#with the fact that *i literally threw up because of the food they made and they forced me to eat the vomit*

[natlovesls2]

Stupid In Love

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Word count: 5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Warnings: fluff, slight angst and arguments, reader is written as American but only mentioned a few times, brief use of one bed trope, possible grammatical errors, no use of y/n, switches pov and might not be obvious, a little rushed, swearing, alcohol, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), American football, images used are not mine as are from pinterest, was written before Logans replacement =(

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Summary: Your sister invites you to her wedding, theres only one problem: you're single and your family has already been pressuring you about it. Logan offers to be your date, what can go wrong? or you and Logan being oblivious about your feeling for one another while fake dating

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You’re unsure of how or why you fell in love with Logan, but you fell hard and fast– so fast that it made it impossible for you to catch yourself before it was too late. What you did know was that your feelings were not reciprocated. Despite what your shared friends said, Logan was not in love with you, and he definitely did not look at you as if you hung up the moon and the stars. Though you were an idiot when it came to love, there was only one thing worse than someone who is an idiot about love. That is an idiot in love, and that's what you were– stupidly in love. 

“My sister is getting married, and our parents have made it their mission to rub it in my face. They act like I’m pushing fifty– I’m only twenty fucking two that's not old,” you groaned, letting your body drop onto the couch in your living room. 

Logan watched you from across the room– face scrunching up at the mention of your parent's comments, “That's definitely not old, so what if you're not dating someone? There are more important things in life.”

“They think otherwise; they think that my life is a failure because I’ve never been in a serious relationship, or at least not one I considered serious– like that somehow defines me as a person,” the sound of rustling in the kitchen catching your attention, “Are you seriously eating without me?” you ask, instantly sitting up, looking in the direction of the kitchen.

“No.”

“You’re a horrible liar; you're literally talking with your mouth full right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, what's so bad about your sister getting married? Besides the comments made by your parents?” Logan asked, handing you a french fry as you approached the kitchen. 

“Nothing is wrong; she just had the bright idea of giving me a plus one; can you believe her? That fucking cunt, she knows I’m a pathetic loser with no love life, and she still gave me a plus one,” you dramatically shove food into your mouth.

“She did not,” Logan said, letting out an overdramatic fake gasp before breaking into a fit of laughter– bending over slightly and holding onto his stomach. He was a good friend– a great one even, but now, as he stood there laughing, you couldn't help but feel annoyed. It wasn't annoyment because of the situation or the fact that he was laughing at the situation– no, you were annoyed at the fact that he looked so good doing it. 

“You’re an asshole; stop laughing at me,” you say, throwing a french fry at Logan from across your kitchen island, watching as he attempts to catch it with his mouth and failing miserably. Even something so minuscule as that action, something he usually did when you threw food at him, caught your attention. 

“It’s not the end of the world; it’s just a wedding,” Logan threw food back at you, his smile falling as he noticed your pensive stare. 

“Yeah, a wedding where I’ll be hounded about finding a boyfriend and potential husband,” you let your head fall against the kitchen counter, letting out a loud sigh, silently whispering to yourself– asking the universe what you had done wrong to deserve this fate.

“If you’re really worried about getting made fun of, I’ll go with you. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he said nonchalantly, and you felt him rest his head beside yours against the counter. You turn to face him, opening your eyes to meet his own, and you immediately notice he's smiling again. A soft smile that makes your stomach feel fuzzy– the type of fuzzy you probably shouldn't be feeling. You could almost feel yourself shifting your head towards his own, but it never moved. It was a good thing, though you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself. Logan was your friend– you could probably consider him your best friend, yet here you were, feeling like a fool. 

“Really? You’re not joking right now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid that the tone of your voice would betray you and reveal your thoughts and feelings.

“Not joking, I’ll do it," he straightens himself, resting his elbow on the counter, tilting his head, waiting for your response.

“You’re an angel, Logan,” you jump from your position to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly– you're sure you're cutting off his air supply. Though he'd never complain, Logan had never been the type to complain when you hugged him too tightly. It was something you never understood about him, why he put up with so much of your bullshit– the sudden wedding invitation included.

“Only for you,” he hugged you back, though not as tight as you were hugging him, gently patting your back, “So when’s the wedding?”

“In a month.”

“Oh, wow… you could’ve told me sooner,” his voice full of shock and disbelief as he pried himself out of the hug to look at you.You couldn't help but feel disappointed at the lack of close physical contact– something you rarely felt. Whenever you ended a hug with Logan, you felt normal, as if it were any other hug. This felt different, a type of difference that you couldn't quite place. Maybe it was fear, or maybe you just didn't know the feeling– all you knew was that you were glad you would have time with him on this trip.

“Well, I sorta thought I’d have a date by now,” you said, voice dripping with melancholy and regret. For a while, the first three months since you got the invitation, to be exact, you had hoped and expected to find a date. You had come close to doing so, falling short every time, realizing that you had high standards that most men did not meet. But as you stared at Logan, you wondered if perhaps, this whole time, you had been waiting for him– not him in particular, but someone like him. 

