#watched back the video of one of my drag performances

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au mlist) - smut; f!reader; short drabble only!

yea i bet youre all tired of hearing hockey come out of my mouth but thinking about—

hockey player simon receiving a text from you after a game.

they defeated their opponent in a shutout—price carrying the team on enemy ice, with garrick coming in with solid defences, allowing mactavish and simon to sink a shot after another.

it was an electrifying game; even now as he’s stuffed in his cubicle, simon feels like he’s on top of the world. like the cup is so close to his reach—just a few more rally and he’s bringing it home.

the locker room is buzzed, congratulations getting passed from one to another while their coach awards the disk to price for the shutout. the media is still taping this whole interaction so the team remains conscious, guarded, until, finally, everything is wrapped up.

the others clamber to the showers but simon digs for his phone, desperate to talk to you. to tell you that he’s won—he doesn’t know if you’ve watched the game, not with how packed your schedule’s gotten—so if you haven’t, he wishes to at least be the first to let you know.

he wants you to hear it from him; hear from him how they dominated tonight’s game.

(6-0 for the specgru. in the playoffs.)

but there’s already a message from you, sitting atop the strings of notification filling up his phone screen. he ignores the emails from brands reaching out for brand deals or fans sending in messages to his public socials, and taps on your name.

his eyes grow wide, his breath hitching, because—

> 2 goals tonight, baby. almost a hatty.

> have i told you how your hockey makes me hot? almost makes me want to fly there to give you a reward

the start of a whimper builds in the base of his throat, scratching at his trachea.

jesus.

the last time you’ve rewarded him for his performance—a hatty, one of which was an empty net goal—simon had to grit through the horror of seeing you have a difficulty in sitting down the next few days. until now, he swears that he tried holding back, to take it easy despite his needs, but then you crawled to his lap and sang praises in his ears, and simon was gone.

you were so needy for him. for his skate and his play and his victory. and how could simon control himself then?

so this—your messages that are lidded with a tease—is torture. the flight won’t even be until tomorrow morning so you’ve just left him extremely pent-up, buzzing, with his desires poorly-leashed.

all he could do is send a weak,

when i’m back, can you give it then? <

you’ve only liked his message as a reply and simon knows it for what it is—a deliberate hooking; filling him up with tension. with unbridled energy, all uncontainable, so he can fuck all of that into you.

shit. now he’s all hard underneath his cup.

the quick rub in the shower stalls was not enough so he races to their hotel, locking himself in his room and proceeds to fuck his fist as he swipes at the album he’s locked away in his gallery. it’s the gallery that only you and simon know about.

it’s full of pictures. of videos and audios.

it’s full of you fingering your sensitive pussy, and of simon finally getting his hands on your cunt and dragging you up to his mouth for a taste, and of simon fucking you at every surface—on the island, in the living room, against the window, in front of the mirror.

in some of them, he’s still wearing his jersey. in most of them, you’re the one who has it on.

simon cums once. then rubs another one before the flight because he makes the mistake of rereading your previous message. the release isn’t euphoric; sure, it’s enough to stop the fever, but it was almost too clinical.

you’re still in your gym clothes when simon’s clumsily making his way home. you shriek at the way he just covers you with his bulk, before giggling at the ticklish feeling of his scruff rubbing against your cheek.

“missed you,” he says.

you whine, nodding, before pushing him back just enough that you can finally jump into his arms. simon soaks up the attention, like it’s sticky liquorice, and the nuzzled kisses.

even the words pressed on his lips, he devours but there’s one thing simon needs more, and he’s almost shaking when you finally noticed.

you laugh, poking his cheek, before giving him what he wants.

“your hockey’s so hot, si,” you trill. “fuck me?”

“please,” simon croaks out because that is all he could truly say.

[altarboysalteredboys]

remembering that i am hot is so good for me. i am a very very sexy man and people want to kiss me about it amen

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[angelplummie]

art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

[chestersturniolo]

“Have you ever tried this one?”

Chris Sturniolo x singer!reader

based on “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter & ofc this request

in which; Chris can’t quite seem to hide his excitement whilst he watches you cover “Juno” on tour

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖

It was the middle of your set, and as usual, it was time for the part where you let someone from the crowd request a song for you to cover. You scan the sea of fans until you spot a girl near the front ,waving excitedly. “What would you like me to sing love?” you ask, smiling at her. “Juno by Sabrina Carpenter!” she shouts, her voice small but confident.

“Ooo, good choice!” you reply, and the crowd erupts in cheers, clearly on board with her pick.

You ease into the song. By the time you hit the chorus, they’re fully into it. You know Chris is out there somewhere watching ,so you decide to mess with him a little. when you reach the line, “wanna try out some freaky positions” You lower yourself to your knees, the music pulsing through the stage beneath you, and as you sing, “have you ever tried this one?” you bring your chest down to the floor, arching your back ,as your sultry eyes lock with the camera, as it mirrors on the massive screens around the stadium. The crowd goes absolutely insane.

~

Later that night, you and Chris are back in your hotel room, wrapped up in each other as he praises your performance, his arm draped lazily over you. After a while, he says he’s heading for a shower, leaving you lying on the bed.

With nothing else to do, you grab your phone and start scrolling through TikTok. As you lazily swipe through, a familiar sound stops you-your own voice, coming from your phones speaker. Normally, you avoid watching clips of yourself from the tour. Something about seeing yourself perform always felt a bit strange, but this video was different.

It wasn’t of you—it was of Chris.

The clip showed your earlier performance of “Juno” playing in the background, but the camera was on Chris. As you sang the line, “have you tried this one?” while bending down and smirking into the camera, Chris’s reaction was caught perfectly.

His eyes were glued to the screen, his face flushing a deep red, mouth slightly agape in awe before curling into a smirk, clearly trying to keep his cool but failing miserably. He was utterly mesmerised. You couldn’t help but giggle as you rewatched it, heat rising in your own cheeks. You knew exactly what you were doing when you stared into that camera.

Scrolling down, you giggle even harder at the comments;

“Oh to be Y/N🥹”

“This made me feel so fckin single omg”

“I need a man that looks at me like Chris looks at Y/N fr”

“oh he’s GETTING IT tonight”

“i’ve NEVER seen him blush this hard?!??!”

Just as you’re stifling your giggles, Chris walks back in, towel wrapped low around his waist, hair damp and messy, falling into his eyes. He notices the look on your face and smirks back, a little confused. “What, ma?” he chuckles, his brow raised.

You sit up as he comes to sit beside you on the edge of the bed. You unlock your phone, bringing the video back up. You turn your phone to face him ,playing the video you’d found. His eyebrows furrow slightly at first at the sight of himself. As the video plays through, you watch as his expression almost shifts back into the blushing state the video showed. You giggle as he brings his hands up, dragging them over his face, almost hiding behind them.

“So you liked Juno then huh?” you tease

He finds your eyes, smirking, “oh, i loved Juno” he says, before reaching over and pulling you onto his lap in one quick effortless motion. You let out a laugh as you readjust your knees that are planted either side of him as his hands form a steady grip on your hips.

“Couldn’t take your eyes off that screen, could you?”

He shakes his head, leaning down to litter kisses in the crook of your neck. “Mmph-can you blame me? My girl knows how to put on a show”

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖

a/n; thankyou for the request anonnn!!

more singer!reader here

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @demzzz @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @slut4m4tt @izzylovesmatt @spideylovin

@sturniolossss @sturniolofannnforevver @zariyam @r0s3luvr

@sturniolosluttt

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (2)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (2) a.k.a the one where vernon tours in your city ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, pet names, fluff, best read in order + headcanons under the cut.

🗺️ vernon chwe's guide to new york .ᐟ

📍 Socrates Sculpture Park, 32-01 Vernon Blvd., Astoria

your first date that's not over discord or facetime takes place in new york. vernon's just a little too prideful to have you come all the way to sokor for him and a part of him wants to play it safe. there's a smaller chance of him being recognized abroad than if he were to have you in seoul, so he books the red-eye flight and crashes on your couch for the weekend. he's still a bit jet-lagged when you drag him out to your location of choice. new york has its fair share of parks. vernon is expecting the usual— nature, buskers, the likes— only to find that and so much more. you'd taken him to an artist's park. there's exhibit sculptures, and multimedia installations, and he's just absolutely blown away. you can see it from the look on his face, how taken aback he is by the sheer thoughtfulness of your pick. he doesn't really know the extent of it, not yet, until you clue him in. "do you know what street we're on?" you prompt him as the two of you halve a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. he raises his eyebrows in response. "i chose this place because it's on vernon boulevard," you say, and oh. oh. (or: this is where vernon realizes he's going to be pretty down bad.)

📍 The Bowery Electric, 327 Bowery

it's far from the first time vernon has seen you perform. he's seen all most of your videos on the internet, has watched you at festivals and concerts. there's something different, though, about the way you take the stage at the staple east village hangout. you're in your element underneath the blue and pink neon lights. your sound is full, and your eyes are bright, and it steals the breath from his lungs. you do an entire set until you're sweating and your chest is heaving. he wouldn't be able to look away even if he wanted to. everything about you is so cool. your oversized flannel, your secondhand fender. he thinks there's no way he can adore you more until you announce that you want to do a quick cover of a 'friend's song. the amps crackle. the drums kick up. you start to croon running 'round the whole city for someone to look me in my eyes and tell me pretty lies, and vernon swears he can just drop dead then and there. you come up to him afterwards, one corner of your lip twitching in to a smirk. as if to say 'so? what did you think?' (or: this is where vernon first thinks he might actually be in love with you.)

📍 The Basilica of St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, 263 Mulberry St.

when you tell him that you're taking him to church for a date, vernon is admittedly a little unnerved. at this point, he's already fairly sure that he loves you. you haven't said it yet, so he tries to keep his own admission under lock and key. a church, though? "are we going to elope?" he jokes to you, trying (and failing) to not sound nervous. thankfully, you roll your eyes and laugh instead of taking offense. "you wish," you shoot back. that puts him at ease enough for him to be completely normal with you in the back of the cab. when you get to the cathedral, though, he immediately puts two and two together. "is this—?" he starts to ask, his mouth agape. there's a smug look on your face as you nod. it's the church in one of vernon's favorite films, the godfather. he's barely even walked past the doors of it before he blurts out, "god, i love you." he freezes. you freeze. and then— "you sure you're not the one who wants to elope, chwe?" you tease. vernon's ears are burning red with shame, but then he hears the quiet way you add, "i love you, too, by the way." (or: this is where vernon learns just how good it feels, to say and hear those three words.)

