It was too much for her. She just wanted to be left alone, but she didn’t want to tell you.

You just were so worried, you made sure to love her.

The day Vada was the most stressed, she took all her anger out on you for just trying to comfort her.

“Can you stop being arrogant for once and get it into your brain that you need to leave me alone? You have to let me go and it’s getting so frustrating you can’t get that into your system! Just give me my space when I need it!”

Vada’s voice echoes through the house, her eyes looked enraged as she saw the way your figure looked so small.

“Okay.”

That was the last word she heard you say before you left the apartment to just.. Process.

Vada felt bad, seeing the way your shoulders dropped as you walked out the door. But she was just so frustrated with all these events she couldn't bring herself to apologize. She was too tired.

-

Ding

...

Ding

....

Ding ding ding ding ding

"Oh my god.." Vada groaned tiredly, her phone light almost lighting up the whole room as she rubbed her eyes, stirring from bed.

Who the hell would be notifying her at 2:43 AM?

Her hands flipped her phone over as she looked at the messages, the way her eyes widened was indescribable.

my sweet y/n♡: vada they won't go away.

my sweet y/n♡: i'm so scared.

my sweet y/n♡: it won't stop, vada it won't stop.

my sweet y/n♡: i can't breathe

my sweet y/n♡: i just want it to stop.

my sweet y/n♡: baby please i need you. i don't feel good.

4x call missed

my sweet y/n♡: i'm sorry.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you with my whole heart and i promise that you can finally be left alone like you wanted.

"No! No no no no no!.." She said louder to herself, immediately jumping off the bed and hitting the call button. No response.

"Please just pick up!"

She grabbed her keys and slammed the door shut, immediately going to your house with an inhaler and meds.

She kept ringing and ringing as she heard you pick up, immediately putting the phone to her ear.

"Baby! Baby.. Talk to me. Talk to me please."

"...Vada.." you cry, your voice barely a whisper, "It hurts."

"What did you do? Y/N.. Tell me please, what did you do? Did you take something bad?"

"I just.. I..."

Vada hears you breathing heavily, making small hurtful breaths.

"I just wanted everything to stop... I'm so tired.."

"I'm almost there baby.."

Vada makes a full on swerve as she busts out of her car, hearing the way your labored breaths were gradually beginning to grow shakier. The call ends as she makes a plead of frustration. She grabs the keys she snagged when she left the house and frantically unlocked your door.

"Y/N!" she cries, the house was dark as she turned every corner before rushing into your room, barging in.

There you were, curled up on the ground, your arm over your stomach as she saw the way your chest shook, the way you let out cries. There were pills scattered around you, your hand holding a pill bottle that was almost half empty. Vada screamed as she immediately knelt down as you turned.

"Baby, Y/N, wake up!" She cried, shaking you

You were barely able to make a noise, she could only hear you say her name, your voice barely an audible whisper with tear-stained cheeks and glazed over eyes.

Vada let out a painful cry as her hand reached up to caress your now cold skin. You were shaking as Vada picked you up and cradled you, calling the 3 numbers as quickly as she could, begging for the ambulance to come as quickly as they could.

"Everything is going to be okay. Don't close your eyes sweetheart. I promise you'll be okay.."

You curled your body into hers, your head drooping down as you look at her, your vision unfocused.

Oh how your eyes were the ones she loved so much, the ones she loved so much now looking like this. Lifeless, barely hanging on.

"I'm so sorry. Vada's so sorry baby. I should have never said those mean things to you. You mean the w-world to me. I love you so much," The guilt was stirring in her stomach, unlike anything she's seen before.

You whimper against her, "I-I d-don't feel good... I-I feel s-so c-cold.."

Vada sobbed as she wrapped a blanket around your shaking, fragile body, hugging you tightly.

"I'm here. Help is coming," she whispered, looking down at you, fallen tears beginning to drop on your clothes.

Your eyelids were half-open, Vada's voice was beginning to become muffled. You knew Vada was beyond worried, you just wanted everything to stop for a while.. You also knew deep down, you wouldn't be able to make it. You wouldn't be able to make it out alive. You wouldn't be able to spend the rest of your life and marry Vada. Maybe live in the green meadows like you always dreamed of, cuddling as you watched the stars at night. Maybe have had a cat too and looked like the romantic sweethearts everyone envied of, sharing small gentle kisses in the corners of every place you traveled.

You knew you couldn't be with her till her last breath, but you knew she would be with you till yours.

You knew you wouldn't be able to live your love, so you mustered all the left-over strength you still had and croaked out the 3 little words.

"I love you."

You felt it. Vada did too. The way your eyes glassed over, it was no longer the warm, pretty eyes she adored, they were now foggy and dark. The way your body began to lose it's warm comfort that Vada ever so loved feeling when she cuddled you to bed. It was all fading. And she knew your life was fading too.

Vada cried, she didn't want to loose you. She was sobbing and she couldn't do anything about it, she was so so scared.

"I love you too. I love you so fucking much Y/N. I.. I.." She didn't know what else to say, she was so scared that she couldn't speak anymore, wailing.

You gave her the weakest smile you could muster, though she knew that it wasn't the smile you gave her when your eyes would light up as soon as you saw her, it was the smile that you finally understood.

You understood. The cracking smile that showed you were ready.

"That's all my heart can ever ask for. I-I'll be there with you, as a pretty deer in the moonlight, or the shiniest star. I-I'll be there whenever y-you need me.. It was never your fault.." You whispered, before she could see your eyes go still, your shaking body beginning to slow. The last teardrop that would ever fall go down your cheek.

"No! Open your eyes Y/N! Baby! Please! I'm here! You can open your eyes now! Wake up!"

Vada didn't know love could make her cry this hard as she felt your skin turn cold, she wished she could just take it all back. She'd remember you through every memory. But she'd remember that the memories of the person she loved most would never exist in the future. It was all in the past. She knew that you were gone as she cried into the wind. The ambulance was just too late as they saw her hugging your soulless body, never wanting to let go.

"Vada's so sorry.." She cries in a whisper.

-

Vada felt herself sniffle, she could feel the way her memories invaded her brain. She could never forgive herself for it. On every shooting star she wished that it could've never happened in the first place.

She then noticed the way she felt her cheeks suddenly stain with tears, seeing your pretty body fade away in the moonlight above. Seeing the way that you bit down a hurtful expression, smiling with a cracked heart as she sniffled. The night sky is now beginning to reflect through you. 

It was all her fault. She couldn’t bear to hear it. But she knew now that you weren’t going to come home. You never would.

She knew one day you would fade from her mind completely. She couldn’t bear to know that one day, she’d forget the way you sounded.  She knew that one day, your ghost would eventually fade away, your faded presence beginning to slow as time healed. There would be a day that your ghost would stop showing up completely.

She knew that one day, all your memories would turn into months, years, decades.

Until it’ll all be too old for her to remember. To remember you and the way you were the first person Vada felt her stomach tingle with fluttering butterflies as you kissed her so gently. To remember the way you would hold your umbrella for her as it poured rain, seeing the way your forehead would drip with water from protecting her before you could shelter yourself.

"Keep our love special okay? Keep it just between us. Keep it in your heart." You whispered, before you faded away, knowing one day you'll appear once again.

Vada nodded, slowly, she still can't believe she isn't over it. How could she be?

Her hair was wet, she was so used to feeling a hood over her head. She was so used to being protected by you. Rain drenched her clothes as her body shook, staring at the way the city lights dimmed below her. 

She knew that you weren’t going to come home.

Because there she was, sitting on a wet patch of grass, drenched in the rain. Knowing that once before, you sat with her in the rain, holding an umbrella over her head as you hugged her, cuddling for warmth. 

Vada let out a shaky, broken sigh as she looked up, seeing the way the stars shone. One shone so bright as she smiled. Her star.

From the wind blowing so gently in her hair with rain showering across the city, the deer peeked behind the tree, making a soft noise.

"Every night and day I wish I could feel your cuddles, kiss me and tell me it was all a nightmare, but it's been too long to know it's not just stupid nightmare. I miss you more than words can possibly describe."

Vada rubbed her cheeks, wiping the tears that were falling, feeling the rain drizzle with her sadness, making a quiet cry.

"It's been 5 months Y/N. I love you. I wish you were here with me. "

Maybe you wouldn't be with Vada till her last breath, maybe her grieving wouldn't last that long. But she was there for yours, that's all you could ever ask for. Your girlfriend hugging you as you took your last breath. That was special.

[samuraionyourmom]

Nono please add more souloku omegaverse headcanons. I was listening.

Sure! I have many thoughts, so I'm glad to see that others were interested in my ramblings lol. Let's get into it!