“Okay, well, where is the wedding being held?”

“My parents' house, where we grew up. It's a ranch, nothing too crazy,” you could already imagine the fresh air of the property and the salty breeze of the nearby beach. The thought of relaxation quickly crashed by the topic of your current conversation– the wedding. Of course, there would be no relaxation during a wedding, especially not at your sister's wedding, where you would have to pretend to be dating your best friend. 

“So more of a family only with a few friends, type of wedding?”

“Exactly,” you took a bite of the food that had gone forgotten for a moment, “I owe you big time,” you assured Logan. It would be shitty of you if you didn't at least offer up the idea of being indebted to him– though, truthfully, you knew Logan would never hold this above you, let alone actually make you pay the debt. 

“Yeah, you do.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The drive to your parent's house from the airport is quiet, the argument from before still lingering between you. You feel Logan’s eyes occasionally dart between you and the road. He lets out a deep sigh, pulling over at a shoulder, turning off the ignition, and turning to face you— his eyes examining you as you look straight ahead. You could sense his hesitation, but refused to acknowledge the situation, still mad at what he had done earlier. The road was eerily empty, and as the sun set, the approaching night seemed to set the mood for the current state of your friendship— cold and dimming. 

“This was a mistake,” you finally say, turning to look at Logan, watching as he shakes his head— dryly laughing at your words.

“This would’ve been fine if you had told me your family was still close to your ex,” you can tell he is attempting to keep a calm demeanor, voice tense with a slight shake. 

“I didn’t think it was important,” you feel frustrated with the situation, and your voice showed it. You had meant for it to sound that way– you weren't mad at Logan; you could never be mad at him... or maybe you were.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell your date that your ex-boyfriend will be there too?” his eyes wide with disbelief at the audacity of your statements. You, of course, felt as if he was exaggerating– making a big deal out of something as small as a family friendship.

“This is fake, Logan— this isn’t a real date. It’s not like I had an actual obligation to tell you!” you yelled at him, mind foggy– you weren't thinking straight, aggravated in the situation at hand, and annoyed with your sister more than anything. Though you could feel your anger and frustration with Logan rise. 

He goes quiet, jaw clenching and hand gripping the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles are turning white, as he angrily turns the car back on. You were unsure if you should break the silence, afraid to further escalate the situation. The tension only grew the further he drove and the closer you got to your childhood home.

"Look, I'm sorry for overreacting. I know we're not actually dating, but I want your family to like me," he finally says as you arrive at your destination, nervously running his hand through his hair. 

"Hmm."

"Please don't be mad," he placed his head against the steering wheel, mumbling to himself-- you couldn't quite hear all that he said. Though you caught something about being an idiot and always ruining everything. 

"I'm not mad, and I'm sure my family will love you; who wouldn't?"

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Jade, this is Logan; Logan, this is my sister, Jade,” you introduce Logan and your sister, awkwardly motioning between them. 

“Hi, it's nice to meet you,” Logan stretches out his hand for your sister to shake, but instead, he is pulled into a big hug.

“Nice to meet you too,” She pulls away from the hug, looking Logan up and down– smiling widely, “My god, sis, you didn’t tell me you were dating someone this good-looking.”

“Jade, don’t.”

“What? He’s hot,” she insists, looking him up and down-- causing you an overwhelming amount of embarrassment. 

“God, I am so sorry,” you quickly say to Logan; you wished the earth would open up at that moment and swallow you whole. Your sister had the tendency to embarrass you, constantly bringing up your past cringe moments. Like the time you stuffed your bra in middle school, and she, for some reason, brought it up a few years later in front of your prom date. It wasn't that she did it with some malicious intent; she just happened to have no grasp on boundaries and social cues.

“No, no, it's fine,” he said with a slightly amused smile, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. He always got a kick out of seeing you embarrassed, and you knew this would be something he teased you about later. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long; so much has changed since you’ve been gone,” she says, holding up her left hand to show off her ring with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“The old barn was turned into a little studio, so that’s where you two will be staying,” She leads you to the old barn, unlocking it and giving you a small tour. “Mom and Dad will be home later, but honestly, they probably won't bother you. Especially Dad, he's in a mood, but I’m sure Mom will drop by to say hello,” she says, standing near the front door, smiling at you and Logan, “There’s only one bed, so I’m sure you two will have fun, if you know what I mean,” violently winking at you. 

“Please ignore her; she's just trying to embarrass me– more than she already has,” you tell him, ushering your sister out of the studio. “Has she ever told you about that time in middle school when…” you quickly shut the door behind her before she can say anything and turn back to Logan, who is standing there with a small smile. You can't help but wonder why he's smiling or what he's smiling at. You can almost feel yourself smiling back– almost, but you stop yourself.

“Well I like your family so far.”

“You've only met my sister.”

“Yeah, but she’s fun,” he says, following you into the small kitchen, leaning against the door frame. 

“Whatever, you say. I was thinking I'll take the couch and you take the bed.”