📍 Staten Island Ferry

throughout at least half of the ferry ride, vernon is convinced you're going to break up with him. he's been a pretty terrible boyfriend. comeback season had been brutal and the upcoming world tour meant that he would have even less time to make up for his shortcomings. he's tried, he's been trying, but it's been hard. and so as the two of you hang on the back of the ferry's lower deck with the manhattan skyline receding, he thinks: this is it. he's going to lose the best thing that has ever happened to him. you start the conversation with "i'm sorry," and vernon resist the urge to get to his knees. you surprise him when you go on to say, "i've been pretty shitty to you lately, huh?" you talk about your temper, your schedule, your occasional unresponsiveness. your voice wavers in the slightest when you mumble, "i understand if you want to—" no. "no," vernon says quickly, immediately. before he can think of it, his hand is already reaching out to hold yours. the surprise and hope that fills your face is almost enough to bowl him over. "i don't want that," he reassures you. "i'll never want that." he means it. he surprises himself with just how much he means it. (or: this is where vernon decides that he's in it for the long run.)

📍 Little Bay Bridge Pier, Queens

vernon's attempt at planning a date on your turf ends up to be an utter failure. you don't see it that way, at least. you're too nice to call him out for the way everything kind of went to shit, from his credit card declining at the restaurant to the museum he wanted to see being closed for renovations. by the time the day is coming to a close, he's desperate for at least one thing to go right. vernon is not a religious man, but he prays, then, to every higher being and deity known to man. please, give me this. he's convinced they all hate him, though, because while the both of you are sitting by the pier— about to try what he researched to be the best churros in queens— a rat steals the snack. vernon briefly considers throwing himself in to the water. he doesn't know if he should be annoyed or relieved that you're laughing it all off. he settles for something in between. "this is not a laughing matter," he huffs, even though there's the smallest smile on his face. it's the only thing he can do to hide his disappointment. then, a little more seriously, he says, "i wanted to do right by you." it's a grace that you know how to deal with him. there's a fondness in your eyes as you press your lips to the back of his knuckles, the action making his heart skip a beat. "hansol," you say sweetly. not vernon, not v. not babe or baby boy or anything else. you assure him, "you're always right for me," and he wants so badly to believe you. (or: this is where vernon changes his prayer; this time, he begs to never wrong you.)

[barcaatthemoon]

eleven || alexia putellas x reader ||

Alexia sees you in her jersey for the first time.

18+

Seville had been a frustrating game. You could see it written all over Alexia's face. She had expected them to do better, as had everyone else. You knew that Alexia took their somewhat lackluster performance on personally. She's bore the brunt of the loss, and it would be up to you to make things right for her when the two of you got back.

You had signed to Arsenal to join Mariona and Laia, but an early season injury sent you back to Spain. There was a great medical staff in London, but they weren't the people you were used to. Besides, it was easier to be close to Alexia as you worked on your recovery. She was one of the few people who could keep you out of your own head.

"I'm going to head into the shower, you're welcome to join me," you said. Alexia just brushed it off, choosing to flop back onto the couch and watch game highlights instead. You huffed and puffed a bit, but didn't try to get her to follow you. Shower sex wasn't in the cards for you, but you'd get Alexia when you got out. She was not going to spend all weekend cooped up on the couch when you were headed back to London for a physical in a few days.

Your shower was quick, and you were sure to use the shampoo, conditioners, and body washes that Alexia loved the most. You put on one of Alexia's jerseys from last season that was hanging up in the closet. All she had wanted for years was to see you in a Barcelona jersey, but you had refused. The Barca girls were your friends, and you'd always support them, but when it came to Spanish teams, you were a Madrid girl.

"Ale, baby, will you come here please!" you called out into the apartment. Alexia sighed heavily as she paused the video she was watching to come check on you. Alexia hadn't been sure what to expect, but you very obviously wearing just one of her jerseys as you sat on the bed was not at all it. "What's the matter? Are you still in your head because of the game?"

"Is that my shirt?" Alexia asked as she hooked her finger into the collar. You nodded as you began to turn around so that she could see her name and number on the back. "Fuck, do you have any idea how hot you are right now?"

"You can shut up, pin me down, and show me," you told her. Alexia didn't need any sort of prodding after that line. She grabbed onto your hips and dragged you backwards just enough so that her hips could easily press against your.

"This is how things always should have been. These colors look good on you, and you have no idea what it's doing to me to see you in my number with my name on your back." Alexia's fingers traced over the number and her last name as she spoke. "All of those adoring fans wearing my name, but you're the one that matters. You're the one that I want to see it on all the time."

"Ale," you whined as you pushed your hips back a bit. Alexia let her hands drift down from her jersey to tease you. You leaned forward just a bit, spreading your thighs to fully reveal yourself to Alexia. She licked her lips as she leaned over your body. You could feel her weight against your back, causing you to relax a little more.

"You want me so bad. I bet you'd lose your pretty little mind if I didn't touch you like this," Alexia said. You rocked back against her fingers, moving just enough to help her penetrate you. "You're soaked, and I haven't done anything. Did you get so wet watching me? Tell me how long you've been waiting for this."

"Ale, I always want you. I've been waiting all day for you to touch me like this. You know how you were teasing me this morning, I can't help it." The hand on your hip tightened at your words. Alexia slowly began to move you back and forth on her fingers, watching as your cunt eagerly took them in.

"Fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how bad you want me," Alexia told you. Her grip on your hips stayed, but she stopped pulling you back against her fingers. You moved at a steady pace, adjusting your speed as your body began craving more. Alexia bit her lip as she watched you, not paying attention to where her fingers was, but rather her name and number on your back.

You were starting to get close when you felt Alexia lean over your back. Her lips pressed several kisses on the side of your neck as her fingers curled inside of you. She could feel every little spasm of the muscles inside of you, squeezing around her fingers. The hand on your hip drifted around so that Alexia could rub your clit, pushing you completely over the edge.

"Stay like this, let me soak it in," Alexia whispered in your ear as she leaned back. You were still on your stomach with your back turned to Alexia. She ran her fingers over her number a few more times before she finally turned you over and kissing you. "I love you."

"I love you too," you mumbled as you pulled her in for another kiss. Alexia stayed on top of you, cuddling up against your side. You wrapped your arm around her waist to keep her still as the two of you decompressed together. "Ale, can you get me some pants?"

"Absolutely not. I like you like this," Alexia whined. You turned your head to pout at her, and Alexia let out a little grumble as she went to get you underwear and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. "You look good in my number."

"I had to do something to get you off the couch. I hate it when you sit there and sulk after games, especially when you win," you told her. Alexia looked like she was going to deny that she planned to sulk, but one look from you stopped that argument before it started.

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving VII

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Olympic chaos with your sister

Y/NPutellas.S has started a live video. Click to join!

"-Got two backpacks," You're saying as Alexia clicks on your video," I think one of them might become my racket bag because the one I'm using right now is falling apart."

You shove the bags away, glancing around the space as you drag more towards you.

"There's a toiletry bag as well which is full of stuff I probably won't even use."

You pause as you scroll through the comments.

"What sport am I competing in? Oh, I'm doing tennis...Who will be the hardest to play against? Iga, always. I train with her most of the time and I think I've only beaten her a few matches this year. She's scary. Coco always gives me a good competition too. I think she text me a few hours ago but I haven't answered just yet."

You go back to showing off your haul.

You're very complimentary of all of the shoes but you seem confused as to why you've been given so many socks.

Alexia takes a screenshot of a weird face you make while trying on the bucket hat and hastily makes it her profile picture.

"I'm not a fan of the opening skirt," You tell your followers," It's not really my style. I'll wear it because I have to but...What's that? My sister's here?"

You crowd a bit closer to your phone, brows furrowed as you scroll up looking for Alexia's comments.

She feels triumphant at the look of horror on your face when you see her profile picture.

"Alexia!" You shriek," Change it back! My eyes aren't even open! Ale, please!"

Alexia does not change it back and you swear under your breath at her.

"I'm telling Mama!"

Alexia Putellas: Go ahead, you little snitch

"I'm not a snitch!"

Alexia Putellas: Yes, you are

"Don't listen to her guys! She's such a liar!"

You've always been more active on social media than Alexia and fans eat up any content you post on your TikTok. Most of your fans are just people that watch tennis but you've gone viral overnight when you posted a video of you and Iga reuniting at the Olympic Village.

Suddenly, everyone wants content from you and you're posting more than you ever have before.

A lot of it still centres around your tennis, out on the practice courts with the rest of team Spain but there's more domestic things like you retaping your racket grip and showing off everything in the Olympic Village.

Something in Alexia snaps when you make a video complaining about how uncomfortable your cardboard bed is. Suddenly, she's stitching your video.

Her camera pans across her normal hotel bed and ends with her giving a thumbs up to the camera with a smug grin on her face.

Her own fans go crazy over her posting something outside of sponsorships and it's strange to see that some people don't even know who you are.

woso.alexia.engen: Who was the first person in the video???? -> captainklittle: Alexia's little sister! She's representing Spain for tennis!

A second stitch appears hours later, piggybacking off a video of you complaining about your lack of AC. There's no sound apart from the very deliberate flick of Alexia's own AC switch.

It seems every complaint you post, Alexia finds a way to show off how much better she has it in a hotel outside of Paris.

You decide, perhaps a little pettily, to show off what she's missing.

"Hi, guys!" You say," I know a lot of people were wondering about pin trading so I thought I would bring you along for the ride! I've already got a Poland one from Iga and a US one from Coco but I've been wanting a Team GB one and I'm also meeting up with Paolini so she can give me an Italy one."

It's another live video and thank god there's a break in training, so Alexia can jump onto it again.

Jenni and Misa crowd around her at the same time, curious as to what's going on with you.

"I was talking to Carlos at breakfast and he was telling me that the coaches have ordered us all mattress toppers because the beds have started to affect how we're performing."

Alexia Putellas: Sucks to be you, doesn't it?

"Alexia, I swear to god if you keep bullying me then I'm telling Mama and she'll fly out to whoop your ass!"

Alexia Putellas: 🤪

"And Jenni I knew that it's you that just sent that because Alexia doesn't understand emojis."

"Fuck," Jenni mutters.

"Wait, give me the phone. I'll fix it," Misa says.

Alexia Putellas: Who's Jenni?

"Misa, I know that's you as well. Stop trying to cover for each other and I'll tell Mama and she'll whoop all of you."

Alexia doesn't get her phone back for the rest of your live but she does get a strongly worded text from Eli after it's over to grow up and not let her friends bully you.

Alexia calls you a snitch.

You remind her that she should stop bullying you.

"Look who it is!" Jenni cajoles as you come running out of the village to crash into Alexia," Baby Putellas!"

But you're not really listening to her as Alexia presses her forehead against yours, whispering fast Catalan to you as you giggle.

"Aw..." Misa continues where Jenni left off," Look at them! Two sisters! Reunited!"

You and Alexia push each other away, turning your back and pretending that you weren't hugging just a few moments ago.

You turn back to her quickly, hand out. "Can I have your pins?"

"What? No! They're mine!"

"You're not even in the Village! You can't use them!"

"Yes I can!" Alexia splutters out," I've been trading them!"

"Yeah? With who?"

"Jenni!"