Looking at Chuuya, he is clearly someone who could easily have power over others from how strong his ability is, but as we see with the Sheep, he doesn't enjoy it. He doesn't enjoy being in positions of power. What he does enjoy is looking out for others, people he considers his family. Orginally, he thought he had to lead them to that, but as we see at the end of the 15 arc, he learns that isn't the case. I imagine that Chuuya tried very hard to be the big, strong Alpha that one thinks of when hearing the word while he was in the Sheep, but it never felt quite right.

As I see it, I don't think Chuuya would enjoy being the stereotypical Alpha who flaunts their scent all over the place, taking up as much space as they can, being dominate in every sense of the word and reveling in the power they have over others. Chuuya's "Alpha-ness" would manifest as more of a protective feeling rather than a possessive one. He doesn't want to OWN someone, but PROVIDE for them. He wants to be the person they can come to for support. Like, he if he were to smell an Omega in heat, his thoughts wouldn't be that he needed to claim them, but get them to safety. Does that make sense? I hope it does.

At first, this instinct clashed with Dazai because Dazai takes it as Chuuya looking down on him for being an Omega, and rejects it. He doesn't need protection. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself without some bleeding-heart of an Alpha sniffing around in his business. Because from Dazai's point of view, he needs to be in charge of absolutely everything, so he can't afford to be some weak Omega submitting to the will of whatever Alpha he comes across.

They clash and argue because from their respective views, the other is being unreasonable. Chuuya just wants to look out for Dazai, not out of pity, but to be partners that face the world together. Maybe he wants to prove he's capable of protecting people after how badly he failed with the Sheep (and later, the Flags) and sometimes, he pushes past the boundary to the point of being overbearing. Dazai, on the other hand, is fighting with the deep insecurity that he isn't something worthy of being protected, and once Chuuya finds out that he can't do the things other omegas do (he barely has heats anymore and getting pregnant is basically impossible at this point) that he'll leave. So he pushes Chuuya away before he has the chance to get close, snarling and biting with all his might to show him he's wasting his time.

They're both hurting and bad at communicating, but eventually, they learn to let their guard down and say what they're really feeling. Chuuya learns to be less overbearing when it comes to his need to protect, to give Dazai space when he needs it. Dazai learns to let his walls down and let Chuuya see him for who he really is; hurt, but still worthy of love and care. They both don't fit into the expecting that come with their secondary gender, but that's what makes them human.

Tldr; Chuuya isn't the dominating kind of alpha. He prefers to protect and provide for people. Dazai hates his omega qualities and tries to get rid of them, but slowly learns that it isn't something to be ashamed of and learns to let others in and lend a hand.

These always end up being longer than I wanted, lol. I hope this satisfies your desire for more. I love these two so much. They're my babies. I want them to be happy. My boys!!

[testingthewatersss]

Kissing Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. this one is actually pretty tame tbhBucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky can't stop thinking about kissing. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

Kissing is something that Bucky has been fixated on for months, now.

He’s been out of the grips of HYDRA and settled into the tower for just long enough for his mind to be wondering away from the terrors that have been plaguing him ever since he’d first been dragged out of a cryo tank with blood that was on fire, and an arm that wasn’t his own.

At first, the breaks from panic had been so far and few between that he’d quarantined himself in his newly renovated bedroom and only dared to let himself within one metre of Steve, in case he suddenly forgot where he was and caused some kind of irreparable damage, but then, he’d met her…

He hadn’t meant to. He’d made every effort to avoid running into Tony’s younger sister, but then, when he had finally decided to eat, he’d snuck out of his room at three am, and he’d found her, messy haired and sketching at the breakfast bar, he’d been too stunned to run, so he stayed, and despite his initial reservations she’d rapidly become one of the only people in the world that he genuinely trusts.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she coos, beaming at him from across the counter, “you’re starring.”

He is starring— She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and her face is being lit by the sunlight that is just starting to pour in through the big glass windows, and despite himself, he’s been utterly captivated by the way her mouth is curling around the white coffee mug she’s drinking from.

She quirks a brow, and Bucky feels his cheeks burn red and hot as he averts his gaze from her lips.

Kissing, isn’t something he gets to do, no matter how badly he might want to.

They’re alone in the room. It’s early, and, they both know they have a couple of hours until anyone else starts to surface.

Even though he’s blushing, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes roll back up to Y/N’s face, he settles a little when he notices how her attention isn’t on him, it’s split between a book that’s propped open on the counter top and the coffee she’s holding in one of her hands.

Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth, and he finds himself imagining what it would be like to let his thumb hover against the pink-

Stop it, Barnes, he thinks sternly, starring at a dame without her knowin' is creepy enough.

She goes to take another drink, but this time her gaze catches his. She offers him a smile, but he misses it, suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible sensation of being caught doing something wrong; He blurts out a “Sorry” that he hopes might spare him a scolding, and he makes a point of averting his eyes, focusing intently on the grey, marble surface before him.

When a soft hand lands on his cheek, he jolts back, throwing the stool out from under himself and stumbling into the wall with a crash that only startles him further.

He can’t breathe- He can’t think- The sound of something breaking is fresh in the air, and all he knows is that he’s done something wrong, that something bad is coming—

“Hey…” she exhales, calm, “You’re okay, it’s just me, alright? I’m gonna come closer”

Just like that blue eyes are wide, and once again insanely focused on Y/N’s face, though his thoughts are significantly less pleasant, this time around -

“You’re alright, I promise”

Bucky barely hears her, with the way his ears are suddenly thrumming with his panicked pulse, but still, he forces a jerky, obedient nod as the woman takes a cautious step towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him next, “That was my fault- I shouldn’t have touched ya’ without askin’-”

He’s panting, his eyes are wild, and Y/N can see the way that his metal hand is scratching at the smooth surface that he’s backed himself up against.

“Bucky” she calls, a little firmer now, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“Y-Yeah” he gasps, “Yeah — I- I… I’ll— I-” Don’t hurt me, he thinks desperately, I’ll do whatever you want—

A single deep breath is hardly much better than the way he’d been hyperventilating before, but, she thinks, It proves he's listening.

She almost wishes he wasn’t so focused on her, though, because the look on his face is devastating to see—

He’s barely blinking, so she offers him a comforting smile, before showing him both of her hands and taking another, slow, step towards him,

“It’s just me, okay?” she purrs, “Can I touch you, sweetheart? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise”

I’m not going to hurt you

He’s heard that before, more times than he can count, and it’s almost always been followed by cruelty. But this, this is Y/N, and she’s promising him, and she’s never lied to him before.

The nod he gives her is slight, but, definitely there so, she compromises by reaching out slowly, leaving a centimetre between his cheek and the skin of her open palm.

“It’s alright-” she whispers, seeing the conflicted crease in his brow, “-You’re fine.”

Bucky can feel the heat of her hand, he wants to lean in towards her, more than anything, but he’s so used to stillness meaning safety, that he decides not to risk it.

“Shit” he gulps, voice cracking with adrenaline, “I-I didn’t mean to— t-to break anythin’…”

Don’t be angry, he pleads internally, I can't even offer to pay to fix it, I could try, I guess-

Y/N throws a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed anything breaking. Not that it matters. The stool is still lying on the ground, at worst she thinks there might be a crack on the bar, from where he’s grabbed it in his panic, but she can have it's nothing that couldn't be fixed in a matter of hours. She just smiles as she looks back over at him, shaking her head and re-thinking her approach by opening her arms in invitation;

“You're fine-” she repeats, beaming as he starts to move, tentatively shuffling into her embrace, “-C’mere, Buck— did you have a rough night?”

The second he surrenders and lets his brow drop to Y/N’s waiting shoulder, he crumbles. Tears are suddenly burning behind his eyes, so he shuts them, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw aches in his frantic attempt to stop himself from crying.

She feels the change in his posture, and wraps her arms around him, stroking his back slowly, as he fights to control his breathing.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Her question makes his heart stammer urgently. He doesn’t want to lie, but the idea of being honest in with his answer is just as sour somehow.

“I- uh,- tried—” is what he whispers, urgently, into the crook of her neck, “—I swear, it's the beds or, or something, they don't feel like they used to-”

Her heart aches at the crack in his voice, she nods, and whispers out an “I believe you” that works at easing the tension. Something in her tone, whether it’s the gentle lilt of affection, or just the way that she is really not freaked out by this whole encounter is unclear, but it's there and he loves it.

He really just loves it.

“C’mon,” she purrs, pulling back a little, “Wanna eat somethin’, with me?”