“No way, there is no way my fake girlfriend, but very real best friend, is sleeping on the couch,” he protests, pushing himself off of the door frame to stand besides you as you rummage through the refrigerator. 

“Well, I won’t allow my guest to sleep on the couch.”

“We can share the bed, just put a pillow barrier between us.”

“Pillow barrier? What are we twelve?” you scoff, turning to look at Logan, eyebrows raised in exasperation. 

“Right, so I’ll take the couch.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch, Logan!” voice raised as your frustration with the situation continues to grow.

“Alright, I’ll sleep on the floor if that's what you want,” he said, attempting to hold back a smile, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then lets share the bed”

“Fine!” you finally give in, knowing that there was no winning against Logan and you'd much rather save your sanity. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to shower; do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No, but I’ll make us lunch.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said, hesitating as if he wanted to say something else before walking out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“What are you doing?”

“Putting up the pillow barrier”

“I thought you said we weren’t twelve?” he asked with a teasing smile. You stared at him blankly, unsure if how to respond, watching as he lay on the left side of bed. “Come on, just lay down already,” he removed the pillow barrier, hugging one of the pillows as he patted the empty spot on the bed. 

Hesitantly you laid on your spot, turning to look at him, “You’re so weird.”

Logan let out a chuckle, “Yeah, but you love me,” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you responded, closing your eyes– and you truly did mean it, you loved him. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You expected the rehearsal dinner to make you uncomfortable, but you weren't fully prepared– hoping it would pass like a blur you wouldn’t remember. That, of course, had been foolish-- as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, you couldn't help but feel the oncoming dread. 

“What's wrong?” Logan asks, coming to stand beside you, carefully fixing his shirt in the reflection, “You look like you'll throw up at any moment.”

Your expression is blank, lips shut tight and unmoving despite having been asked a question. It felt as if you were unable to speak, afraid to open your mouth and vomit before having anything to eat or drink, “I just… I’m nervous,” you play with the hem of your dress, flattening the bottom of it and using it as an excuse to wipe away the clamminess of your hands. 

“You look beautiful. I’m sure everything will go smoothly, and I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You stood at the edge of the rehearsal dinner event, Logan by your side, as you watched the people around you socialize. In the center of the backyard was a long table with plates and glasses. Family from both sides and close friends are scattered around the yard as your sister and her fiance make their way around the place, speaking to everyone. 

“I’m glad you finally have someone in your life, little Jade,” your sister's fiance, Mark, commented as they approached you and Logan. “Jade told me all about you, and I’m not going to lie, I googled you,” he laughed, patting Logan on the back in a friendly manner as if they were old friends. 

“Find anything interesting?” Logan asks with an intrigued smile on his face. You're relieved that he isn't absolutely weirded out about being googled.

“Just the usual, that you're from Florida– and that's just rubbing me the wrong way. I also read that you're a Dolphins fan, and I’m a Niners fan sooo...”

“I think we can put football behind us,” Logan laughs lightly; you can't help but admire his laugh. It's the type of laugh that brings a smile to your face and warms your heart.

“Oh, definitely; I think you and I will be great friends. We’re practically family now; you better not break my sister-in-law's heart. I’m watching you, carboy,” he warns, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ hand motion as he walks off with your sister. 

“He seems nice,” Logan says with a small smile, subconsciously wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Wait, did he call me carboy?” he asks, turning to look in the direction they had just left. 

“Yeah he did, he’s something, but he definitely likes you,” You smile up at him— your smile growing wider as you notice your father approaching the both of you. 

“Papa, this is–”

“I’m Logan, her boyfriend,” he interrupts you, stretching out his hand to shake your father's hand. 

Your father looked Logan up and down, analyzing the way he dressed, what he said, and especially how he held himself. He ignores Logan's outstretched hand, brows furrowing as he turns to look at you with a stern look. Your smile falters as you watch Logan's hand fall back to his side, and your father walks away from your conversation. 

“That went well,” Logan's voice was filled with sarcasm as he watched your father approach a young man your age, “Who is he talking to?”

“Hm?” you turn in the direction your father left in, body tensing as you see who he is currently conversing with. Micheal, your ex-boyfriend of three years– the guy your parents so desperately wanted you to get back together with. The guy you had thought you would marry and eventually have kids with. “That's THE ex-boyfriend.”

Logan scoffs, your father's sudden coldness making sense; he was the outsider causing the rift between you and the man your father wanted to see you with. You had hoped he would be accepting of Logan; he was usually a wholehearted person– the type to treat someone as if they had known each other their whole life. This was something you had always loved and admired about him, though the way he was acting today was the exact opposite of that. 

“Don’t think too much into it; let's just focus on what we have to do. We can talk to other people; my mom loves you.”

“Yeah, but your dad is definitely still in love with your ex. What are you going to do when you bring a real boyfriend to meet your dad?”

“I haven’t thought of that… oh god, don’t turn,” your warning goes unheard as Logan turns to see your ex-boyfriend walking towards the both of you. 

“So you're my replacement,” Michael rolled his eyes at Logan, face full of disgust, as if he was above Logan. 