"Liar! You've got the same pins! Come on, Ale. Give them over!"

"I will...for a price."

As Alexia lays out her terms, you bring everyone up to your room.

Jenni and Misa split off briefly to check out the dining hall but Alexia comes straight up with you.

"It's actually cardboard," She says, poking at your bed frame.

"Yeah? Do you think we were all lying about that? It's proper cardboard. You can draw on it if you want."

A smile splits your sister's face open.

"Never mind. I don't want you drawing on my bed."

Alexia pokes it. "Do you think it's true? That two people can't get on it at the same time?"

You shrug, rummaging through your bedside table. "I don't know. Why?"

You never get your answer though.

Arms are around your waist suddenly and you're being hauled backwards as Alexia slams herself onto your bed, dragging you back with her.

You may not get an answer but Alexia certainly does because the moment the two of you land, there's an almighty ripping noise and your bed goes to ground very quickly.

"Oops," You sister says.

"Alexia!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't sound very sorry at all."

"Yeah...You're right. I'm not sorry in the slightest. Hey! Stop hitting me!"

"You're lucky I'm not beating you with my rackets!"

"Hey. Hey! It's fine! You can get a new bed."

"Jenni and Misa are going to take the piss out of me! How could you do this, Ale?"

As annoying as your sister is, she at least has the decency to push the blame off onto her friends as you both hastily raise your bed up again and wait for Jenni and Misa to arrive.

They seem to have the same idea as Alexia, jumping onto your bed without so much of a greeting.

But, as planned, the bed collapses under them and the shock of their faces is enough for Alexia breaking your bed to be worth it. Their faces are even funnier as they head downstairs to ask for a new one for you.

Behind your back, Alexia passes you a handful of pins.

JenniHermoso10 has started a live video. Click to join!

"Forward! Forward!"

"I am going forward!"

"More forward! When I say forward, it doesn't mean shuffle! It means walk forward! You're a person not a pigeon!"

"And here we have Olympic football player Alexia Putellas and Olympic tennis player y/n Putellas, attempting to climb onto the rings," Jenni narrates from behind the camera.

"It's not going well," Misa says, as Alexia nearly throws you from your spot on her shoulders," Alexia is clearly struggling."

"I'm not struggling!" Alexia insists, yelping as you twist her hair in your hands.

"Forward!

"This is as forward as I can get!"

"That's such bullshit! Move closer!"

"I can't!"

"You can!"

"I don't think they're ever going to make it," Jenni says," It's like they can't-"

"Stop! Ale, stop! Left a bit. No! Too left. Right again. Left! Right! Left!"

"Left, right, forward, back," Alexia mutters," Make up your mind."

"Left and...got it...Wait! Don't let go!"

You haul yourself from your sister's shoulders onto the centre ring, positioning yourself perched on the sliver of the yellow ring that enters the black one.

"Alright," Alexia says," Give me a hand."

"What? No! You'll pull me off!"

"Give me your hand!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She braces herself on the lower rings and grabs your hand, pulling herself into the centre ring before you can even shove her off.

"Oh," She says," That was pretty easy." Alexia grins at you but the smile drops from her face when she notices the pensive look you're wearing. "What is it?"

"I've just realised," You laugh in disbelief," When Mama said she wanted a picture of us and the rings. I think she meant in front of them. Not in them."

"Oh."

[sea-of-dust]

You gotta be kidding...

5wirl x GN! Reader

Summary: They make a reference to something personal between you two while performing live. Almost putting a spotlight on you.

Notes: Modern AU, mention of irl video game and band: Remmber Sports (they're good recommend Tiny Planets),

Warnings: suggestive humor, swearing, never expect proof reading

He met you before he was an idol. High school to be exact. You two were in the same music class bonding over how much you dreaded your music teacher. "He sounds like a divorced mom.." "isn't he married?" "Exactly" you flop onto your desk

You two have been in almost every class together years afterward, just so you didn't have to work with a stranger for group projects. People would would find you two around school alot and walking home together. "And they were roommates," one of your classmates giggle as you two casually hold hands while speaking to eatchother, in reality, you both didn't notice

He was always so calm but also somehow could smell your problems?!? "Ughhhh" "Lemme guess they chewed gum loudly again?" You spring up placing your head back down. "Stop knowing based off my grunts!" "And you're mad at me for not noticing something earlier" "HA!-" "nm it's because I didn't let you sleep in" "...I genuinely despise you"

He started catching feelings midway through your first semester of the new school year. You did notice he sometimes hugged you tighter, looked at you a little longer, he even got small trinkets for you, noticing how fond he looked when you casually wore them.

It was by the end of the year he had told you he got a scouted as an idol, it took alot for him to tell you but it worked thank god you didn't ditch him like he thought.

"So uh..." "?" "I got scouted" your eyes widen, he thought all his fears came to life before you hugged him tightly and squealed. "I TOLD YOU YOU HAD A NICE VOICE!!" "You didn't have to yell" "Shut up you cry over stuff like this!" Now you were the one that oddly knew things about him...you were right...he did cry...alot like the whole group knew the next day.

The group try to hype him up into asking you out. "DUDEEEE COME ON THEYRE NOT GOING ANYWHERE" "I can ask to hangout" he mutters holding his phone in his hand "COME ONNN" venti and heizou sync up kazuha speaking up "ask them to go for dinner" his cheeks turn pink almost instantly "UH MAYBE NOT COME ON- WHAT IF-" "and sent" "WHEN DID YOU TAKE MY PHONE?!" "You'll live" Xiao rolls his eyes as aether bickers with him, his phone noti goes off. "Sure what time?" There's a silence in the room as Xiao gives him the phone. "At 4?" "bet ☆" you and those star emojis how are you like this. "ITS A DATE!!" "YEAAAAAAA" they sounded like a frat house.

He gets all giddy on that date and when you two finally go on one you finally hit the maybe were dating phase but you both don't wanna admit it to eatchother. So the rest of 5wirl planned something for you two. "Alr we know he likes them nowww...." "we...." "Why don't we perform for them" "on their friend ani?" "How do you know that..." they turn to heizou "because he saved it on his calander" "..." and so they planned out your ani for you two.

And so their evil plans acted out perfectly, you two went out on another date and later that day you dropped him off at the concert. What you didn't expect was heizou dragging you to a seat. "Stay right here and don't move alright" you watched them get on stage aether seeming to be looking for you, they get to performing when one of the lyrics hit you. "Hey why don't you meet me at four?" An almost slured pronunciation followed by aether finally finding you. His eyes so tender yet teasing. You felt your heart skip a beat a small wink only making you more bashful.

To think the performance would end there nope. As you tried to get off your seat aether greets you with a cheeky smile a small ring in his hand. You turn around quickly. "I guess I flustered you more than he ever will" he leans on you wrapping his arms casually around your waist while you continues to fluster you. "He was just a small crush..." "enough to have you gush for 4 months about it" he laughs softly kissing you cheek. "When did you even gain this much confidence" "small words of advice" your mind immediately goes to Heizou. "Alrighty then..." without a warning you pull your face closer forcing him to slouch over you. "Did heizou tell you what to do incase of this situation aswell?" Thank god that concert hall was almost empty and the seat you were at made it almost impossible to see you two because the next thing you see and hear are a bunch of idiots going YEAAAAAAAAAAA. Aether x y/n shirts and a poster held up by Xiao. They ship it.

You made cute accessories! He's seen your work on social media and reached out. "You're accessories are so cute do you have a store?" "Nah I only sell locally near my college" turns out you both went to the same college he's never did a double check so fast in his life. As soon as he saw you he cupped one of your hands, his eyes sparkling in pure joy. "GIMMIE EVERYTHING IN STOCK!" "HUH?!"

Number one fan he's following you around. He'd be your personal advertisement always wearing your stuff and flexing it to others. He WILL be the most annoying person on campus

When you tell him to stop he just kinda tilts his head until he realizes what your saying as if he finally loaded. "Oh! Alright!" That's when you make an almost massive mistake "I did enjoy your support tho but youre-" "SO YOU LIKE HAVING A FAN?!" And so began the simping. He's all over you. Every class your with him? He's leaning into you, whispering random stuff in your ear. Your eyebags got darker everytime he did this but he was more chill than your online fans.

The days you also leaned into him are the days you've never seen someone more flustered. "Hm?" You lift up your head watching him cover his face quickly. "Venti?" He turns away from you even more. "Don't look at me! Where did you even learn that-" "I mean you do that to me all the time" "don't say it outloud-" "did you just whimper?" He stops suddenly using is braids to cover his face as he mumbles to himself. You bring that up to traumatize him

He had to get used to you showing affection, you weren't even dating yet! Come on, don't do this! Even a small smile he'd tease you for it but he'd definitely scream into his pillow about it.

He only asked you out when you made your feeling for him known. A small note under his door telling asking him to meet up at an amusement park later that weekend was where it clicked he looked and sounded like a little girl you could hear his "YEAAAAAAAA" from your room.

He's doing everything he's on a call with the others he just needs them to hear his my story animated from start to finish. "Can you not play that effen punk music main stream shit can barely hear you" "Shut the fuck up hot topic this is important!" "This is why you fucked up your eyeliner" "I DID?!?!" He checked in his mirror realizing he didn't and mostly argued with Xiao. "If they ditch you you deserve it" "quit being a downer! Good luck Venti!" They all mostly wave at the camera before hanging up leaving you and him alone for the evening

He loved it. He was like a child pointing at things he wanted. "Do you have the money?" He looks away pounting "not an actual question I'll play for it" his eyes widen almost sparkling. You two left flexing your carnival game knowledge and venti covered in plush prizes you won for him.

As payback for the newfound plush army, he invited you to a concert. "Oh so you did have money" "Shut up" "hehe" your teasingly small laugh is so cute stop doing that. What you didn't know is that he strapped some keychains you made on his belt, and he NEVER STOPPED WINKING, if you had to drink everytime he found you in the audience and winked you'd have five drinks...per song. It was cute seeing him smirk whenever you slightly blushed at him.

"Y/n!!" He smiles as you wait for him outside the concert hall. "Lets go to another amusement park!" He giggles embracing you "right now?" "Yea!" He nuzzles his face into your chest "sure..when you take off all of those keychains Jesus how much did you-" "200 bucks" "...VENTI" "THEYRE CUTE I KNOW YOU EYED THEM!" You blush slightly smirking "I did...they look adorable on you" you struck him right in the heart leaving both of you flustered. "The amusement parks a few blocks away" "LETS GO!" as if it never happened you both headed to the amusement park.