Without meaning too, Bucky clings to the fabric of her t-shirt. The idea of losing a fraction of the contact she’s giving him so readily is painful.

She’s not oblivious to the way he’s holding on to her like his life depends on it— she’s known him for long enough to know that he flickers between states of total self-inflicted isolation, and a genuine need for the skin on skin.

It makes sense, really— He’s been touched-starved for god knows how long. He’s been locked up and tortured, and worse for a lifetime, and even though everyone had been warned about his status as HYDRAs ‘attack dog’, she’s always thought that from the second he’d started to trust her, the transition to ‘lap dog’ had been awfully fast.

“I-“ Bucky whispers, “I’m—‘m not- not r-eady” I’m not ready to let go, he thinks urgently, not yet.

“Alright, sweetheart” Y/N replies with the same gentle voice he likes so much, “We've got nowhere to be”

Bucky has no idea how she always seems to know what he needs to hear, but he takes it all the same; and she doesn’t try and draw back again, not when there is no reason for her to rob him of whatever small facet of comfort he’s managing to find in her arms.

She’s more than happy to remind him that he’s with friends, now, and not strangers who hurt him for no reason.

“You got plans for today, Buck?” she asks, once the rise and fall of his chest start to regulate, “Or are you a free-agent?”

“I… t-told Steve I’d check in… he’s— he’s been worryin’ about me”

She laughs at that, quiet and soft against the side of his head.

“He’s been worryin’ about you since 1942”

That makes him crack a smile, it’s small and unsteady, but it’s there, and as he unveils his face from her shoulder, Y/N sees it, and she can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek—

Just like that, his focus is back to kissing.

His eyes are watching the soft curve of her lips, the pressure of her fingers against the skin of his face is drawing him in, and he can almost feel her mouth on his—

Y/N doesn’t question his obvious distraction this time, she just watches patiently as he stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place;

“So…” she exhales, “…Once you’ve let Cap’ seen you’re not in mortal peril, you wanna come hang out with me in my lab?”

“Yes,” he bursts, eager to agree, “yes, p-please I— I’d… I’d like that a lot—”

Bucky loves Y/N’s lab.

He loves the way that it’s full of incredible things that she makes an effort to explain to him, over and over again, even though he barely ever understands it anyway. He loves the way he knows where he can go, and what he can touch, and how it never feels like he’s going to get into some kind of trouble for existing in there, but more than any of that, he thinks, he loves her. He loves her being there, beside him, chattering away like he’s not broken, and touching her hand against his like he hasn’t murdered people twice her size—

“I was hopin’ you might…” Y/N coos happily, snapping his attention firmly back to her face, “…You never know-” she adds, “-You might even manage to get some rest on one of the couches-”

He shoots her a longing glance and hopes earnestly that she doesn’t know how infatuated with her he is. He suspects that she does know, though, when she leans in and presses her lips against his brow.

Kissing.

Y/N is kissing him.

It only lasts a second, but it makes his breathing stop all the same.

When she pulls back, grinning and still stroking his jaw with her thumb, he feels whatever had been left of his resolve shattering.

“If you're breakin' out the puppy dog eyes” she coos, genuinely concerned by the way tears are suddenly filling his eyes, “you must want somethin'... huh? what? You wanna head down right now?”

That's exactly what he wants.

He nods, sniffing lamely as he tries not to blink in case any more emotion spreads across his face. Y/N doesn’t say anything else, she just looks over at the elevator door and waits for him to pad away from her hands, towards it.

It doesn’t take long for them to make it to her laboratory. She scans them both in, and when FRIDAY makes her usual offer of preparing the space for their use, she dismisses the AI politely, with a single request regarding the heating being turned on.

To Bucky’s initial dismay, Y/N doesn’t even look at him— she heads straight for a cupboard, where she proceeds to stand up on her tiptoes in order to reach something that he also can’t make out.

When she turns on her heels, holding a thick, dark, blanket, he’s sure he’s seeing things.

“C’mon then, sweetheart— Pick a couch, any couch”

What?

He blinks at her dumbly, still feeling tears stinging behind his eyes.

She tilts her head and chuckles, before looking around the room at the three, different loveseats;

“Do you have a preference?” she reiterates, “or-”

“I want to stay with you” he bursts, unable to hold back, “I… I mean, I— I- I like, I-“

Y/N feels her heart swelling with flattery, he’s so sweet, so hopelessly hungry for affection and companionship that the idea of anyone hurting him makes her almost irrationally angry.

“Come on then” she exhales, reaching out a hand towards him, and opening and closing her fist in invitation, “Dealers choice”

His chest stammers nervously as he lets his flesh fingers close around hers. He can’t even begin to understand why she’s being so kind to him, but she is, and he needs it. So he doesn’t ask, he just follows behind her as she leads him to a dark leather sectional that’s tucked away in the corner of the room.

“FRIDAY, can you send Cap’ a message please?-” Y/N purrs, folding down on to the plush cushions, “-Tell him that Barnes is fine, and that he’ll catch him for dinner or something later on”

“Sure thing, boss”

She’s still holding his hand, watching him with an expression so lovely that he can barely handle it.

“I-I— I-” he mumbles, “I’m— uh—“

“Exhausted” Y/N cuts in, patting the space beside her, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ve got some readin’ to catch up on, you can curl up right here and keep me company”

That little burst of encouragement is all it takes for Bucky to fight past the embarrassment he’s feeling and settle himself on the couch, before, he very, very slowly, begins to lie himself down, with his head in Y/N’s lap.

“There” she coos, approving, “lets just-“ she adds, throwing the quilt up, over his body, “That’s better, right? nice and warm”

He can barely comprehend the niceness of his position. He’s staring up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s bringing their tangled hands up to his lips, so that he can press a kiss against her knuckles.

The gesture is so, so lovely, that Y/N can’t help but smile down at him, reaching across with her free fingers to start to stroke his hair back, away from his brow.

“You” she whispers, “Are the sweetest guy alive, y’know that?”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t know anything close to that. So he shakes his head and feels his eyes spilling over, down across his cheeks as he lets himself close them.

Everything feels too raw. He’s tired, exposed, and in love and he hadn't realised that morning, and now he can't stop realising it and it’s too much, right now, because he doesn't know how or when it happened, but she is one of the most important people in his life, and he’s just kissed her hand, and he didn’t ask first, and he’s sorry, and he’s scared and tired, and—

“Well you are…” she says, making his frantic thoughts slam to a halt, “…You’re lovely, and charming, and handsome—”

Suddenly, he’s staring again.

“I’m sorry” he gulps, “I- I really am, Y/N/N-”

That isn’t what she’d been expecting to hear.

She shakes her head, slipping her hand down, so that she’s stroking his cheek with her thumb;

“I… I mean it” he counters, “I- I shouldn’t h-have kissed you- I-”

“What?” Y/N asks, genuinely confused, “What are you talking, about Buck?”

“Just now… I— Y-your hand, I— I, I couldn’t help it, darlin’— I- I- I’ve been thinkin’ a-about kissin’— about kissin’ you, and I— I shouldn’t have— I- I just couldn’t— I-“

He’s getting so worked up that his nostrils are flaring. It’s painful to watch, so she wastes no time in slipping the hand she’s holding up to her own lips, where she kisses his knuckles this time, effectively silencing him instantly.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ a lot, huh?” she wonders, after a moment of silence,

Oh, god.

His face is on fire.

His eyes are full of tears again, but he can’t tear them away from her face.

She’s smiling, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel-

He nods, too mortified to make his confession aloud.

“and is it just me you’ve been thinkin’ about?” she presses, a lilt of humour in her tone, “or is it Natasha, too?”

“No” he bursts, “No, Y/N/N.. it…uh, it’s just you…”

Bucky knows he’s caught. He knows that no matter how humiliating this whole thing might be, that lying is only going to make it worse.

“Well” Y/N exhales, expression thoughtful, “It’s been a long time for you, sweetheart, it’s only normal that you’re gonna think about things like that-”

A strange kind of bravery washes over him for a minute, and he shakes his head, looking right at her, as he speaks,

“It’s not that, doll, it’s-” he inhales, “It's you, I didn't get it but, I, I do now and I know it’s— it’s crazy and I- I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya but I- I just want ya to know that you— you mean the world to me, and I- I-” “It has been a while, though, right?”

The teasing in her voice cuts through the intensity of the atmosphere, and despite himself, and his crippling anxiety, Bucky finds himself scoffing.

“Yeah..” he agrees, “Yeah it… it’s been a while.”

Y/N beams at him, before kissing his hand again.