“Nice to meet you; I’m Logan,” Logan straightened his back, clearly attempting to show Michael that he was not intimidated by him.

“Where'd you find him anyway?” Michael asks you, refusing to acknowledge Logan, let alone look at him. 

“That's really none of your business.”

He looked Logan up and down, as your father had, scoffing at Logan– as if he were better than Logan. You knew this was what he was thinking; he had always had a superiority complex during your relationship. Constantly reminding you that he would always be the best you could have. It was one of, if not the main reason you had decided to break up with him. However, he had charmed your family– your father, in particular, was in love with him.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, baby,” Michael took a step forward, attempting to get closer to you.

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Logan says, stepping between you and Michael with a stern look on his face.

“She doesn't love you; she was still texting me a few months ago. Did she tell you that?”

Logan turned to you, face showing slight betrayment– you were unsure of how to respond or what to do. You could slightly remember the text messages, mostly started by him, but you had still responded. Maybe it was out of boredom or sheer loneliness you had felt– or the complicated feelings you felt towards Logan.

“That doesn't give you the right to insult her,” Logan pushes Michael back with two fingers.

“Whatever, enjoy my leftovers– and know that her family will never accept you.” Michael walked away from the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to be here anymore; you regretted dragging Logan into the situation. This would only ruin your opportunity to confess your feelings. Why would he ever want to date you knowing that your father had a weird attachment to your ex-boyfriend? Who would willingly put up with that; certainly not Logan. 

“Why does your dad even like him? He’s a piece of shit.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t act like that around my parents; I guess he has them fooled.”

Soon, you all found yourself seated around the long table; to your horrible luck, you had been seated across from Michael. You weren't sure what came over you when you grabbed Logan's hand; perhaps it was nervousness or the shaking feeling you felt-- his hand served as an anchor in your opinion. It was keeping you from losing your mind as Michael smirked at you from across the table. 

"Are you okay?" Logan whispers, gently squeezing your hand-- attempting to reassure you and alleviate your many worries, leaning into you. When you don't respond, Logan takes it as his sign to continue talking to you, "I've got you, don't worry."

The sound of glass being tapped draws your attention to the foot of the long table, where your sister and her fiance stand. "I want to thank all of you for coming. It means so much to both Mark and I. To my parents, thank you for all the love and support you have shown during these past few days. To my sister, you have been the best sister anyone could ask for; I can only hope your wedding is next," Jade winks in Logan's direction, causing him to laugh, and your father glares at both your sister and Logan.

You smiled at Logan, and for a moment, you forgot it was all fake. It felt as if he was actually in love with you, as in love as you were. And as the night grew, so did your love for Logan. You were certain you were in love with him, and as delusional as it sounded, you hoped– longed for him to love you back.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The wedding ceremony had gone smoothly, it had been perfect and everything you could have imagined for your sister. That had never worried you much, you knew no one would have dared to ruin the ceremony. What did, however, worry you was the reception. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for some idiot drunken relative to cause a scene as they often did. And as you downed your fifth drink you began to think that the idiot might be you. 

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Logan says, placing a hand on the small of your back. His sudden appearance snapping you out of your thoughts as he leaned against the section of the bar beside you. 

“Been here since the party started.”

“Hm, how much have you had to drink?” he asks, a concerned look etched onto his perfect face… perfectly kissable face. 

“Mm, not much. I could use a few more drinks” your words slurred and do little to convince Logan that you're not beyond your limit. 

“Let's just get some water in your system, yeah?”

“Nooooo,” you whine like a petulant child. 

He moves his hand that was resting on your back down to your hip, gently guiding you towards your assigned table.  You protest and grumble the whole way there, secretly loving the way his hand feels against your hip– so strong and warm. Logan sits you down in one of the empty chairs, giving the other people at the table a weak smile. 

“Drink up,” he says, gently placing a glass of water in your hand. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whine, dropping your head to rest against the table.

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

“You should like my mom,” You can feel his eyes on you, and you can almost imagine the small smile on his face. 

“Come on sweetheart, you gotta drink some water,” he says, voice softening, nudging your foot with his own. 

“Don’t call me that,” you lift your head off the table to look at him, throat tightening at the term of endearment. The whole place was spinning, your vision blurring a bit, the words in your mind jumbling together, “Don’t– don’t call me that,’ you repeat. 

“Why not? You’ve never minded the nickname.”

“‘Cause I’ll get used to it and I can’t get used to it.”

Logan started at you, confusion etching his face, and god if it didn't take every last bit of restraint in you to not lean over and kiss him. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked in a whispered tone. 

“I– I love you,” you drunkenly confess, eyes blown out wide– you were sure you looked insane. 

“You’re drunk.”

"I love you and you don't love me–" you start, Logan’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Stop it. You can’t be saying things that you’ll regret in the morning.”

"You didn't deny not loving me," you say, voice dripping with embarrassment, tears beginning to sting at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you”

"God, I feel like such a fucking idiot– just leave me the fuck alone," you drop your head back down, choking on your words, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He hesitates for a moment as if debating what to do, he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You sat at the back of the property, swinging on one of two swings overlooking the open meadow. The past few days replaying in your mind: the fight with Logan, the rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. The wedding… everything had come undone, there was no more hiding your feelings or attempting to disguise them as a friendship. 