You beat him at a rhythm game he liked. You got first in a video game event he liked since then him he's declared you his rival. "Who the hell is this guy getting in the way of the number one spot" he grits his teeth checking your profile. "347 full combed songs...300 all perfects...and maxed out cards" he rolls his eyes

He wanted to let off some steam at an arcade only to find out he got beat in that game also! With the same name tag as the rythum game champ. He nearly smashes the machine when he notices you step up to it. "Shame, this games kinda better when I'm kicking someone's ass..." You sigh only now, noticing him, smirking at this chance you take it. "You mind playing this with me?" You perk up. Thinking this is a good way to let off steam, he accepts. "I won't go easy." "Alright!" You let him pick the song and almost immediately grab the handbar

Strange, he thinks he doesn't need it. As soon as the song starts, he hears your feet absolutely slam on the board. He's shocked but doesn't look over he's focused on his side of the screen. By the end, you huff heavily, looking up. "You won." You put your fist up for a fist bump. "Ah that songs so annoying~" he dosent give you one back putting in his names for national ranks. That's when he noticed that you put in the name the person on every rythum game had and as soon as you pressed confirm he nearly pounces on you. "SO YOURE THE ONE TAKING THE NUMBER 1 SPOTS EVERYWHERE!" "Yea what about it-" he looks at you angrily, calming down a bit before turning back to you. "I declare you my rival" "well...If you wanna we could rematch sometime gimmie your number?"

Ever since then you two have skeduled days to go to the arcade to whale on eatchother and going out to eat afterword. "I'm pretty sure you'd like it reminds me of your face ☆" you say as you point to a horrible cgi skeleton. "Screw you" "heh". You'd eventually open up to him more and invited him out to places more often. He didn't wanna say it outloud but he genuinely enjoyed those moments

One of the times you two went, you try to teach him gutair hero, he kinda mumbles to himself. "You can just play on your lap" "hmmhmm mhm em You can't be this msm hm" "what-" he realizes he said that outloud and covers his face nearly dropping the gutair. "I didn't hear that last part" he sighs in relief "but do you think im cute?" And so he's even more ashamed of himself. "Context clues" you scratch your cheek in a bit of embrassment "I think you're pretty cute too" you embarssingly laugh leaning away

you're pretty sure you could see his heart skip a beat as he looks up at you, his face nearly entirely pink. Peaking at you through his hand. You decide to tease your friend. "Seems like you wanna date me~" He moves back quickly, covering his mouth to hide his blushing. "I'm fine with that ya know~" you lean into him him still covering his face. He looks away looking back at you,his eyes softening "I'm fine with the thought of kissing you..well maybe a little more than fine but-" your words were cut off as you feel his lips touch yours. Quick yet soft, his hands wrapping around your shoulders. You lean back trying to catch your breath "...how long have you've been waiting to do that?" "...a few months now" "That's kinda adorable Xiao" you lean in for another kiss. You two recount that day as your first date

Ever since then he's more willing to hang out a little more clingy too. Whenever he had a show he would ask you if you were busy that day before sending you the ticket link. "Hey are you busy on the 14th?" "No why?" He'd send you the link without a secound thought "you know I'm not really into idols that much" "I'm in the group..." "...bought"

He actively looks for you in the audience. You would text him where you were sitting beforehand, yet he'd still look like a lost puppy. As soon as he finds you, his eyes sparkled. He forced himself to calm down before giving you a small wave

It was by the end of the show where he was performing the last song and you noticed something about their dance it kinda looked like what you would do on a song you knew well. It was then that you realized Xiao made a dance routine inspired by your sweaty gaming dance. You covered your face in embrassment but peaked through your hands. You couldn't believe he paid that much attention to you. He smirks noticing this

As the show ends, he runs over to you, "That was...a little embrassing" you blush a bit. "..." "dosent mean I didn't like it tho!" Trying not to offend him further you mumble on of how great the performance was. At first he's pretty stiff with his arms crossed you'd think he was annoyed till he kissed you again leaning in to hug you. "I'm glad you liked it" he whispers ever so softly in your ear.

He offen saw you working on projects for bands he likes and decided to commission you. He invited you to a studio and you both began to focus on what he commissioned you on. "I'm looking for something calm yet something someone would listen to in the morning to wake them up..." "hmmm" you play a calm chord progression on your gutair. "Speed up a bit" he taps his foot as if keeping pace as you speed up your playing. "That's pretty good! Sounds like a Remmber sports song" " YOU LISTEN TO THEM?" "Yea?" "Oh my god I thought you wouldn't catch that-" "they're a bit of a guilty pleasure"

You two always worked together after that whenever he would be lost in thought you'd just play hall of the mountain king behind him. He'd turn around slowly as your playing got more intense. "You think of something?" "..."

You pretty much became 5wirl's offical gutairst after kazuha recommended you. They'd make fun of him for how long you two stayed at the studio together. "Kazuha~, you left us sleeping in the shopping cart again!" Venti grins ear to ear "must really like that gutairst." Kazuha smiles."They're just a friend I find it easy to get along with" he thinks about what you two were talking about his eyes softening as if it were an old fond memory "and he's doing it again" heizou sighs jokingly

A few months of performing together, they treat you as family, almost apart of 5wirl. As soon as Kazuha ever left the room they'd turn to you in a heartbeat. "You sure you don't kiss when we're not looking?" "Eh?!" "Does kazuha usually get all mumbly around you" "he does but-" "I KNEW IT" "dose he show you his unironic leaf collection" they all lean in expectingly. "No wha-" You made sure kazuha was too far to hear what you were about to say "...OK so this one time..." they listened to you like their lives depended on it.

The day you told them about that is the day you regret the most, they always looked you and kazuha up and down. Snicker to themselves. "How much you wanna bet they might kiss today" "CAN YOU TWO CUT IT OUT" you let out a sigh walking into the recording studio to practice, a familiar humming following you in a few secounds later. You two sing together and when you finish he finally speaks up. "You know... this the song I was playing when I first realized I was into you" "heh really" you stop strumming, realizing what he said "wait what-" he laughs softly at your reaction placing a hand on your cheek. "That songs kinda special to me..." he holds your hand tenderly with his unbandaged hand. "Reminds me of how much I love you" your eyes widen a bit as he looks at you with the most soft eyes. "I love you too kazuha" you smile gently, letting him lean in to kiss you

All of them noticed you two were dating it was odvious, the way you two acted around eatchother gave litterally everything away. "You two give eatchother less personal space than before are you dating?" "What?" "And you smell like him-" "how do you know what he smells like" "so you're dating?!" "How did you come to that conclusion?!" You and venti would bicker trying to hide your relationship with kazuha after he forgot to tell you he already told them.

Finally a show came along a small gig surprising a popular idol group would show, but still nice. You looked at the music sheet for the song looked up at him, sighed, and looked back. He looked so pleased giving you a few riffs and you look down to see another reason to go to therapy.

What he didn't put on hell on paper was a very veryyy familiar cord progression. He played it himself and put it in post. Making another version so if you ever asked you wouldn't notice, and a few weeks later they went live

You watched them in the audience, hearing the song you helped on and felt your smile fade into a straight face as you heard your solo along with the memorable melody gutair. He saw this trying to avoid a giggle while performing, he's suffering from you brainrot the rest of the show, some fancams caught him getting kicked by heizou or Xiao.

"So how did you like the show~" "Xiao almost kicked you off the stage..." There's a silence. "He dosent kick hard enough for that...but at least you enjoyed it" he smiles, pinching your cheeks and rubing your face, you look away hearing him giggle at your behavior. "I'll make you a coffee-" "don't you dare make a reference" he smirks at you "hehe"

You were online friends usually playing main stream games or random stuff you found. Youd always play together though, never single player! He hates that

"Are you playing a single player game..." "no-" "LIAR ITS ON YOUR STATUS" "SHIT- I mean I have no idea what your talking about" "...atleast stream it" he always got all pouty when he couldn't play with you

He'd definitely randomly interrogate you because you found something out on someone you both knew. "IS IT ABOUT-" "shush shus shu stfu quiet" "oh come on dude what is she gonna hear you?" "We're in a public call" "oh...LMAO" "DUDE"

When you combine both these loves, his love for you playing a co-op detective game with you has become the best thing for him to ever experience. "Who will be first to solve this?" "We're supposed to work together heizou" "oh...oh 😏" "nevermind I'm gonna play hitman without you" his avatar suddenly turns to face you and emotes a shocked reaction "OH COME ON"

He started catching feelings for a while. Ever since you two got on a call for the first time, your voice kinda intransted him. "Your voice Is so nicee" muttering into the mic yet you heard him clearly. "Thank you?" "It really is" its like you can see him currently slumped over his desk just day dreaming about you.

Didn't stop your offline friend for teasing you about him too. "Ooo he's into you~" "nuh uh nope nope!" The tips of your ears turn a pink. "And you like him back might aswell seal the deal" "STOP IT!" Blushing heavily you slam your hand down. Unsurprisingly Heizous in a simular situation 4nemo teasing him over just how much he talks about you. "Ohhh they're so cool" "they smell nice" "stop mocking me" he huffs "then get with them" they say in sync "stop weirdly harmonizing" he sits down covering his currently pink face.

Didn't help when you two first saw eatchother. "What the hell you live so closeby" "I know right what's next you're at my favorite Cafe conveniently the next table over" you turn over your shoulder seeing someone smile at their phone turn back and type "you mentioned before you had moles under both eyes right?" The persons face dropping looking around."Yea?" Without typing back, you walk over sitting infrot of him. "Bro, someone's sitting at my table, hold on" you smile at him typing back "oh sorry lemme just leave then my mistake 😔" "WAIT HUH?!?!" his eyes widen as he grabs your wrist "y/n?" small tears forming in his eyes pulling you into a hug with desperation. "Heizou" he hugs you tighter when he hears his name come out your mouth. "You're as pretty as I thought you'd be..." patting his head as he nuzzles into your chest. "You wanna go back to mine after this" "Yes!" With sudden enthusiasm, you two talk about your irl lives while bullying his drink of choice. "Pumpkin spice.." "oh my god shut up my again" "it's nasty" "it's good to me!!" "Shut up mom with 2 kids living in a van"

He's been going to your house at least once a week now "we should play together" he overbites his lip "I barely charged my secound controller" you overbite your lip back at him "then let's just hang out then I got news bby" visibly cringing at that last bit you let him in with him near instantly showing you a picture of him being accepted into an idol group. "Ohh you're gonna have real fangirls now" "Shut up!" "I'm gonna lead them just to make fun of you" "you're the only fangirl I'd date" "..." You visibly cringe "OH COME ON" "HAHAHA"

And so you were invited to the hell known as a debut concert and dear god was it near impossible to not be as hype as the crowd. Especially catching the fancams with him winking at you. Anyone could tell he was super inlove with whoever he was winking at especially after the group stopped in between a song witch you were barely paying attention to until you heard "I hope you guys never have to play solo!" Could have swore you felt him glare at you "speaking of solo the next songs title is-" all you paid attention to yet you look like you just woke up from a really loud noise.