“I know I just got FRIDAY to make you dinner plans with Rodgers,” she says, “But he's had plenty of chances to third wheel already- how would you feel about givin' him a rain check? that way we can talk about our feelings for each other somewhere more romantic than my lab—”

His breath catches in his throat. His fingers tighten around hers and for a horrible second, Y/N worries that she’s totally misread the situation;

“W-what do you mean ‘feelings for each other’?”

It’s her turn to blush now, even though Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone so perfect;

“Well I…” she murmurs, “I might’ve misunderstood you, sweetheart, but it- it sounded like you were sayin’ you-”

“I do” he’s quick to assure her, “Y/N/N, I— I mean… but you— you-”

“Am kinda sweet on you too”

The man in her lap offers her a smile that splits his face- She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even if he’s blatantly exhausted.

“So…” she sighs, beaming back at him “…You get some rest… I’ll finish some work that I can’t make Tony’s problem and then…” she purrs, stroking her free hand through his hair, “Then we’ll see about the kissing…”

Masterlist

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : yandere!Lee Minho x F!Reader Word Count : 1.8k TW : yandere ; manipulation ; yelling ; fighting ; 1(one) slap ; the usual yandere angst ; Request : Anon : yandere lee know?

“Have you ever thought about what things would be like if I wasn’t here…” You pondered over the cup of coffee that you were holding in both hands. The only reason you held it so tightly was just in case he reacted badly to your question, and most of the time, if not every time you brought up something along the lines of you leaving or just not being there in general, he would blow up. The coffee was, in a way, a sense of security, a weapon if it had to be, just to save you enough time to get to the bedroom which had become your safe zone. 

He hummed softly, his fork scraping against the plate, creating the most cringe inducing noise. You wondered if he did it on purpose, but he himself even winced at the sound before dropping the fork and staring at you, so maybe it wasn’t intentional. You questioned everything he did though, it just came as a habit after being stuck with him so long. “Nope.” He said, almost cheerfully, as a smile spread across his face. “I’d like to think that no matter when or where, I would have gotten you at some point. You’ll always be mine, darling.” 

Even though he wasn’t angry, his response still had your skin crawling. He had said in a lot more words that basically you’d always belong to him, and you hated that. You didn’t want to belong to anyone… But sadly, you had ended up with him. The good memories that you had shared with him which feels like forever ago have long since been overshadowed by the constant fighting, the nights spent crying after he flipped out for what you felt to be no reason at all. There was no way out, you had tried to leave so many times before, it only made him more angry, and you had at some point just given up entirely on getting out. 

“What do you like about me though?” The breakfast table had become the birthplace of a brand new idea, a tactic that might have him making you leave instead of you having to find a way out. If you stopped doing and being everything that he liked, maybe he’d just get rid of you and you’d finally be free. Sure, it sounded stupid, but it felt like your hands were tied and there wasn’t much that you could do except hope that it would work. 

A quiet chuckle sounded through his lips as his head fell back, and you wondered if he was thinking about how to answer. Did he even have an answer, or had you just been unlucky enough to fall for him and his charms and he took advantage of that? “I like how you’re so thoughtful of me, making sure the house is clean and that I have something to eat when I get home from work. I like how you’re comfortable enough to walk around the house with your hair all messy and wearing my clothes, it’s so cute. I like the way you curl up next to me in bed every night and that adorable smile you have in the morning before you fully wake up.” You could see his smile growing wider the more he spoke, and for some strange reason, you actually started to feel bad about using those things against him. “I actually love those things about you… And there’s so much more. You’re just… My favorite person in the whole world.” His laughter got a little louder as his head rolled forward, his chin resting in the palm of his hands as he looked at you. “So what do you like about me?” 

Of course, you hadn’t planned on him asking you that question, you didn’t have a single thought in your mind now, and the intense stare down was only making it harder for you to think in general. “Uhm… well…” You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you looked around the room, but every time your eyes passed over him you could see the large smile that he had been wearing grow smaller and smaller until his lips were set in a straight line and the light that had once glimmered in his eyes was gone. 

“Right…” He muttered, his hands dropping from under his chin to drum against the table. “You don’t love anything about me. I’m the world's biggest piece of shit.” There it was, the victim mentality that he always had. He was the one who was basically holding you hostage, but somehow you were the bad guy for not loving him after everything that he put you through. 

Even still, your head quickly shook, not because you were disagreeing with him, although that’s what you wanted him to believe. You just didn’t want an argument, you had gone a good portion of the morning without getting yelled at, and you didn’t want to start now. “It’s not that… I just didn’t expect you to ask the same question. I was thrown off guard a little.” You quickly tried to excuse your lack of an answer, and you kept your fingers crossed under the table as you waited and wished that he would believe you. 

“I didn’t expect to be asked the question at all…” He mused, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at you, sometimes it felt like he was just reading you, reading your face, your eyes, your body language. That’s exactly what it felt like he was doing right now. “But I was able to come up with so many reasons… And you can’t come up with anything? Do you not even love me?” 

You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, you had been actively trying to avoid one all morning, but it seemed like every single route led you to this. “I do… I do love you…” You stammered, already breathing heavily, the instinctive reaction to already be ready to run had you shifting slightly in your chair so that your feet weren’t underneath the table. “I just wasn’t ready-” 

His fists came down on the table and you felt yourself shrinking into the chair, you always became so small when he was like this. “You’re lying!” His voice rang out in your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You always lie to me… Just tell me the truth. Do you love me?” The question would usually have you rambling on and on about how much you did love him, about how amazing he was. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, and even though he knew when you were lying, he would listen with a smug smile on his face. 

You weren’t sure what had changed today, but you were done lying. You were done with running away from him. You were tired of cowering whenever his anger became too much. If you fought back, maybe he’d change his mind about you, about why he loves you. “No. I don’t love you. I don’t love anything about you.” The smirk that he had been wearing while expectantly awaiting your usual response was now fading as he listened to you, turning into a scowl as he stared at you from across the table. “I hate waking up next to you in the morning, I hate when you come home from work and I have to see you. Your touch makes my skin crawl, your kisses make me want to vomit… I hate you.” 

The reaction didn’t come immediately, it actually took a couple minutes for him to process what you had said. This was completely unlike you, it was one thing to know you didn’t love him but have you lie about it… It was something completely different for you to be so vocal about not loving him, about everything you hated about him. “Is that… all true?” He quizzed, almost like he was giving you one last chance, a chance to change your mind, to take back everything that you said. Of course, you’d still be in trouble for even uttering those words, but the punishment would be less severe. Without a second of hesitation, you firmly nodded your head. This was it, you were sure of it. 

Before your eyes had even reopened after blinking, you felt the back of his hand land against your cheek, your face momentarily whipping to the side before going right back to looking at him. You weren’t sure where the courage came from, maybe it was just the months of built up anger from the situation that you were in. You were tired of being the scared little mouse that would cower in the corner of the room, waiting for him to come get you. You would fight back now, and you weren’t sure how it would end, but at least you had tried. 

Everything that had once been on the table was now on the floor with one quick swipe of your hand, coffee mugs shattering against the porcelain tiles of the kitchen floor as you practically lunged across the table at him. “I’m not scared of you, not anymore. You can yell at me, you can hit me… but I’m done hiding from you. I’m gonna leave… No matter what it takes… I won’t be stuck here with you anymore.” 

You were a mere inch from his face, and he had the opportunity to scream at you, to hit you, to do anything he wanted. It’s what you were waiting for as his eyes bored into your own, but strangely enough, he started smiling. His hand came up, gently gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger to hold you in place. “You’re so… feisty… My darling…” He cooed as he stood from his chair, tilting your head back so your eyes would stay on him. “It’s quite adorable that you think you have any say in when you’ll be leaving… You’re stuck here with me forever, you know that.” He chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Although I will add this little act onto my list of things to love about you… It was quite entertaining.” 

All of that… Everything that you had done… The strength that had somehow manifested in that moment… And it was all for… This? For him to find it cute? For him to practically laugh in your face and look at it as a joke? You truly were stuck with him… No matter what you did, you’d always be here. Everything that you did to go against him… It was all pointless at the end. You could either continue trying to fight against him… Or you could try to learn to love him. It would be hard… But it was the only thing you hadn’t tried yet.

[fallinallincurls]

all’s well that ends well to end up with you

here is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2k23!! this fic is for @ya-pucking-nerd !! i had so much fun writing this and i hope you love it just as much! writing cale has always been a favorite of mine and this one was no exception. and shutout to @tonyspep as always for brainstorming so much of this idea with me!

i ALSO made a playlist for this fic which you can listen to here! 