“I was looking for you,” Logan said, sitting on the swing beside you, watching you closely. 

“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” you whispered, your gaze set on the scenery in front of you in an attempt to avoid looking at him. He let out a sigh attempting to find the right words, worried he’d ruin everything.

“You remember what happened?”

“No, but apparently Jade found me crying and I confessed everything.” It had been embarrassing, having to admit to your sister that everything had been a lie and that you had an unrequited love for your best friend. She, being the greatest sister of all time, calmed you down and comforted you despite having made a fool of yourself at her wedding reception. “I’m not upset that you don’t love me like that. I totally understand and hope we can still be friends.” It wasn’t an exact lie, you did want to be friends, even if it would pain you– but you’d eventually get over him, right?

“No.”

“No? As in we can’t be friends? Because that's fine too, I understand that I made things awkward,” you rambled, just wanting this whole to be over with, nervously picking at the lint of your old sweater that you now realized had once belonged to Logan. 

“God, you really are an idiot.”

Your head snapped to look at him, confusion written all over your face, your mind reeled at his comment. Your mouth opened slightly in preparation to respond, but you were unable to find the words. What did he even mean by that? 

“I love you too, dumbass, so damn much,” he let out a small nervous chuckle, smiling at you, reaching to grab your hand.

“You do?”

“Yes, I can’t imagine a life where I see you with someone else and I feel comfortable with that.” You searched his face for any hint of insincerity, any hint that this may be some sort of cruel joke. But you knew Logan, and you knew that he would never do something so twisted. “I want to kiss you; can I kiss you?” he asked softly, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheek.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning into him, letting out a shaky breath as your lips meet. Suddenly you were unusually aware of the clamminess of your hands and the pounding of your heart. His lips were warm, a deep contrast to the cold morning air that had been biting at you earlier. Logan's hand moved to tangle itself into your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if he was scared you'd disappear– as if you were part of a dream and he'd wake up any moment. You suppose that's why the kiss had suddenly felt rough and sloppy as he ran his tongue against your lower lip. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own, smiling at you, “So you’ll let me take you out on a real date?”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: This is the longest fic I've every written and I'm afraid it's not that good. I literally started this in, I want to say, January but honestly I have no clue. I'm just happy its done and I have the inspiration to write shitty stuff again.

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos. 

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

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[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which a freshly broken up with bradley agrees to throw a back-to-school party and it’s there where he comes up with a cruel way to win back his ex.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Bri, don’t be like this,” Bradley mumbled as he watched her pace around his room from his spot on the edge of his bed. When she passed by him he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”

She stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “No, Bradshaw,” she seethed and roughly pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I can’t do this anymore. You don’t take things seriously! You don’t take me seriously!”

Bri turned once again and picked up her discarded shirt she had taken off not even an hour ago. She had shown up at his frat house, a needy mess for him like she always is, and now that he was done fucking her she just had to bring up the fact that he doesn’t put enough effort into their relationship. 

It was bullshit, because Bradley felt like he put in more effort than most guys would, and it started out as a casual thing, anyway.

Sure, it developed over time and he was going onto almost eleven months with her, but he felt fine at the pace they were going at. He was only twenty two, he didn’t need something super serious right now. 

He thought what the two of them had right now was good and enough. But apparently he was wrong. “You haven’t taken me out on a date since the beginning of June,” she continued as she shrugged the shirt on and looked at his sticker-covered mirror to fix her hair. 

When he just lifted a brow and set his phone aside, she met his eyes in the mirror with a harsh glare. “And?” He asked in self-defense. 

She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “It’s the end of August, Bradshaw!” She nearly yelled and Bradley winced, hating how she never used his real name. No one did, but she did it even after he told her he preferred if she used his first name. “I want someone who takes me out every once in a while, and not just to frat parties. I mean, I stayed here all summer with you instead of going back home and spending time with my family. You only took me out once and it was to pick up dinner from that stupid fast food place that is literally a few streets down from the campus.”

Bradley huffed and caught his shirt when she picked it up and threw it at him. “Oh, come on,” he muttered as he put his graphic tee back on. “That’s not true. I took you to that…” He trailed off when he realized he couldn’t complete that sentence. 

He looked up and gave her a boyish smile, and she really did not like that one bit. “I need a man, Brad,” she muttered and picked up her bag. “Not some boy who won’t meet me halfway. I’ve put almost a year of my life into this relationship, and for what? So you can just have me on the side? You don’t know how to treat a girl, Bradshaw. You don’t know how to be a decent boyfriend.”

She grabbed her heels and held them in one hand as she opened his door. “Bri,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading with her and saying all the words his mouth couldn’t. “Babe.”

Briana just laughed and shook her head. “This was a waste of time. It was fun, yeah, and you do not disappoint in bed, but I need more than that,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I think that’s the main reason I put up with this for so long. You’re a good fuck, Bradshaw, but a terrible guy. So we’re done.”