"Y/n! Did you see it! Did ya like my moves" he smiles at you like a happy little dog. "It was surprisingly great Heizou" "surprising huh?" He pouts as if saddened by that comment. "But the show was amazing Heizou I'd go again" that bright glow of a smile you had is something hell never let go of, without hesitation he holds your hand "marry me" "come again?" "I mean it we should date!" Accidental slip up. He's screwed, you're gonna reject him so blatantly he's never gonna bother you again. "Heizou...that's so sudden" your eyes meet warmly "but I've been thinking the same" kissing his cheek you walk off letting him process what just happened. "WAIT WAIT WAIT YOURE NOT DITCHING ME AFTER SAYING THAT" "MAYBE I AM!" You had to run home that day but it was worth it laughing at him trying to keep up.

[loveinhawkins]

i’ve recently become aware of this starcourt mall commercial & i’m dying at the thought of Eddie seeing it, bored out of his mind, until Steve appears on screen with that stupid sailor’s hat and the world’s most awkward, “Ahoy!”, and, oh, Eddie’s grin is evil.

“Why did you tape over Dallas?” Wayne asks that night.

“Wayne,” Eddie says solemnly, “I needed to record the best moment of my life.”

Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

Spring Break of ‘86 is a few weeks away—thanks to one distracted moment, Eddie unknowingly puts the wrong tape in the case before returning a rental to Family Video, then speeding off to band practice.

Steve doesn’t notice the mixup until a few hours later, when he routinely opens the VHS cases to check that the tapes have been rewound. When he sees the tape devoid of any movie sticker, he can’t resist watching it; his shift is dragging by.

He gets 20 minutes into Dallas before it cuts off, and the commercial plays.

His jaw drops, and he groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing when he calls for Robin in the back room, and then they’re watching it together, cracking up. They both remember filming it, remember looking at each other and swearing to never speak of it again, but they’d never actually seen it, and well… it is pretty funny.

Steve gets an evil grin of his own when he sees that the rental account is in Eddie’s name.

When he calls, he gets Mr. Munson on the phone, and because Steve can also be a meddling little shit when the conditions are right, he makes up some story about the store having new forms, that he just needs Eddie to sign one quickly.

The next day, Eddie strolls in, and Steve looks him right in the eye.

“Ahoy, Munson,” he says, deadpan.

Eddie freezes in place. He briefly considers turning around and walking into traffic.

“Harrington,” he says stiffly.

“Hey, man,” Steve says, relentlessly chipper, “so we’re kinda down on one copy of—” He glances over to the computer. “—Life of Brian, and up one copy of, uh…” He lifts Eddie’s tape off the counter, smirks. “I guess, half of Dallas.”

Eddie stalks over. “It was… for school,” he blurts out unconvincingly. “Recording Hawkins history. Nothing personal, King Steve.”

Steve lets the venom in the nickname bounce off him. “Starcourt was pretty, uh, historic,” he says mildly, fighting another smirk.

“Whatever,” Eddie snaps, losing what little patience he has left—despite all of his performances to the contrary, the thought of people laughing at him still makes his skin crawl. “Let me get out of your massive hair, Harrington, and I’ll bring your fucking video back.”

Steve raises one hand, palm out. “Woah, chill,” he says, and as Eddie’s nostrils flare, he feels a little twinge of guilt; he didn’t actually mean for all of this to come across as mean-spirited or anything. “Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.” But he looks a little calmer, raises an eyebrow. Well?

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the tape, and he doesn’t react when Eddie snatches it back. “Oh, and I extended the rental on your movie.” He shrugs. “Saves you a double trip, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, after a pause.

“No biggie.” And when Eddie makes to leave, Steve calls, “Hey, Munson?”

Eddie turns at the door, no longer quite as cagey. “What?”

Steve shrugs again. “Thanks for the mixup, I guess?”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says flatly.

“No, I mean it, dude. Like, once I got over the, well, embarrassment of, um, everything, it was actually kinda… nice to see it.” He nods to Robin in one of the aisles, guiding a customer over to a movie. “Me and Robin, we—it was nice to have something about Starcourt that we could laugh at.”

Eddie considers him. “Were you in the fire?”

Steve smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s more than straightforward sadness on his face. “Yeah, got caught up in it.”

Eddie slowly, thoughtfully, opens the door but doesn’t leave, leans against it. He looks Steve up and down. “Damn shame you don’t have a hat in your get-up here, Harrington.”

Steve mock scowls, ruffles his hair. “I’m not suffering through that again.”

Eddie finds himself smiling without meaning to. “You poor thing. I guess once is enough.”

And Steve rolls his eyes this time. “Yeah, yeah, once. You’ve goddamn immortalised it, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, but I had to,” he says, tucking the tape under his arm, “for posterity. In a hundred years, there’ll be sonnets written about your sailor outfit, Steve Harrington.”

And, whoops, that wasn’t planned, Eddie thinks. Laying it on a bit thick there.

Steve laughs, but not at him; Eddie can tell now. “Go enjoy your Saturday, Munson.”

Eddie gives a lazy salute. “Ahoy.”

And as Eddie leaves, he spots a note on the counter, next to the usual Be kind, rewind reminders. It’s handwritten, with a cartoony winking face: And check what’s inside!

[feralforfrank]

task force 141 x fem!reader

they catch you singing. this was requested by the lovely @thicc-plum. hope it lives up to what you expected!

Sundays happened to be the laziest of all days. You usually get out of bed while your boyfriend is out for his morning jog, make breakfast and sing, and by the time he drags his sweaty ass home, his favourite meal is on the table.

Today was no different. You moved to the beat of Love by Keyshia Cole and flipped the half-burned pancake, wincing and placing it in your dear lover's stack. He'd never know.

"Oh, looove! Never knew what I was missing!" You belted the lyrics, using the spatula as a makeshift mic.

—

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

He comes in while you're lost in that Keyshia Cole moment and leans in the doorframe, staring.

Simon almost laughs at how long it took to realise you're not alone. He'll scold you later for not paying enough attention to your surroundings. He could've been a dangerous man, for Christ's sake and—

He pushes those thoughts away and just watches you dance and sing. He can't help but smile.

Eventually, your voice cracks and that's enough for him to stop you from bloody deafening him.

"Oi, stop it, already! Bloody hell, your voice is awful."

It takes everything in your startled self not to throw the spatula at him. You watch Simon take his sweater off and fold it like he's grown two heads.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You almost made me rip my ears out."

A towel smacks his head a second later.

—

JOHN PRICE

Can hear you from the moment he reaches your floor. He laughs to himself, pitying your neighbours.

John walks in and recognises the song that's playing. It's one of your favourites. So, he takes off his shoes and joins you.

He wraps his arms around you, and you jump before you realise who it is. He smells of cigars and coffee, and you wonder if it was he who put the half-empty mug on the sink.

"You scared me, John." You smile.

"I think you scared the pigeons off the window with your singing."

You elbow him, and he kisses you on the neck.

You giggle.

—

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

He definitely joins you!

He knows your love for this song is huge and watching you perform while thinking no one is around is adorable.

You jump when a second voice joins in, but a smile spreads on your lips, and you momentarily lose track of the lyrics.

Kyle offers his hand and you take it, allowing him to spin you around and dance with you.

His eyes hold extreme adoration for you as do yours.

When the song ends, you pull him for a kiss, mumbling about how cute he is when he tries to hit the high notes.

He blushes.

—

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Johnny's a fucking menace ISTG.

He sneaks in the kitchen and due to you having your back turned to him you don't realise he's pulled out his phone and is filming you.

Johnny tries to muffle his laugh at your stance and the grip you have on the spatula/makeshift mic.

Once you realise there's another person in the room with you, you stop, heat creeping up on your ears, face and shoulders.

"Hey," you say meekly.

"Why'd ye stop, popstar? I was enjoyin' the free concert."

You punch his shoulder playfully, eyes widening when you notice the phone in his hands.

"Oh, tell me you didn't film that."

Johnny's wide grin is the only answer you need before you pounce on him, trying to pry the phone from his hands and delete the video.

Soon enough you're wrestling on the couch, and your breakfast is burning.

[z0mbiefrank]

i have a lot of thoughts i'd like to document about mcr's auckland show, but here's just some of the things gerard said that hit me particularly hard.

first off, of course, we have the quote of the whole night, which i'll try not to dwell on too much.

"In the face of extermination, say fuck you."

there have been many posts about this. despite it not being included in the live stream, this video swept the dashboard. there is a pride flag front and centre in the audience. gerard is barely visible but all we needed was his voice. within hours it had inspired countless textposts and art pieces. i know i'm not the only one who cried. it is exactly what i needed to hear during this time of trans rights being rolled back all over the world. then came this video where you can see gerard. they walk right to the front centre stage, legs planted strongly in their skirt and tights, face set with intent, and he spits out those words for the whole world to hear.

now this next one i have not seen any posts about, but it struck a chord with me anyways. before planetary go they speak to the audience:

"You all look wonderful. You do. I see you when the lights are bright on us. I see you. Don't worry, I see you. There's some wonderful costumes. If they're costumes. Are they costumes?" The audience yells back with a resounding "No!" source video

every night my chemical romance performs, they look out to a crowd of visibly queer people staring right back at them. my mcr show was the first time i saw my trans best friend able to walk into the men's bathroom with his head held high. recently there has been a huge onslaught of anti-transgender laws across the world. i'm sure we've all seen posts pointing out that gerard's cheerleader dress they wore in Nashville would now be illegal. the new tennessee bill bans "male or female impersonators who provide entertainment that appeals to a prurient interest." many people have claimed the bill is 'only' about drag performers, as if that would make it okay, but we know that is not true. right-wingers have proven time and time again they view trans women as nothing more than "female impersonators". they treat transgender bodies as nothing but a fetish, or a prurient interest. they argue against gender-affirming medical care on the same phone they use to watch transgender porn. they believe transgender identity and queerness is a costume. it is something we can take on and off. something they can ban and eradicate from their country. but it's not a fucking costume. it's who we are.

which leads me to the encore. this was the only show during their tour with a planned one-song encore (excluding festivals), and that song was their most famous of all time, welcome to the black parade. the band walks back on stage and the only thing gerard says is

"Be who the fuck you are." video

an incredibly important statement that has always been a core part of my chemical romance's message. but with everything that's been going on, with frank saying one of his favourite thing about these tours is "g being able to just be himself", with gerard's gnc outfits making headlines, i feel like that was the perfect sentence to close the show

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Fourteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Been a little while but the next updates here! Lots to unpack, hope you enjoy it:)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48

Masterlist

Things after that seemingly did a 360.

Not that I was given much of a chance to catch up with it all though, having been left standing in the studio hours earlier, back to the wall whilst the door hinges had slowly creaked to a close. 

No, because that would have been far too much to ask for.

Marshall had relaxed in a way that was more like a steel trap being reset; ready and waiting to be crossed again. It had me on edge. I couldn’t deny that, seeing as I knew what could be lying in wait for me if I did dare to trample any closer, but there was also an ominous instinct that had my back up. Something that kept me from lingering too long. 

“What’s goin’ on in there?” The man himself asked, tapping my forehead as he slid back into the driver's seat. 