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.3k

~~~~~

Cale’s offseason has hardly started, yet his phone is already lighting up with a call from you to no doubt make summer plans before he heads back to Calgary to enjoy time with his family and to start his summer training. 

It’s not unusual for his best friend to call him and the soft, giddy smile on his lips at just the sight of your name on his phone display is nothing new either, but when the call connects and words are practically spewing from your lips, he knows something must be wrong.

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Cale cuts you off, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I said,” You emphasize, taking a deep breath to ensure you speak slower this time, “you got invited to Ryan’s wedding right? The one that’s in a few weeks in Montana?”

“Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well, uh, I kinda realized that showing up by myself would be lame right? Like this guy used to be insanely in love with me, but now he’s getting married and I’m, well, not even close to being in a relationship let alone a serious one.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You and Ryan are still friends so it won’t be awkward and I’ll be there so you won’t be bored at any point.” Cale replies, still confused as to what you’re getting at.

“We are still friends, but I have to prove that I’m doing just as well as he is, you know? So I have a plan. Well, more of a question before a plan.” You explain, feeling the nerves creep in as the moment about revealing what you’ve been thinking of asking Cale nears with each passing second.

“Okay…” 

“What do you think about going as a fake couple? Like we’re dating but it’s obviously not real? Just to prove to Ryan that I’ve moved on and am doing better! He already knows we’re friends and I don’t think it’d be that hard for us to come up with a story and act all lovey dovey together for a few days.”

Cale is silent on the other line and you have a sick feeling in your stomach that you’ve really messed up. It was a stupid idea anyway. Why would he agree to it? He might be your best friend, but asking him to fake date you? It wasn’t that smart.

“So what’s our story?” Cale asks after a moment, trying to hide the smile growing on his lips that you can’t see anyway.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, if we’re going to make this convincing we have to be on the same page about how we met, the first time we said ‘I love you,’ some funny moments that have happened since we got together. Stuff like that.”

Before you can even begin to think about everything Cale just mentioned, your heart begins racing and a grin is on full display across your face.

“So you’re in?” The question is full of excitement and Cale can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Of course I’m in. I’d do anything for you Y/N. Plus, I think it would be fun to finally get back at Ryan for what he did to you.” Cale replies, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies erupting in his stomach. You squeal on the other end of the line and jump right into ironing out the details so there isn’t anything missed that can foil the plan.

Cale pays attention because he has to, but he knows he’s in trouble. He just agreed to be your fake boyfriend for a whole weekend. Cale’s already hiding how he really feels about you and he has a feeling getting a taste of what he wants so badly will only make him fall even harder.

“Okay,” You say, clicking your seatbelt back into place as the plane begins its descent and turning your gaze to the blue eyed, rosy cheek boy next to you. “Remember our story?” 

Cale playfully rolls his eyes at the question you’ve asked about a hundred times since you both boarded the short flight to Montana. “Yes, I do. We met in one of the business classes we were both taking together at the University of Denver when I was working towards finishing my degree in my free time. You had no idea I played hockey and after I asked for a pen that day in class, we started hanging out together. The rest is history.” He recites the story of how you actually met with a smile. “Our anniversary is April 29th, we’ve already met each other’s families and we couldn’t be any happier together.”

“Good job!”

“Most of our fake relationship is based off of how we really met so it isn’t that hard to remember, Y/N.” Cale teases, earning a small chuckle from you in response.

“I know and that will only make it more convincing, don’t you think? Being best friends and having history together already gives us an advantage. I just hope it works.”

“It will.” Cale murmurs, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving your hand a squeeze. You give him a sweet smile in return, before you begin talking about how excited you are about all the plans that are in place for the moment you land. He has to try and remember none of what happens between the two of you this weekend will be real, but that won’t stop him from taking it all in as if this was his real life even if just for a short amount of time. 

Best friends, nothing more. Best friends, nothing more.

The words repeat in his head when the plane lands, as you both gather your luggage from baggage claim and throughout the entire cab ride to the resort where the wedding is being held. And just when Cale thinks the reminder is concrete and that nothing will sway him, he opens the door to your assigned hotel room and he stops breathing as he freezes in the threshold. 

“Cale? What’s wrong?” You ask from behind him, unable to see around his broad shoulders into the luxurious room. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shuffles through the door and you’re about to tease him until you see the single king size bed in the middle of the room. “Oh.”

“Uh, there’s only one bed.” Cale states the obvious as if both of you aren’t already staring at the bed. “I swear I booked a room with two separate queens, but there must have been a mixup or something. I can check with the front desk to see if we can be moved and if not, I can just sleep on the floor. You can have the bed. That’s fine. It’ll work if-”

“Cale.” You say his name firmly, holding his wrist in an attempt to get him to look at you. He has flipped into rational thinking mode because of the issue at hand, but you know calming him down is the first step in telling him it’s all okay. “You will not be sleeping on the floor. I won’t allow it. That will kill your back and you know it.” “But-” 

“No buts. We’re only here for two nights. Sleeping in the same bed won’t be the end of the world for us. How many times have we fallen asleep on the couch together? Or taken a pregame nap? This is no different. I promise.” Your words are soft and visibly make Cale relax. He knows you’re right, but a large part of him knows he won’t be able to handle being that close to you in such an intimate setting even if it’s under the guise of a fake relationship.

“You’re right.” Cale sighs, calming himself down and realizing the situation isn’t as bad as he thought it is. “We can do this.” 

You offer him a sweet smile before walking further into the room and dropping your suitcase to the ground. “Do you want to explore the town today since we’re here a day early? I looked up the usual touristy things and places to eat just in case.” Cale looks at his watch and shrugs, feeling happiness surge through him at the thought of wandering through a new place with you.

“That sounds perfect. I’ve never been to Montana before so getting to spend a little time in the town would be really nice.” Cale doesn’t mention how spending all that extra time with you is really what he’s looking forward to most. He would go anywhere in the world if it meant being by your side.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You say excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. And if your heart races a little faster than usual when Cale chuckles and follows behind, no one has to know.

Cale wasn’t kidding when he said he’s never been to Montana before, but he has to admit the little town not far from the resort is the cutest place he’s ever seen. Little storefronts line the streets and both locals and tourists take their time enjoying the cozy town. The scenery is gorgeous too, snow capped mountains extending high into the bright blue sky, but there’s nothing quite like the joy on clear display across your face at every new experience you and Cale do while exploring.

So far, you’ve stopped in various antique shops, a bookstore, two art galleries and took a tour of the local distillery. You haven’t stopped smiling at all and Cale can practically feel his heart swell every time you turn to him with nothing but excitement and adoration. 

You’re walking down the busy street next to Cale, still trying to take in the entire scene when your stomach growls. The lighthearted laugh that you love so much slips past Cale’s lips and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful sound.

“Sorry,” You giggle. “I guess we should find somewhere to go for dinner, huh? I didn’t even realize how late it was.” 

“Want to try that restaurant we passed before that looked good?” Cale suggests and you nod in agreement. As you both turn in the opposite direction to head back to the establishment, Cale takes a subtle leap of faith and intertwines his fingers with yours. He argues it’s just to get used to faking a relationship especially around other people, but when you smile up at him and squeeze his hand in response, he can’t help but think maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way about him. 

That would be crazy though. Cale knows that.

He pushes those thoughts out of his head and focuses on dinner with you. The meal is full of laughter and recounting shared memories which fill both of your hearts to the brim. By the time you’ve both finished eating and had a few glasses of wine, the sun has fully set and the road is calmer than it was earlier. 

When the waiter comes back with the check, you thank him before Cale insists on paying and you don’t object because you know he won’t budge. You try to stifle a yawn as he signs the receipt, but he somehow notices everything so it’s no surprise he asks the obvious question.

“Sleepy?” Cale chuckles, putting all his attention on you again. You feel your cheeks heating under his attentive, but soft gaze.

“A little. It’s been such a good day, just a little long.” You reply with honesty and Cale nods along in agreement.

“Well, we can’t have you falling asleep during the ceremony tomorrow so we should probably head back.” 

“I guess so.” You smile at Cale before following closely behind to exit the restaurant. “Although having you there will already make the whole wedding more bearable. Thank you again for this.”