He scoffed and felt a little more than beyond objectified, but he still, for some dumb reason, didn’t want to lose her like this. “Briana,” he called as he stood up and made it over to her in three strides. “We’re good together. I can be better, just give me a chance.”

She shook her head and kissed the hickey on his neck that she had given him an hour ago. “I’ve given you one too many chances,” her voice was so monotone, it was actually kind of eerie. She ran the tip of her finger down his chest and stopped just above his jeans, where she full on groped him. “This is all you’re good for, and even that isn’t enough.”

Even though Bradley was currently getting chewed out by her, he still didn’t want to break up. He didn’t want to have wasted nearly a year of his life by not fighting for her. If she wanted more, he’d do more, but she wasn’t giving him the chance. “Bri, I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed quietly, gently taking her hand in his. “Or this.” He gestured in between them with his free one, and she sighed. 

“Sorry, Brad,” she patted his chest. “We’ll still see each other. Maybe we can even continue the sex part of our relationship, but that’s it. I’ll seek you out if I need someone to get off with, but for now, we’re over. I’m sorry.”

And then she was pulling away from him completely and leaving his messy room with her head held high while he was left with a broken ego. 

He heard her bound down the stairs and the sound of the front door closing before he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell backwards onto his bed. 

All she needs him for is an easy lay? That’s all she thinks of him now? How did he possibly miss the signs? Actually, now that she put the idea in his head, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him a sign. He couldn’t even remember her ever complaining about any of the things he apparently did wrong. 

This had to be a test. She was testing him, right?

She’ll be back. After she spends a little time away from him, she’ll come crawling back. Unless she just wanted him to fight for her. Or maybe she wanted him to prove her wrong, prove that he is way more than just some good fuck. He can be a good guy, and he can be an even better boyfriend. 

Bradley shakes his head as he grabs his phone and clicks on the group chat he shares with his friends and housemates.

Bradley B: Bri broke things off with me. I’m gonna get her back, though.

Eli H: Fuck her. Let’s throw a party tonight.

Bradley scoffed as he read the reply, not at all surprised that his friends couldn’t care less about how he was feeling and cared way more about getting drunk.  

Bradley B: I’m kind of sick of parties.

Westley E: Yeah right. I’m down for a party. It can be a back to school thing. It’ll also be a good way to get a rebound. 

Of course that was all they were thinking about. Rebounds, girls and partying. 

They had so many parties at their frat house last year, and had the cops called on them more than once. Bradley wasn’t kidding, he really was getting sick of the partying. He’s here to start his career, not find someone to settle down with when he’s still trying to figure out his life. He’s not here for the parties or the girls or whatever else. 

But no one would take him seriously. They never did. 

He really couldn’t wait to get out of here. 

School starts again tomorrow, and he should really be spending his time getting himself ready and organized for his final year, but he was agreeing to another pointless party. 

Bradley B: Fuck it. I’m in.

-

“Ooh, a party!” Sam says excitedly as she enters your room. You look up from your place on your bed, your hand shoved in a box as you tried to find your notes from last year. “Y/n/n, there’s a party tonight!”

You scoff as you resume your rummaging, not even glancing at her twice once you locate your notes. “Already? School hasn’t even started yet,”

“Yeah, well, you know how college boys are,” she pointed out as she moved to sit across from you. “What do you say? Wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

You look up at her with a blank expression on your face. “Not really,”

Sam rolled her eyes and moved to lay back against your pillows. “Oh, come on,” she whined, typing something on her phone. “You’ve been so moody lately, it’ll be good for you to get out and have fun for once.”

You scoff again and stand up, taking the box with you. “I’ve been moody? Hm, wonder why,” you muttered as you set the box down in your closet. “Maybe we should ask your brother.”

Sam looked up with you, her phone dropping from her hand as she lifted them both up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that,” she says and gives you a smile. “Speaking of, when are the two of you going to get back together? I still want you as my sister-in-law one day.”

Shaking your head, you close the closet door and move onto your suitcase. “Yeah, maybe tell your brother to stop acting like a dick and then we’ll see about me becoming your sister,”

“Luke’s always been like that,” she brushed off your words and sat up. “And you still fell in love with him somehow. Come on, you were together all through high school, don’t waste those years just because you two got into a fight.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I’m not wasting them,” you mumbled. “And it wasn’t just a fight. We want different things right now, that’s it. This break from each other will be good for us.”

Sam lifted a brow and gave you a skeptical look. “So it’s just a break? You’re not broken up?”

“No, we are,” you give her a shrug and a smile. “For now.” 

“Then it’s rebound time! Find a hot frat boy at this party tonight and experience someone else for a change,” she suggested and you grimaced at her words. “But don’t do anything more than that. You’re still going to be marrying my brother in the future.”

Then she was pushing you out of the way and tearing through your closet for something you could wear at the party, and you knew you would be fighting a losing battle if you were to decline more than you already have. 

What’s one stupid party, anyway?