We’d gone out, as promised, not long after ‘The Change’ had occurred (something I’d taken to dubbing the whole situation as inside my head). Rosie hadn’t forgotten about her idea of dinner and a movie– and really… Of all the things we could have possibly done after a kiss like that, it just had to be this.

Honestly, I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop that particular train of thought each time I found my mind wandering back to it.

“Yoo-hoo…” Marshall dragged out, his brow arching as he glanced over at me again. 

Z was in the back typing away, having become completely unaware of our shared awkward existence ever since her sister had first called whilst we’d been eating dinner. The girl had taken to texting throughout, telling Ayla all about the heroics Marshall had performed that same morning in the principal's office, as well as the movie we were now headed to see. I had to smile at their closeness, thinking back to my own siblings and wondering how Em struggled to see just how much the two girls loved one another.

I glanced over at him, head rolling against the headrest. He was watching me with those familiar baby blues, but each time I caught sight of them, I was instantly reminded of the way they’d clouded over in the studio earlier.

“Thinking ‘bout getting a cat.”

His brow furrowed. 

“A cat?” He deadpanned, obviously perplexed by my answer.

I wasn’t actually thinking about it, but now that I’d gone and said it… it wasn’t half a bad idea.

So I ultimately shrugged, if only in an attempt to tear my eyes away from his. “Cats are cool.” 

At his scoff of disagreement, I nudged his arm off of the adjoining console with my elbow, “They are.” I defended, “They don’t need me to walk them or play fetch. They’re cute and fluffy, can definitely keep me warm at night.” I hummed, that eyebrow of his quirked up higher. “And besides, I reckon it could keep me company when I’m back in London, you know. Figure I’ll have a hard time with that after having you two around for so long– even with Lotts there to keep me from going insane.”

Marshall kept quiet at the acknowledgement, but did start up the car, its engine rumbling to life beneath us not a second later. 

It was just when I heard his faint intake of breath and caught the way he opened his mouth to speak, that Rosie shoved her phone in my face, her beaming grin peeking out over my shoulder. “Ayla, meet El!”

I blinked at the sudden invasion I’d been confronted with but couldn’t help my warm laughter, even as Em gently scolded his daughter for the intrusion. “Z, what I keep tellin’ you?”

“But Dad, it’s important!”

My gaze flickered between the two of them and it was only when I drew my eyes back down to where the screen sat between us that I saw the fondness which had since swarmed my expression. I tried to dampen it slightly without being too obvious, but the girl waiting seemed to be watching the whole scene rather intently. She smiled though when she saw she’d finally captured my attention. All soft like.

My breath caught a little in truth, never really having thought about getting to meet Marshall’s eldest this early on, or through a screen either. Rosie didn’t seem to care much though, elbowing her way between the two front seats to get as much as she could  of us into the frame. 

“Layly, baby!” Marshall’s greeting cut in before I could spit out a hello, his little nickname for his girls sparking that same fondness I’d felt earlier. “How you doin’, Trailer? Behavin’, I hope.”

I blew out a small snort at the next nickname he used, turning an amused smile Marshall’s way, but his focus was wholly on the girl currency rolling her eyes at him through a digital frame. “You know I am.” Ayla huffed around a faint chuckle, leaning in closer to the lens, “School keeps me way too busy to get up to anything stupid.”

“What I love to hear.” Marshall replied with a sarky sort of smile, a new one that I could add to my growing collection, I quietly deemed. “You been good though?” He prompted further, “Don’t have to stop by and talk to any hanger-ons, do I? ‘Cause you know I will.”

“Yes, I know.” Ayla shook her head, exasperated, but her sweet smile was still so prominent. “Besides, I think you guys have had enough drama going on lately.”

Marshall’s eyes traitorously jumped over to meet mine in that split second, something I thought only I caught until I witnessed the assessing look Ayla took on. So I was quick to clear my throat, internally cursing his name, “I don’t know what Z’s told you, but the two of us? We’re innocent! This is all on your Dad.”

That seemed to earn me a lighthearted laugh, one that trickled out of the speaker and appeared to loosen Marshall’s tense set of shoulders. The man in turn levelled Rosie and I with an aggrieved look before he turned to speak to Ayla once more, “It’s like I’m a one man army here, AB. Didn’t think I’d ever lose Z, but she’s gone darkside.”

“Dad!” Rosie admonished around another giggle, whilst Ayla gasped theatrically, “Oh how the tables have turned. What will the papers say?”

“Hilarious.” Marshall said in a manner that was deliberately impassive. But he still cracked a smile though when Ayla’s chuckles trickled through.

“Good to see you guys,” She commented soon after and I got the chance to look at her a little closer, taking in the college dorm she had sitting behind her, as well as the blue of her eyes. They were more almond shaped, sure, but somehow the colour still managed to match Marshall’s toe for toe. “And to finally meet you, El. I’ve heard a lot about you these last few weeks.”

A sharp breath hitched my chest. “Only good things, I hope.” I found myself retorting around a rosy smile, knocking my head lightly against Z’s when the girl crowded in further to my side, her chin settling on my shoulder, “But it’s also really nice to put a face to all the stories I’ve been told, too.”

Ayla gifted me a bright grin at that, her gaze drifting between Rosie and I, “No hope in praying that it’s nothing too embarrassing then?”

I couldn’t stop the way I instinctively turned to share a secretive grin with the girl beside me, pleased when Rosie mimicked me to do the same. “I don’t know about that, I’ve heard all about the grocery store you see.”

The gasp that the comment drew from the older girl was all too real that time, “I was seven!”

“Seven don’t mean nothin’,” Em swiftly cut in, narrowing his eyes ever so as he directed a finger at the phone and his eldest, “You’d been potty trained since you were two.”

Rosie and I snickered between ourselves, but Marshall caught onto it all too quickly, moving to shift that finger towards the pair of us, “Aye, you two ain’t no better. Ms Bedwetter and Pillow-drewler.”

“Hey!” Rosie immediately spat, thumping the man’s shoulder hard enough to have the corners of his mouth twitching even as his brows rose, “That was years ago! And you said you wouldn’t tell nobody!”

Marshall’s hands flew up in a gesture of surrender when his daughter narrowed her eyes in further scrutiny, but I could tell that Z wasn’t as embarrassed as she was letting on to be, knew it to be true when she added, “You also said it was natural! That you didn’t stop doin’ it ‘til you were fourteen!”

Em’s chin jerked up before he softened his reaction, though his eyes were a tad bit too wide to have not been entirely caught off guard by the secret his daughter had just spilled, “Jus’ said that to make you feel better.”

His shrug wasn’t all that uncaring as he hoped for it to be. 

“Liar!” Rosie laughed, poking her dad’s side before she turned to peer back over at her sister and me, “He really did, promised he wouldn’t tell on me if I didn’t tell on him either. But he’s a big fat liar.”

“Name of your next single.” I quipped thoughtlessly, the comment going straight over Rosie’s head. Em shot me a steely glare and faked a silent laugh though, his lips softening into a small smile. 

It was after that in which Marshall’s palm pressed against Rosie’s forehead, jokingly coaxing her into the backseat once again, waving off her protests as she slumped into the middle. “Yeah, yeah, keep complainin’ and we’ll miss this damn movie, won’t we.”

“Dollar!” Two voices called out and I peered into the back to see Z snicker into the phone, the screen Ayla was still on illuminating her face. 

Marshall scoffed at the two girls but I could see how he was grinning happily to himself as we pulled out of the lot and onto the main road. 

It continued to surprise me how easily he could move throughout the city without looking at a map or using the GPS he had installed in the flashy monster-truck he was so fond of. I kept finding myself getting lost in the way he drove, in truth, stare caught on how the streetlights flashed over his stubbled cheek and the fluid way he switched gears as though the stick was an extension of his arm. 

It was only when Rosie popped up with another question that I found myself startling, looking back to immediately avoid the knowing smile Marshall had plastered over his face. Shit.

“What’s the movie called again? Ayla wants to know if it’s the same one she’s watching this weekend.”

I had to think for a second before I could answer her, my mind still honed in on the image of Em’s profile, “Love, Rosie.”

Z’s face split into a wide grin, her eyes squinting with the strength of it as she repeated the answer back to her sister, talking a mile a minute about how we were only going to see that film over The Book of Life because it had her name in the title. 

I settled back into my seat easily enough and fiddled with the radio to keep myself from acknowledging my previous leering, hoping that the drive would be over all too quickly. Only, things never typically tended to go my way.

Jerking ever so, my straying gaze snapped back over to where Em was still watching the road, as though all of his attention was stuck there, and that wasn’t his hand on my upper thigh. 

It was less than a second later that I let my eyes shift up into the rearview mirror, a breath of relief escaping me when I realised Rosie hadn’t caught the exchange, or see the lines her Dad was crossing. 

I licked the back of the teeth and willed myself to relax at the touch, taking a small breath before I looked back over at the man in question. When I did, I found myself narrowing my stare at the slight smirk Marshall wore, apparently rather pleased with the reaction he’d garnered. 

Still, my mind was warring with my want. I couldn’t wrap my head around the hot and cold, the way he’d push me away and then pull me in, how I’d thought about leaving to escape the icy shift and then been backed into a wall– literally.

I didn’t push his hand away though, and that in itself spoke volumes. 

I couldn’t tell how he meant the touch, was he trying to be teasing? Or was it just a show of reassurance for the unexpected conversation started with Ayla? Had it been something he’d been wanting to do for a while now, or was this all just a game?

He squeezed, ever so slightly. 

My eyes slipped closed.

His thumb brushed over the bump of my knee and I let myself melt into the firm hold.

It felt unnatural not to.

The hand didn’t travel, only moved away and then back each time it jumped up to the gearstick. I found myself, once again, wanting the journey to be over, whilst simultaneously hoping that it would never end.

The touch grounded me.

But it pulled away when the theatre came into view.

…

“Can't believe The Marshall Mathers is planning on watching a chick-flick.” I taunted playfully as we made our way up onto the pavement outside the red and gold doors, the joke only made to keep me from wanting to reach out and slide his hand into mine. Because I didn’t do that, I didn’t like all that sappy shit. I didn’t want to be holding his fucking hand, or have him drape his arm around me. It was just the moment, just that kiss fucking with my head.

Marshall feigned a put upon sigh, that hand of his coming up by his brow in an attempt to swoon. “Lord strike me down.”

I laughed outwardly, Rosie glancing back over her shoulder at us as she tugged at the heavy handle. “You’re not looking forward to it, Daddy?”

Shooting me a semi-sour look, Marshall let a lazy smirk crawl over his face just as he reached out to steady the door above Z’s head, “Nah I am, baby. Lia’s jus’ makin’ fun of the big manly guy.”

“Who?” Rosie asked in utter sincerity, enough that it had me cackling outright on the pavement outside. Em shook his head at the two of us, attempting to remain unamused but failing as reaching out to take my hand, tugging me through the open doors. 