“It was an easy decision to come along with you. Plus, I can’t wait to see Ryan’s face tomorrow when he sees us together as a couple. Besides getting to spend time with you in this beautiful place, that will make the whole trip worth it.” 

You giggle because the mental image is hilarious. Although the walk back to the resort isn’t long, you lean into Cale, who wraps his arm around you, and take in the serene moment. Any worries or anxieties about spending a whole day tomorrow fake dating your best friend have seemingly disappeared which you couldn’t be more grateful for. You’re determined to just enjoy the day with him and not let your feelings get tangled with whatever may happen to convince everyone at the wedding that you’re actually together.

It can’t be that hard.

But when you return back to the hotel room ready to watch a movie and call it a night, Cale seems nervous and jumpy again. It must still be the one bed situation even though you reassured him earlier that it’s fine.

“Um,” Cale starts, his voice quiet and shy. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before looking away. “Is it okay if I take the bathroom first?” 

“Yeah, of course! Go ahead. I’ll just get changed real quick while you’re in there. My nighttime routine isn’t anything crazy anyway.” You chuckle, hoping to ease some of the obvious tension Cale seems to be experiencing. With a nod and a gentle smile, Cale disappears into the en suite bathroom which leaves you scourging through your suitcase for the pajamas you packed. “Where in the world are they?” You mutter to yourself before finding the set buried all the way at the bottom.

With a silent celebration, you quickly switch out your jeans for the comfy shorts and right as you’re pulling the shirt you’ve been wearing all day off, the bathroom door creaks open. Before he can catch a glimpse of anything, you face away from him and call out, “Cale! Just turn around a minute, please?” 

He does as you ask, he wouldn’t ever overstep like that. But Cale’s breath was already stolen away from those brief, accidental seconds when he got to see the smooth expanse of your back, the gentle curve of your breast and your hair spilling over your shoulders. 

His mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind him that that’s his best friend he’s thinking about this way. You’ve always been gorgeous and he’s known that since you met, but something about this moment is striking him in an entirely new way. Maybe it’s the small proximity of the hotel room. Maybe it’s that his feelings for you continue to get stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

Cale has no idea, but he’s in big trouble either way.

“Okay!” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, “I’m all good. You can turn back around.” Cale lets out a sigh when he sees your bright smile and how cozy you look in the matching blue pajama set. “All good?” You double check while trying not to make it obvious that you’re taking in just how adorable Cale looks right now.

“All good. Want me to pick the movie? And do you, uh, prefer a certain side of the bed?” 

“Yes, pick the movie. Whatever you want! And nope, I’m not picky.” With that, you disappear into the bathroom for a few moments as Cale settles in. By the time you reemerge only a few minutes later, you see he picked a movie you’ve both watched a thousand times and claimed the right side of the bed. He looks so soft and cuddly which makes your heart skip a beat just at the sight of him. 

Cale pats your side of the bed and gives you that sweet smile you adore so much. After slipping under the covers and plugging your phone in, he starts the movie. Despite how weird sharing a bed felt hours ago, now there’s nothing but comfort evident in this moment. You don’t know how much of the movie you actually watch before you start drifting off, head resting against Cale’s shoulder. But the last thing you remember before sleep takes over is Cale whispering a quiet “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

The warm sunlight shines through the hotel room curtains, pulling you out of the peaceful dream currently unfolding in your mind. You slowly blink your eyes open and get reacquainted with where you are, in Montana with Cale for the wedding, when you realize that you’re wrapped up in a strong embrace and your head is resting against your best friend’s chest. 

And before you even have time to realize you’re both practically snuggled up together which somehow must’ve happened during the night, you notice Cale’s beautiful blue eyes are focused on you and there’s a lazy, but adorable smiling donning his lips. His hair is messy from sleep and his cheeks are already rosy. He looks like a dream.

A part of you thinks that you could get used to this, but that reality still seems so far away and unlikely to happen. So you might as well enjoy the moment when it’s here. 

You match his grin, lean up a little to get a better view of him and start absentmindedly playing with the loose collar of the old t-shirt he’s wearing. He watches you, waiting with patience for you to say something. 

“You drool in your sleep, Makar.”

“Hm, do I?” Cale laughs softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back while the other brushes some loose hair behind your ear. “Well, I guess I should make it up to you by letting you shower first, huh?”

“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.” 

“Bathroom’s all yours then. Just let me get in there at some point before we have to leave, please. I can’t show up with my hair looking like this.”

“Your bedhead is so cute though! I don’t think anyone would mind.” You tease him back, the happiest laugh escaping past your lips as you untangle yourself from the blankets to head towards the bathroom. The moment the door closes behind you and the sound of the shower running can be heard, Cale lets out a sigh while scrubbing his hands over his face. 

That felt a little too real for Cale’s liking if he’s going to try and keep all his feelings under the guise of pretending. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the banter and soft moment of waking up next to you. 

As he listens to you sing a Taylor Swift song while getting ready, Cale goes through his usual routine before beginning to get dressed in his favorite suit. He happens to know it’s also your favorite suit of his so maybe, just maybe, he picked it for that reason too. He’s just fixing the navy blue tie you told him to wear so he’d match your dress when you step out of the bathroom and Cale has another moment where it feels like he can’t breathe.

You hadn’t told him anything about the dress minus its color prior to this very moment. The beautiful navy blue fabric hugs your body in all the right places and stops mid calf to showcase the pretty heels you picked to match. Cale also can’t help but notice the slit that shows off your left leg too. The straps are tied in bows at your shoulders and the dress is perfect, yet simple and you look absolutely stunning.

But Cale’s gaze catches on the glittering bracelet on your right arm. The one he gifted you as a graduation gift. The one you’ve told him you only wear for special occasions. It almost shocks Cale to his core that you’re wearing it now, but his heart couldn’t be happier.

“Wow. Y/N, you look gorgeous. So pretty.” Cale manages to get out, eyes still taking the sight of you. The bright smile that takes over your face rivals the sun which makes him practically melt on the spot. Cale knows then, more than ever, that he’s hopelessly in love with you.

“Thank you,” You say, voice shy and gentle. “You look really handsome yourself, Cale.” And he does. He’s wearing your favorite suit of his and looks incredible as always. Your heart swells just looking at him. 

“Thanks,” He replies with a sweet smile before you close the space between the two of you to readjust his tie. That same surging emotion from last night rushes through his veins at the close proximity to you and when you pat his chest, signaling your work is done, he meets your gaze and takes a few seconds to remember every detail of this moment. “All ready to go?” Cale asks simply, trying to make sure he looks unaffected by what just happened.

“Mhm. Remember our story for when people ask because you know they will and we both know each other’s boundaries with PDA, so we’ll stick to what’s appropriate there, yeah?” Your best friend nods in response as he slips his fingers between yours again like it’s something that happens all the time.

“Sounds like a plan. We have to leave now so we aren’t late, sweetheart.” Cale ties the pet name out while guiding you towards the door and as your heart is racing, you can’t stop smiling knowing that today is going to be amazing with this incredible man by your side even if he’s only your fake boyfriend for the day.

And you aren’t wrong. The ceremony goes by without any hiccups. Cale keeps his hand in yours the whole time and presses the softest kisses to the side of your head throughout. You introduced Cale to a bunch of your friends as your boyfriend which only earned you more sweet smiles and gentle touches from the boy at your side. It felt like living in a blissful bubble where nothing could disrupt your fantasy even though you knew deep down this was all still pretend. There was no way Cale had real feelings for you.

The real test though is the reception. You can’t avoid Ryan forever and you have a feeling he’s going to make a point to come over and talk, but more importantly, ask about your date. Before the nerves can take over though, Cale puts all your worries away. As you both stand side by side in front of the seating chart in search of your names, he kisses your cheek and pulls you in closer to his side.

“How are you holding up?” 

“Pretty good. There’s this awesome guy who is making the whole night a lot more fun than I thought it could’ve been.” You giggle, watching Cale’s cheeks brighten with the familiar pink color of blush. 

“Really? Because I can’t get enough of the girl I’m here with either. Her smile is making it hard to breathe. And I’m glad she invited me along.” Cale responds with a smile on his lips and blue eyes full of nothing but adoration. His words pierce your heart in the most unexpected way because you know he means them. None of what he says is pretend to fit the show you’re both putting on. 

But what could that possibly mean?

You don’t get a lot of time to think about it because Cale spots your names together under Table 8 and gives your hand a tiny squeeze before guiding you through the decorated ballroom. You take in all the beautiful sights and settle in next to Cale as you greet the other guests seated at your table. One of your college best friends is in the chair on your right which brings you even more comfort. 

“Y/N!” She exclaims, giving you a hug while sporting a huge grin. “Last time we talked you didn’t mention that the handsome, but adorable professional hockey player who you always claimed to be your best friend is your boyfriend now!” 