-

This is exactly why Bradley didn’t like parties anymore. He wasn’t drunk yet and there were far too many topless girls around for him to be able to think straight. 

 It wasn’t even twelve yet and the party was completely out of control already. The frat house was big, but it felt way too small with the amount of people that filled every room. 

Bradley was holding his third beer of the night when he finally found Eli and Wes. They were in the living room, a girl in between them on the couch as they passed a joint back and forth. “Hey, there he is!” Eli called out as soon as he saw him. “Come here, man.”

Eli pushed on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to get her to move, and she did with a scoff. Bradley gave her an apologetic smile as she pushed past him before Wes reached forward and tugged on the sleeve of his flannel. “Get down here, dude,” he laughed, holding the joint up once Bradley was sitting beside them.

“Nah, I’m good,” he waved off his friend’s offer of the joint. “I don’t feel like getting high tonight.” Actually, he didn’t feel like getting high ever, and the few times he did was because he was pressured into it by the very two guys beside him.

“Wow,” Eli mumbled as he took the joint instead. “You don’t feel like getting high? Bri really did a number on you, huh?”

Bradley shrugged, bringing the cool bottle up to his lips. “I’m going to get her back,” he repeated what he said over text and turned to Eli when he just laughed. 

“Dude, just get over her,”’ he said. “You were with her for so long, what’s left to experience with her?”

Bradley really hated the way his friends talked about girls. It was as if they were just an object to use then discard once they got bored, and Bradley couldn’t ever remember a time when he thought about a girl as just a way to gain experience. 

Sure, he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he knew how to treat a girl for the most part. 

He was sure Bri would laugh if he were to ever say that out loud, though.

“I liked her, Eli,” Bradley muttered as he finished his beer. He was definitely drunk now, or very close to getting there since his eyes were blurring and his head was spinning a bit. “I want her back.”

Eli just scoffed as Wes moved closer. “Why don’t you make her jealous? Have her come crawling back to you?” 

Bradley turned his head. “How?”

“I don’t know, man, just…” The blond trailed off as he looked around the packed room. “Pick someone to be your rebound, any girl you think is hot enough, then stay with her until Briana notices you’re not paying attention to her anymore.”

“Right,” Bradley scoffs, then realizes his friend was not joking. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Wes answered and leaned back as the effects of the weed began to take over his body. “If she sees you with another girl she’ll go crazy. You know how jealous she is.”

Bradley just shook his head and stood up. “I’m not in seventh grade anymore. I’m not doing that,” he announced as he pushed his way through the swarm of people. 

“Don’t be such a bitch, Bradshaw!” Eli called out after him but Bradley just shook his head as he held onto the doorframe and scanned the kitchen area. 

He was more than a little pissed off now, and being called a bitch didn’t really help. He was half tempted to go up to his room and call it a night, while the other half of him was wanting to turn around and deck Eli square in the face. But the two of them had only recently made up for the last time they got into a physical fight with each other, and Bradley knew that another one would do as much good as the previous one did. 

His eyes land on Bri, who was hanging off a guy he’s seen around campus. During the last eleven months she had never given this guy the time of day, and now that she broke things off with Bradley she was all over him.

She had every right to be, but this was Bradley’s fucking house, and she’s his fucking ex, and she looks fucking happy. 

He really couldn’t believe the nerve of her. 

Without thinking much, and using his three beers as a source of confidence, he made it over to her in four strides. “Bri,” he rasped, glaring at the guy whose name is Jensen. At least he thinks his name is Jensen. “We need to talk.”

Briana laughed and nuzzled further into Jensen’s side. “Didn’t we do enough talking this morning? We’re done, Bradshaw,”

Bradley glared at her then at Jensen again, who only laughed. “Why are you doing this? Huh? Why are you even here?” 

“It’s a party, right?” Briana leaned up and wrapped her arm around her date’s shoulders. “Isn’t everyone invited to these things? Come on, Brad. We started off as friends, can’t we go back to that?”

Bradley felt his face heat up in both anger and embarrassment, and he knew he needed to walk away before his fist got the better of him. “Sure,” he answered and gave Jensen one last glare before turning around and pretty much storming back over to his friends. “I’m in. I’ll do it.” He said, making both Eli and Wes look up at him with smirks on their lips. 

-

“Whose house is this?” You ask as Sam pulls you with her and into a mass of sweaty people. If you thought the outside of the house was crowded with people, the inside of it was on a whole different level. Everywhere you looked was taken over by students, and you were sure that this is what a club downtown looks like every Friday night. Maybe even worse. 

“I don’t know, but that’s what makes it exciting,” she answered as she guided you into the kitchen. 

You strongly disagreed with her on that, and you were quickly finding out that the smell of weed and loud music was not something you wanted to be around during your final few days before classes started again. “This is lame,” you say over the sound of people chatting around you. “Let’s leave.”

Sam scoffed, turning towards you with an eye roll. “We just got here,” she pointed out and looked at the array of booze lined up on the counter. “Live a little.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You mutter, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear you very well. Your head was already pounding, and your comfy bed at your dorm was calling out to you right now. Why do you ever bother leaving the house?