Z was still looking confused by it all when I managed to calm slightly, but her smile was soft as ever as her eyes lingered over the pair of us. It was then I realised Marshall’s hand was still in mine. He must have realised it too, because he let it go and coughed quietly into his arm before gesturing his chin out towards the concession stands. “So we gettin’ some popcorn or what?”

And with that, Rosie’s sole focus was on getting exactly that.

I ended up trailing after her whilst Marshall went and grabbed us some tickets, keeping an eye on her shorter frame as she weaved around a tall shelf to get a look at the array of sweets. There weren’t too many people about, but I still found myself glancing back over towards Em to see if anyone had sussed him out yet.

“What’re you gonna get?”

My head snapped back at Rosie’s ask, eyes dancing over the grin she bore before flickering between her own. I glanced over the collection the theatre had to offer, surprised by the obvious differences I could see.

“Me and my sister had this thing,” I started to answer, reaching out to pluck a familiar bag from off the hook, “Where each time we would go to the cinema we’d just end up getting a big bucket of popcorn to share and dump a whole load of M&M’s or Magicstars inside. If the popcorn’s still warm the chocolate tends to melt a little.”

Rosie scrunched her nose, either in distaste or just thought. “Sweet or salted?” Was the next question she posed and it hastily reminded me of the same one Marshall had asked that very first night I’d spent with them.

“Salted.” Smirking slightly at the way her eyes lit up.

“You made the right choice.” Z claimed with a nod and wiggled her brows before she spun around the heel of her foot to make her way over to the short line.

We ended up getting a large popcorn to share. At first, I figured it wouldn’t be enough for the three of us until I saw the container we were handed, then I was just beyond baffled at how different the portion sizes were in The States compared to back in London. 

Once we’d paid, Rosie and I wandered over to a corner to dump the contents of the chocolate I’d picked up into it, Z having so much fun with it that a good couple dozen of M&M’s rolled over the ugly patterned floor. When Marshall strolled back over, he was wearing a questionable expression but holding onto three tickets.

“Should I even ask?” He quizzed, peering into the overloaded bucket. The look he wore turned somewhat appraising once Z explained and he was quick to steal a taste of our concoction, earning a tap to the arm in rebuke.

“Hey, hands off, bright eyes. Popcorn’s for the trailers, not here.”

“Bright eyes?” Marshall questioned, the left corner of his mouth lifting, but his ask was drowned out by Z’s, “The trailers? Dad always makes us wait ‘til the movie starts!” 

I snorted and held out the bucket so that Rosie could take a great big handful, “We’ve long since discovered your Dad’s a little neurotic, lovely. We just gotta love him for it.”

Rosie’s laugh was warm as she peered up at Marshall. But his eyes were caught on me and he almost appeared frozen before Z leaned into his side, “Can we head in now?” She wondered, chewing away.

“Uh, yeah.” Em seemed to stumble, before he blinked and leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head, “Think we made it just in time.”

..

Love, Rosie was a film I could have lived without watching, I wouldn’t lie. It was like every other Romcom I’d seen a thousand times before. And yet, I loved every single second of it. 

We were stationed in the far back, on the side closest to the stairs, Rosie perched between Marshall and I, her legs swinging back and forth. Throughout the whole film her attention remained captured, never wavering as her big doe eyes stayed locked on the screen with such reverence that it warmed my entire being. 

Marshall wasn’t much better either, in truth. Something which humoured me to no end. Whenever he wasn’t glancing at me from over the top of Z’s head or stealing the popcorn from out of my hand each time I reached into the bucket, his eyes didn’t stray from the heartfelt scenes as they played out. 

It was a strange conclusion to come to, that Marshall loved a good old fashioned Romcom as much as his daughter did, but it was a fact that went and nestled itself in between my ribs, where all the other little quirks the man had went to stay. 

It was only as we were leaving, Rosie talking a mile a minute about the ending and how she thought it sucked, that he reached out again in the dimly lit corridor that led us back to the main lobby, only this time he didn’t have the excuse of stealing any popcorn from me when his fingers slipped into mine.

I tried not to show how surprised I was by the action as I looked over at him, grateful that we were the last ones to filter out of the screening room so that no one else noticed when I let my feet slide closer to his so that our shoulders could brush.

They were such simple actions, ones that would be second nature to most people, but that meant a great deal to me. Because see, I’d never really been the type to be overly affectionate, having hated hugs or anything of the sort once Danny had grown too old for them. Well, up until Lottie had come along. And most of the people I’d been with over the years had seemed to struggle with that, even when I’d pushed myself into reciprocating, when I’d forced myself out of my comfort zone to make them happy. But here and now, it felt natural.

Most things with Marshall did, I deemed. Even us arguing.

Our hands parted just before we could step through the end doors, his thumb brushing over my wrist as our eyes adjusted to the vast change in light.

Rosie was rubbing at hers when I glanced over, her too large drink squashed in the crook of her arm. Marshall seemed to follow my gaze because he reached out to loop her into his side not a second later, peering down at her. “I want you takin’ notes, you hear?” He mentioned in reference to the film, his smile now sly, “None of that’s gone be happenin’ in your future, girlie. You wanna get married? I better be dead. And don’t even think ‘bout havin’ no babies ‘til you start gettin’ grey hairs, okay?”

Z rolled her eyes in response to her father's shakedown, shaking her head up at me in silent camaraderie. “You just don't want people to see you cry.” She poked fun, her grin turning evil, “But we all saw the tears when she started her speech, Dad!”

“Lies.” Em scoffed back at her, pushing her away and out of his hold. Rosie didn’t much care though as she laughed her way into mine, head coming to rest on my upper arm.

“Me? I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.” Was the retort she gave him, one that had me snorting on a laugh when Marshall raised a brow and turned towards me.

“Think we left Z inside,” He said, “seems Tony Montana here figures he’s comin’ home with us.” 

I couldn’t help the giggles that escaped me at all the references, especially when Rosie pursed her lips and drooped her eyes slightly, holding her arms out wide like Al Picino did in the famous movie, “Last time you gonna see a bad guy like me.”

Even Em couldn’t hold back the large snort he made at the little act she’d put on for us, shaking his head at her antics before he pointed a finger at her, “Last time you watch a movie with me, I swear.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped just a tad, “But it’s Scarface!”

“Exactly.” Was the only reply Marshall gave. 

I lifted a hand to give Z’s shoulder a squeeze, smiling stupidly when she wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me into a lazy hug. The pair of them continued with their little face-off though until I was promptly reminded of the thing that had been bugging me throughout the end of the film, “Go and head out to the car, Tony. Those petrol cans you lot call drinks had me needing to pee like yesterday.”

Amused, Marshall shook his head at the comment, though his eyes were fond when he reached out to steer Rosie back over to him, “You need us to hang about, or?”

Rolling my eyes at his protective streak, I smiled and simply waved him off. “I’m sure I’ll survive a trip to the loo’s. I’ll try to make it quick.”

His lips thinned slightly but he acquiesced easily enough, navigating Z over towards the exit whilst I slipped into the nearest corridor dotted with bathroom signs. I was beyond grateful when I found the line not to be too long, just an older woman waiting for the end stall to free as well as a mother and her baby stood by the sink.

It was only once I’d dried my hands and fixed my hat in the mirror that I felt a slight prickle on the back of my neck. I looked up as the bathroom door swung shut behind the young mother to find a new face stood off to the right just behind me. I caught their eye in the reflection and felt my own snap back down rather quickly, pretending to not notice their sudden fixation as I casually wiped down the front of my hoodie and turned to leave.

It was a cough and then a light ‘Excuse me’ that had me glancing back on instinct, only to find the same girl suddenly right there. I blinked in shock at her sudden proximity and rocked back on my foot to put a bit of space between us, but the smile I gave her wasn’t unkind.

“Sorry,” She apologised, seeming to realise, though she didn’t look all that sheepish, even with having accosted me in the theatre’s tiny bathroom, “Just, can I get a picture and like, an autograph maybe? I spotted you by the register earlier, but lost you in the crowd.”

I never minded the odd signature and a picture was done easily enough too, but Detroit was currently supposed to be my best kept secret and knowing that this girl had already spotted me, likely with Em, didn’t do much to ease the sudden anxiety I started to feel. 

Still, I grinned, unable to turn her down, “Sure thing, maybe we can grab it outside though? I doubt you’d want a selfie in the loo’s.” I tried for a light chuckle and was pleased when she laughed around an excited nod, exhaling slowly.

So we headed out of the bathroom and I posed for a picture against the white wall there, smile drooping a little the longer she kept snapping away, having gathered a little under thirty or so different photo variations. I ended up signing her phone case for her afterwards though and was thankful when nobody else seemed to crop up and spot me. 

It was just as I’d done dotting the i in my name that she shifted ever so. 

“I never thought I’d get to meet you, but really, you’re like one of my favourite artists. I think I know your whole album off by heart.”

My anxiety eased at her sweet words and my smile was sincere when I handed her phone back to her. “That’s really lovely to hear. I know getting to see some of you guys here in The States is always a little up and down because of touring, so I’m just glad we got to meet.” I assured her kindly before lightly teasing, “Never had someone say hello to me in the toilets of a cinema though. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

She laughed loudly and gave me a light shrug, “I’d say I was sorry again but I really didn’t wanna miss you, especially when I saw you out there with your boyfriend.”

My mouth went dry at her words, but the girl didn’t seem to notice, continuing to ramble on.

“Was that his sister with you guys, or yours? I know you have one, right? People say she’s a lot younger than you, but then they also claim she’s your kid too. The internet is so crazy sometimes. Still, he’s real cute from what I saw! Are you telling people about you guys soon or keeping it lowkey?”

I was grasping at straws trying to find words. To simply recall my media training and the lengthy speeches Mila had given me. But nothing sprung to mind. It was like a cesspit full of disease that ate each and every thought that attempted to grow. 

“I don’t mind not saying anything to anyone if you don’t want me to.” The girl tacked on shortly after and I would have figured that she had quickly gathered that she’d caught me by total surprise there, but she was looking at me so closely that I could easily tell it wasn’t anything of the sort. It was like an eagle scoping out their prey.

“Um,” I swallowed, before finally plastering on something like a smile, “No, it’s– He’s not my boyfriend, just a– a family friend. But yeah, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention it. At all. Please.”

Her eyes were wide when she nodded back at me, but her lips were curled into an insincere sort of grin that plucked my anxiety straight back up out of the cage I’d wrangled it into. 

“Of course, you can count on me.” It was with that in which she tugged me into a hug that had her hand settling on my waist, before I forced myself to step back.

I knew my smile had to have been less than flattering by that point, but I nodded anyway and waved at her as I backed down the hallway and crossed the lobby in a light jog, pulling my hat down lower over my face. It was only once I’d made it through the exit doors that I hurried to swallow the cold air that immediately hit me, throwing a startled glance back over my shoulder when the doors opened again, grateful to note that it wasn’t the same girl.