“Oh,” You chuckle, glancing at Cale who is in a conversation with one of the guests who are also sitting at your table. “We didn’t want to tell everyone just yet. But yeah, we’re together now and he’s the best.”

“I don’t know why you both waited all that time. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other the first time you met! I remember how you bursted into the campus coffeehouse with the happiest look on your face and I knew you met someone incredible.”

“It wasn’t that obvious to us for a while, I guess. But we’re making up for the lost time now.” You say softly, turning to look back at Cale as a million thoughts run through your head. 

Since you met Cale, you’ve had feelings for him and for years, you never said anything because you couldn’t risk losing the best friendship you’ve ever had. But with your friend’s words echoing in your mind, you realize there is no time to waste. He didn’t even object when you asked him to be your fake boyfriend for the wedding. He has been noticeably more sweet and attentive the whole weekend and you’ve even noticed things he’s said or done that seem to be hinting at the fact he might want to be more than friends with you.

Ohmygod.

You’re in love with Cale and he most likely has feelings for you too. 

Suddenly, nothing else matters except confessing the very thing you’ve tried to hide from him for years, but when you turn to ask Cale for a moment outside, the lights dim and the DJ’s voice booms through the speakers around the room. 

“Everyone, please welcome the bride and groom!” Everyone stands and claps as the newlyweds enter the ballroom hand in hand with beaming smiles on their faces. The first dance song is introduced and even though you watch the couple dance together, you’re more focused on the boy next to you. 

Cale’s arm is wrapped around you as a silent reminder he’s there because he probably thinks seeing your ex-boyfriend dance with his now wife at his wedding isn’t the greatest reminder that you’re single and here with a “fake” date. But you don’t even care about that right now. His touch grounds you and it’s what makes your mind up about telling Cale about how you feel. 

Applause erupts again as the song finishes and almost drowns out the DJ’s next words. “The newlyweds would like to invite all couples to join them on the dance floor for this next dance.”

The familiar beginning notes of Taylor Swift’s “Lover” fill the air which makes you let out a little gasp in surprise. You love this song and Cale knows it. He can’t let this opportunity slip away from him, especially not with the plans he has.

“May I have this dance?” Cale asks softly, sporting an adorable smile while holding his hand out for you. A giggle slips past your lips as you nod and put your hand in his. He leads you out to an open spot on the crowded dance floor before pulling you into him. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your hips, eliminating any space between your body and Cale’s. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The music plays and you sing along under your breath all while never pulling your eyes away from his. How could he be so oblivious to the fact that he’s in love with you? All this time it could’ve been real, but it took a fake relationship for him to realize he can’t wait any longer to tell you how he feels even if it’s terrifying.

Little do either of you know, the same thought is going through both of your minds at the same exact time.

This is it.

“Y/N,” Cale starts when you say “Cale,” at the same time. He chuckles, trying to hide his nerves, and dips his head down before looking at you again as you both keep dancing. “You go first.”

“Okay,” You whisper, fumbling with Cale’s collar and keeping your gaze locked with his. It feels as if the rest of the ballroom falls away. There aren’t any other dancing couples or bright lights shining down. It’s just you and Cale and your favorite Taylor Swift song playing in the background. “I know this may seem like a surprise and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. This is just something I can’t hide anymore.”

Cale’s breath is knocked out of his lungs at just those few sentences. Is this really happening? Is he about to get his girl after all this time?

“I love you, Cale. I love you with my whole entire heart and I’ve known since the day we met in class, but didn’t want to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had. I realized though that it’s not your friendship that makes my life infinitely better, it’s you. And I know you came to this wedding as my fake boyfriend because I was nervous about seeing my stupid ex, which was beyond kind of you to do, but I want to leave here with you as my real boyfriend. I want to love you like I’ve dreamed of for years now.”

Time stops. Or at least Cale swears it does. He almost thinks this is all a dream except he knows it isn’t because of the tender look on your face. Nothing but love and admiration is on display across your beautiful features and he knows you’re preparing yourself for a potential reaction which is the farthest thing from the truth. 

“I love you too, Y/N. Always have. Everyone around me has seen how insanely in love I am, but I couldn’t risk losing you either. You’re the most amazing person I know and it would make my heart so happy to be with you. I think we’ve proved this weekend that we can definitely make a real relationship work.” Cale replies honestly, his voice shaky. You laugh softly, your eyes filling up with tears for a moment. 

This is real. He loves you too.

As you’re convincing yourself this is all real life, the bridge of the song begins and a beaming smile blossoms across Cale’s lips. He looks beautiful under the shimmery lights of the dance floor and he’s excluding pure happiness. His cheeks are rosy, blue eyes bright and you’ve never been so in love.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Cale leans forward to close the small gap between the two of you with a gentle, but passionate kiss that says everything he’s been holding back for years. You melt into him, letting the overwhelming sensation of love wash over you. And as Cale pulls you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss, your heart feels as if it might explode. 

This is all you’ve wanted for so long.

When you both slowly pull away, leaning your forehead against his, the rest of the crowd dissipates as the fast paced music picks up to get the party started. There’s nothing to do but bask in the moment and commit every detail to memory. Cale hasn’t stopped beaming yet and you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy before.

“I know everyone here already thinks we’re a couple, but just wait until the guys find out. I think they’ve been waiting for this just as long as I have been.” 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” You chuckle, cheeks going pink from blush at the thought of Cale’s teammates hearing the news the two of you are now together. Cale is sure that he’s never seen anyone cuter in his whole entire life and now he gets to call you his. 

But right now, he isn’t thinking about talking to Ryan like you’ve been dreading all day or returning home for the rest of the offseason. Cale is just focused on having the best time dancing the night away with the love of his life because he finally has you. And he won’t be letting you go anytime soon.

tagging some friends/mutuals who might be interested!

@tonyspep @starshine-hockey-girl @kailyn-writes @happer08 @rosesvioletshardy @sorryjustafangirl @laurenairay @miracleonice87 @hockeyunits @stroopwaffle8 @musiclove-12 @eightmakar @ilyasorokinn @barzysreputation @breezymichelle99 @comphyjost @comphy-and-cozy @jostystyles @ya-pucking-nerd @fallen-froots @beauvibaby @barzysunflower @boqvistsbabe @wyattjohnston @tpwkstiles @hockeylvr59​ @2manytabsopen​ @lam-ila​ @nateslehky​

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter forty two

close to home | chapter forty two

plot: the reader watches her friends die

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,347 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, character deaths A/N: thank you for reading!!!

Your eyes locked with Daryl’s across the lineup, and you could see he was badly hurt. Shot, it looked like, and it made you want to throw up. You were too far away from him to see his eyes, but you knew they’d been on you since you were on the ground. 

The rest of your family looked as bad as him. Glenn, Rosita, Daryl, and Michonne were all across from you. They looked like they’d been through hell. Then there was Abraham, Maggie, Rick, and Sasha. The closest to you were Aaron, Carl, and then Eugene. 

There was something wrong with Maggie; you prayed it wasn’t the baby. 

That was all you had time to take in before Negan approached you and lifted your chin with the bat. You felt it dig into your chin, but to your surprise, it was almost gentle. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt this pretty young woman. In fact, I made her dinner!” Negan exclaimed. “And she was such a wonderful guest.”

When he stepped away, you let out the breath you were holding in and looked at Daryl. You gave him a slight nod, trying to tell him you were okay. That you were okay with you about to die, and that he would be okay too. But a nod couldn’t say all that. 

You were shaking as Rick was pointed out as the leader, and for the first time, you realized that Negan might not kill you. He might choose someone else. The Negan you met before was gone and was replaced with this sadistic asshole who seemed to be getting off on what was happening. 

Negan went through his new rules. Alexandria now belonged to him. You all belonged to him. And everything you would do, it would be for him. 

You couldn’t take your eyes away from your family the entire time. You did your best to memorize everyone’s faces, everyone that you love. You hoped and prayed that Negan would pick you. That he would kill you so they would live. But as Negan kept talking, you didn’t think that was true. 

When Negan stopped at Maggie, you felt like you would be ill. 

“Jesus, you look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now,” Negan said, gearing up to take a swing. 

“No!” Glenn yelled, breaking from the lineup. He had almost reached Negan before Dwight got to him, forcing him to his knees and beating him. 

You closed your eyes and tried your hardest to keep tears from spilling. You could hear Maggie screaming.

“Nope, nope. Get him back in line. All right, listen,” Negan began as you opened your eyes. “Don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one’s free. It’s an emotional moment, I get it.”

You were shaking harder, and you looked across to Daryl. There was nothing you wanted more in the world than to be with him right now. You wished you were back home in Alexandria, curled up in his bed. You cried at the thought of it. 

The monster in front of you continued to verbally assault the group and smiled through it all. You felt like you were going to throw up and tried not to.

When that dreaded moment came, and you knew Negan was gearing up to kill somebody, you prayed it would be you. You wanted to beg Negan for it. 

But when Negan picked Abraham, your body froze, and you couldn’t get those words out. And when the bat came down, it verbalized into a scream as you watched your friend go down. 

You physically winced each time the bat came down again and again, even after Abraham’s skull was obliterated and there was nothing left but brain matter on the ground. Through thick tears, you watched it all. You couldn’t look away. 

“Oh my goodness,” Negan laughed after it was done. “Look at this! You guys, look at my dirty girl.”

You wiped tears away from your eyes and glared at Negan, watching him laugh about what he just did. What he just took away from you all. You watched as he taunted Rosita, and your heart ached at your friend.

But then Negan turned towards you, and he actually smiled at you as he walked over, swinging the bat in his hand. Blood splattered across your face, and you flinched at the contact. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N, (Y/N)...” Negan trailed off, “I told you I can’t let that happen, didn’t I?” He asked. 

Your mind brought you back to the conversation you had, and you looked up at him with every ounce of hatred and watched as he squatted in front of you. 

“Come on, baby, don’t look at me like that,” Negan said, reaching out to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

You heard Daryl yell before you saw him move. But he didn’t make it halfway to you before he was pinned down by Dwight and two men you didn’t know. 

“No!” Negan yelled, standing and swinging the bat, narrowingly missing your head. “Oh, no. That-- that is a no-no!” He said. 

Your fingers trembled as they curled into the dirt below you, and you looked at Daryl pinned to the ground. You couldn’t find your voice. It was stuck deep inside you, and you couldn’t pull it out. 

“Looks like I got a bit of competition, huh, boys?” Negan laughed with his men. “I guess I gotta take care of it.”

And it was right there that you found your voice. 

“No!” You screamed. “No. P-please, no,” You cried. 

Negan looked at you for a long moment before sauntering over. “Come on, baby, I gotta do something. I can’t let that slide.” You knew he was taunting you. Just like he did at dinner. 

“Don’t kill him, please. I’ll do anything,” You said to the man. 

“Anything, huh?” Negan asked, rubbing his beard. He glanced back at the men holding Daryl down. “Put him back in line.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and watched them drag Daryl back, but it hitched when you saw Negan approach Daryl. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for such a beautiful girl.” Negan let out a loud sigh and looked around the lineup. “So… back to it.” 

“No!” You screamed in horror as the bat landed on Glenn’s skull. “No,” You cried. 

All you could hear was the sickening crunch of the bat and Maggie screaming. You blocked everything else out. You couldn’t hear anything but that as you watched, Negan beat the man who had become your brother to death. 

Your fingers curled around your legs, body shook, like it didn’t know how to react. Like you physically didn’t know how to react. 

You felt like you were losing consciousness like you were seeing everything from another point of view. And it all faded away when a gun was pressed against your skull, and Rick was dragged away. You didn’t hear anything. You didn’t see anything. 

You didn’t know the sun came up, and you didn’t know Rick and Negan came back. Your body was a prison to your mind. 

But then you heard one of the only things that could drag you back out. 

“Kid…”

Your eyes moved to your right, and you watched Carl stand up and approach Negan. You started shaking your head, willing your body to let you speak, but it was like it could only watch. Even when Rick was about to take Carl’s arm, it wouldn’t let you speak. 

But finally, finally, your body and mind connected when Negan said your name. “Load up (Y/N) in the truck. Time to collect on anything.”

Arms wrapped around you, and you thrashed. “No! No! Daryl!” You screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength you had left. But then another one grabbed your kicking legs, and you knew it was pointless. 

Everything was now pointless.

[kuwajima]

Hi! Hope this ask isn't weird but in the vein of talking about Zenitsu's backstory, what are your thoughts on Zenitsu's 7 evil ex girlfriends? As in, how do you tend to sort of place them on Zenitsu's pre-demon slaying timeline? And overall how do you imagine them, if think of them at all. Love your ideas about Zenitsu's backstory and kinda wanna know what you think of this aspect of his unexplored past!

I've noticed that the fandom rarely, if ever, do much with the knowledge of their existence beyond a passing mention when talking about Zenitsu's insecurities, whether in a fanfic or a meta post, which is interesting since, well, getting scammed 7 times by "romantic" partners seems like something really interesting to dwell into when writing about Zenitsu. I've read some really good fics featuring the inevitably horrible situation Zenitsu had as an orphan in the late Meiji Period, yours especially, but the exes shine by their absence across the whole spectrum of Zenitsu fanfic. I have my own thoughts about this but this is an ask, can't ramble too much lol.

Also, happy birthday! A little late but alas, hope you had a great day in your day and thank you for your fanfics in here! OMWF is just a gem and your other fanfic are just as good ❤️

I love this question!! I have put a lot of thought into them, because it does seem like an excessive number of times to be scammed and not learn your lesson, but it's very indicative of how much Zenitsu deludes himself while chasing what he believes is an ideal life. And now that you mention it, it is very rare to have them included in fanfic or meta outside of a casual reference to them.

I think the reason might be because the timeline is admittedly weird, so we have to believe that he speed ran seven girlfriends in his early teens, or the worse option is that some of them happened before he was a teenager.

And I think it has to be the latter, because I personally believe he was with Jigoro for a few years. I know it's canon that a slayer can usually learn their forms in about a year but there are a few things that indicate Zenitsu was with Jigoro for longer than that. He was hit by lightning and I refuse to believe the only side effect was the hair thing. Plus, Zenitsu is confirmed to be pretty lazy and although he is obviously a very skilled swordsman during the events of canon, Jigoro didn't know about the whole sleep-fighting thing so he should have only sent Zenitsu to Final Selection if he was sure he mostly wasn't going to die. And it's Zenitsu...there's no way he got up to speed in a year.

We are told in canon that Zenitsu dated all types of girls, and they all treated him badly, took his money, and more. The way it's worded (and this could be a translation thing) is that multiple women took his money. Now me personally, if I was a loan shark I would simply not loan money to an orphan child multiple times. There's also no way he was earning large sums of money (see the above point of him being lazy) so there had to be some time between losing his money and getting a new girlfriend. Especially if they were trying to get money out of him, there is no reason to go after a kid with absolutely no assets unless he already had a reputation of being easily manipulated.

I don't think he stayed in one town for very long either, so it's possible he ran away from other owed debts. But even then, we can assume there are probably a few months between girlfriends at least. And I don't think all of them took his money. For example, we know he dated a shopkeeper's daughter and she could have very well just made him work without pay at her father's shop as an act of "love."

Overall, I think it's a situation where Zenitsu would do their bidding for the "honor" of being allowed to say they are his girlfriend. That was the only thing he was getting out of the arrangement, since they didn't even let him hold their hands. I think it's probably incredibly obvious to anyone Zenitsu tells about his ex-girlfriends that he was never actually in a relationship with any of them. But Zenitsu still believes they were his girlfriends, despite being mistreated and sometimes betrayed by them. I think it's telling that only after he meets Jigoro does he understand that Jigoro is the only person in his life who cared about him (until he met Tanjiro, of course!) In the absence of childhood affection, those girlfriends probably did feel like true love at the time.

But you asked about the timeline. My guess is this probably happened over seven times over several years and the older he became, the most he was able to be manipulated (more access to money, a bigger reputation for being easily tricked, etc.) WHICH BRINGS US BACK TO MY EARLIER POINT: these girls were "dating" a tween.

We do see some faceless women when we learn that Zenitsu is full aware that women dislike him and deceive him (yet he keeps going back, because he convinces himself this time is different) and they certainly look like either teenagers or young adults. I assume these are examples of the girls he dated (there are 6 in the flashback and he has 7 exs, so I'm not 100% sure that's who they are) And obviously there was absolutely nothing intimate or romantic going on, but it does add a layer of malice to the whole thing. If he had been dating girls who were his own age, I'm not sure they would have been so malicious with their treatment of him. Their inclusion in his backstory is to show us that he is easily manipulated and repeatedly does not learn his lesson, because Zenitsu tricks himself into ignoring red flags.

And I'm not victim blaming. I think it's clear that he was intentionally victimized by these girls, but it is added to give us insight into Zenitsu's personality.

This is a very long-winded way to say, I believe they were all women older than Zenitsu, who either sought him out as an easy target or quickly realized he could be manipulated simply by being promised the title of Boyfriend. And they all occurred before he turned about 13, maybe 14.

But I would also love to hear your thoughts on the situation as well! I have grand schemes of writing a fic where he and Nezuko run into one of his exes post-canon and she initially thinks he's being tricked by another beautiful woman, but then she realizes that not only do they actually seem to like each other, but Zenitsu isn't the same person he was before.

And thank you for the birthday wishes!!