My eyes scanned the parking lot and it was a second later that I saw Marshall step out of the car parked across the street, his face furrowed under the shadow of his cap as he waved me over. I went, but something must have shown on my own face because he moved to meet me halfway, extending a hand out towards my arm the second he could.

He dipped his chin to catch my eye when we came to a stop and I wondered why he suddenly looked so uneasy. “What happened?”

My eyes snapped up to meet his and I blinked, still somewhat startled, “Nothing, it’s fine.”

“It’s ain’t.” He insisted, “You look like you’re gone be sick.”

I blew out another heavy breath and forced myself to calm the fuck down, “Honest, it was nothing. Just me overreacting.”

Marshall levelled me with a look before he sighed, “I know you. You don’t over-fucking-react like this. What went on?”

“Marsh, please. It was just a weird, I don’t know, encounter.” I tried, attempting to look past him to the car, “A fan that said was a bit too friendly, you know?”

I watched his jaw twitch. “What, in the bathroom?”

I sighed and lifted a hand up to rub at my cheek, “Just, can we leave it? Please. I just wanna go home. I’ll tell you then.”

Marshall watched me for a long second and for a moment I really thought he was going to argue, that he’d push, but instead he just gave a minute nod and wrapped an arm around me to lead us back to the car.

Surprisingly, Em didn’t head straight for the passenger side door and so I was greeted by the bright grin of a lovely little face when he ushered me into the backseat, seemingly knowing I needed a friendly face right then.

“What took you so long!” Rosie exclaimed the second she saw me, already shuffling over to make room whilst Marshall helped me inside, lingering a second longer to make sure that I really was fine before shutting the door and moving towards the drivers side.

“There was a long line,” I dragged out with a teasing smile whilst Em started the engine, “Think someone had a bad batch of nachos or something.”

Rosie’s face wrinkled into a grimace at my words and so when I met Marshall’s heavy stare in the rearview mirror the anxiety I felt was already starting to ebb. He gifted me a soft smile and it was then that I knew how well and truly fucked I was, because my heart stuttered.

…

The peace didn’t seem to last long though.

Not when I woke up the next morning to a thousand different notifications and my face plastered all over TMZ.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Mutual Masturbation w/ Neighbor!Bucky Barnes

a/n: sometimes i surprise myself with the shit that i write and i'm just like wow... that shit really came out of my brain?!?! this one kind of gave me a run for my money but i did it and now i'm going to hide under a rock! See ya!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

You knew he was watching, and you knew that he knew. Why would you leave the curtains of your room open if you didn't?

The fact that he was probably touching himself to the sight of you made you want to put on a performance for him. 

You acted oblivious at first, innocently climbing onto your bed and settling your back against the headboard. Your eyes were locked on your phone as you scrolled to your favorite twitter porn account. You bit your lip at the sight of the erotic videos, your hand slipping underneath the hem of your shorts and panties where the tips of your fingers met your damp slit.

You teasingly stroked yourself, eyes trained on the woman getting fucked from behind, her ass jiggling hypnotizingly shaking from the man's rough thrusts. Your stomach twisted in excitement, the giddy feeling only growing as you had begun to stimulate your clit. You forced yourself to stop, and nervously raised your eyes to the window that faced yours. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Bucky seated in a chair that looked out of place from the room he was in. It was obvious that he moved it in there with the intent of watching you. The lights around him were dim, but you could still see him; his eyes were narrowed, and his cock was in his hand, slowly stroking himself. 

You kept eye contact with him as you dragged the clothes off of your lower body, revealing your plush thighs, soft stomach, and glistening pussy. 

You could have sworn you saw him take an intake of breath, his chest rising momentarily before deflating. 

Spreading your legs, you continued to touch yourself, the pads of your fingers pressing down on your clit and moving and slow circle motions. Your hips jolted at the pleasurable feeling, a breathy moan slipping between your lips.

You had completely forgotten about the porn playing on your phone. If you were going to be honest, you imagined that the people having sex in the video were Bucky and you.

You'd had a crush on your dilfy neighbor ever since you moved in. Even though the two of you live in two separate buildings, your meeting had been a complete accident. Ever since that fateful day where your eyes met, something clicked, and every single meeting from then on was premeditated.

Tonight was the night where you went far. Sure, you'd walked in front of your window in just your towel when you saw that his curtains were open, sometimes even allowing him to catch you in your bra and underwear. Though you appeared to be shy whenever he'd "catch" you, you knew exactly what you were doing, and you knew that he knew too.

"Bucky…" You whimpered, emphasizing his name on your lips so he could read them. His jaw tightened and the pace in which he was stroking his cock grew faster.

"Finger yourself." You saw his lips read, and your skin flushed, but nonetheless you obliged, stopping your slow rubbing to sink two fingers into yourself.

Your lips parted almost pornographically. Your free hand shot up to grip at your shirt covered breasts, teasing your nipple through the thin material of the cloth. 

"Fuck!" You swore in pleasure, your fingers curving to caress your g-spot. Your legs twitched at the tingles that shot up your spine. That familiar coil of overstimulation twisted in your gut, coaxing you, and with Bucky touching himself, you were drowning in temptation, in sin.

This was not what you had expected when you decided to move, but God— if it wasn't a good idea.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[fluentmoviequoter]

Proud to Listen

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: You perform in a talent show, and your boyfriend Deacon is proud of you for singing a song that means something to you.

1.1k+ words of pure fluff! He is With Us by Love & The Outcome

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hondo, 20-Squad’s needed for assistance on a federal raid out in Covina,” Hicks calls as he exits the situation room. “Grab one of Rocker’s guys to fill the gap.”

“What gap?” Luca asks.

Hondo looks to Deacon, who answers, “I’m leaving early.”

“Why?” Street inquires. He gasps when Chris backhands his arm and brings his opposite hand to cradle where she hit him. “What? It was just a question!”

“I’m going to watch a talent show,” Deacon says.

 “You’re abandoning us with Rocker’s guys to watch a talent show. That’s cold, Deac.”

“Your kids?” Luca guesses.

“Not exactly,” Deacon says carefully.

“Your church?”

“It is there, yeah.”

“They’re gonna keep askin’, Deac,” Hondo points out. “May as well let ‘em start getting the questions over with now.”

Deacon nods before he admits, “My girlfriend is singing.”

Hondo smiles as the rest of the team looks at one another and then at Deacon. They knew he’d been on a few dates with someone, but he hadn’t told them that the relationship was getting serious or that he’d moved on to the next step of 'boyfriend/girlfriend.'

“Can I come?” Street asks.

“No, you’ve got work,” Hondo says.

“Deacon’s going!”

“Because his girl is singing, and he asked off weeks ago.”

“Well, if he hadn’t kept it a secret, I could’ve asked off too.”

“Kid,” Hondo warns.

“Guys, I’ll introduce you soon,” Deacon promises. “But I didn’t think dragging you all to watch her sing in front of a crowd would have been the best first impression. And I didn’t tell you that we were getting serious because we’re just getting there.”

“I’m happy for you, Deacon,” Chris says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Chris.”

“We’re all happy for you, even if one of us has a weird way of showing it,” Luca adds.

“She’s already said she wants to meet you guys, too, just not today. We’ll plan something soon, but you need to focus on prepping for the Covina raid,” Deacon reminds them.

“Yes, sir,” Street replies with a pathetic salute. “Enjoy your ‘noon at the theatre.”

“What is wrong with you?” Chris asks under her breath.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Tell her I want to see the video!” Hondo calls after Deacon.

“Why does he get to see it?!” Street yells.

“Hi,” Deacon says as he walks to your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, a little nervous but mostly excited,” you answer honestly.

“You’re going to be amazing. Hondo asked me to record it for him.”

“Of course, he did.”

“I take it you finally picked a song?” Deacon teases, reminding you of the hassle you went through trying to find the perfect song.

“I did. But you’ll have to find out when I’m on stage.”

“Like everyone else?” Deacon asks.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I’m going to go get a seat, but you’ve got this, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Deac. I love you.”

Deacon has heard those three words innumerable times since you first said them several weeks ago, but they still impact him just as deeply as the first.

“I love you,” he replies before kissing your temple. “See you after.”

You squeeze his hand before he steps back and leaves to find his seat. With a deep breath, you steady your shoulders and hum the song again. You picked a song you have been listening to and singing constantly over the last few weeks. Even while browsing other popular songs, you were humming it to yourself. So, you’re confident you made the right choice and are excited to perform it outside your car or shower.

After a brief intermission, you peek onto the stage and see Deacon sitting in the second row with a clear view of the stage. He supports you in all you do, but having him here for you now brings you the peace that you need to walk onto the stage and smile at the crowd. Deacon’s smile lights up when your eyes meet his, and as the music starts, you nod at him before losing yourself in the lyrics and what they mean to you.

“Remember when your hope is lost, and faith is shaken. Remember when you wonder if you’re gonna make it. There’s a hand stretched out through your deepest doubt. We can’t pretend to see the ending or what’s coming up ahead, To know the story of tomorrow. But we can stay close to the one who knows.”

As the first chorus begins, you find Deacon again, and he is still smiling, but there’s something else in his eyes. You know his faith is important to him, but you’re still surprised that he seems so touched by the song. Or maybe it’s just that you’re the one singing it.

“We can trust our God. He knows what He’s doing though it might hurt now. We won’t be ruined. It might seem there’s an ocean in between, But He’s holding on to you and me, And He’s never gonna leave, no. He is with us…”

The crowd applauds as you finish the song, and you smile as you exit the stage. There are only a few performers after you, and your eyes remain on Deacon until the announcer dismisses the performers to join their friends and families in the audience. You rush toward Deacon, who pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly.

“You were amazing!” he cheers. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Deacon,” you answer as you step back and sit beside him.

“Even if you don’t win, you should know that you affected every person here. You meant what you were singing, and that’s incredible.”

You nod and whisper another thanks to Deacon as the announcer returns to the stage with an envelope containing the winners’ names. Deacon takes your hand between both of his and holds you tightly. Even if you don’t win, Deacon being proud of you is more than enough reward. Besides, you’d like to sing more songs like this one where people can hear them.

Deacon shakes your hands when your name is called, and he helps you stand so you can walk to the stage and receive your certificate. You don’t hear the nice things that the man awarding you says, but you hope the audience listened to your song, not you, but what you were singing.

“These are for you,” Deacon says, extending a bouquet of flowers.

“Deacon,” you whisper as you take the arrangement.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says again. “What do you want to do? Dinner, movie date, anything you want.”

“Why not both?”

Deacon pulls you into his arms as he says, “For you? I’d do it all.”

“Even make plans to introduce me to 20-Squad? Because I love Hondo, but the rest of them are your family too.”

“Of course. They’re going to hear all about this, too.”

You drop your forehead against Deacon’s shoulder, but you love that he’s so proud of you. He’s amazing, and you’re grateful to have him by your side.