“Which one do you want? Vodka or gin?” She asked as she grabbed two red cups. 

You raise a brow at her. “Neither,” was your answer and she gave you a pointed look. You sigh and nod at the vodka, watching as she pours an uneven amount of it mixed with coke into the cup. 

“Drink up,” she stated as she handed it to you, her own cup in her free hand. “We’re here to have fun.”

You give her a thumbs up and take a sip of the drink that tasted like straight up vodka rather than a vodka mix. “Fuck,” you grimaced and she smirked at you.

“Good, right?”

Wrong. “Right,” you force yourself to nod and move off to the side when someone bumps into you from behind. 

“Sorry,” they say, making you turn and meet the eyes of a cute brunet boy. 

He definitely was not someone you’d look twice at, but he was nice looking nonetheless. 

You weren’t able to wave him off before Sam was reaching around you and tugging on the guy’s shirt. “Tan! You came!”

Tan grins and moves to stand beside the two of you. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I was planning on staying in tonight, then you asked if I wanted to meet you at this party and thought what the hell,”

Your eyes narrow as Sam had definitely forgotten to mention that she had invited a guy to tag along. “How nice,” she beamed, glancing over at you. “This is my roommate, Y/n. Y/n, Tanner.”

Tanner lifted his cup in a form of greeting. “Pleasure to meet you,” though the way he said that gave away the fact that he didn’t care much for your presence at all. 

You copy him with your own cup, glaring at Sam as you point towards the dining room area. “I’ll be over there,” you say, hoping she will follow you.

She doesn’t. “Okay, we’ll catch up later!”

And you were left to stay true to your own words as you wandered off into the next room with your too strong of a drink in your hand and a nervous look in your eyes. 

-

“Oh, dude,” Eli nudged Bradley from his spot on the couch. “What about that girl? She’s hot enough.”

Bradley and Wes both look over and see a girl standing in the dining room, her back to the wall as she holds her cup to her chest. 

She looked extremely uncomfortable, and Bradley felt a bit bad for her. He couldn’t remember seeing her around campus before, but he also couldn’t see very clearly right now. She was cute, though, he could admit that. 

“Damn, I think she’s hotter than Bri,” Wes commented, earning a glare from Bradley. “Not that I think Bri is hot or anything.”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered as tried to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. He looks over at the girl in the next room, his cold gaze softening just a bit. “She’s not my type.”

Eli scoffed, inhaling his second joint of the night. “She is so your type,”

Bradley rolled his eyes but focused on the girl for a bit. She was actually very cute, dare he say cuter than Bri, but he would never admit that. “She seems easy. I want a challenge,” he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth, and he knew that if his mom was still around she would’ve smacked him upside the head by now. 

“Make it a challenge, dude,” Wes suggested, leaning back against the couch with a hazy look. 

How could he do that? He just needed to make Bri jealous, that’s it. Why was he wanting to make it harder for himself? Maybe he just wanted to prove that he is someone who can be loved, and that he is someone who can be in a serious relationship. “I can make her fall in love with me,” he thought out loud and instantly regretted it as soon as he saw the look of mischief in Eli’s eyes. 

“Dude,” he said as if he was just told the greatest idea he’s ever heard. “You could totally make her fall in love with you.”

“Ah, I like it. Good idea,” Wes agreed, slapping Bradley’s shoulder for further effect. 

Bradley’s face fell a bit as he shook his head. “I can’t. I was with Bri for eleven months and she doesn’t give a shit about me. She never fell in love with me,” he tried to talk his way out of his own idea, but his friends seemed fully onboard. 

Eli rolled his eyes. “That was Bri, she doesn’t love anyone but herself. If she were to see someone else with you in that way she’ll come crawling back,” 

“Yeah, maybe you’ll even get her to stay on her knees,” Wes smirked and Bradley physically cringed. “I bet a thousand dollars on it.” 

That had both Bradley and Eli looking over at him in shock. “No shit,” Eli scoffed. 

“I will,” Westley says. “We all have it. I’ve got thousands of dollars saved up, Brad’s got his parents’ life insurance and your dad’s rich.” 

“I don’t like it,” Bradley mumbled but then Eli grinned. 

“I like it,” he said. “Dude, you have to do it now.” 

“What am I even doing? I have to make this girl fall in love with me or I lose? I’d have to owe the both of you one grand?” Bradley couldn’t wrap his head around any of this, or how he even managed to come up with this dumb idea in the first place, but he knew it was slipping out of his control at this point. 

“Nah, just five hundred each will be fine. You get this chick to love you, and you win a thousand bucks. It’s easy money, Bradshaw,” Wes pushed Bradley up so he was standing. “Do it, man.” He encouraged the cruel bet with a lazy smirk. 

Bradley shook his head as he stepped away. “Guys, this seems a bit fucked up,”

“Just do it, man, you came up with this,” Eli muttered. “Don’t be a bitch.”

And now he was once again pissed off. Eli knew he could get under his skin easily, and that was the exact reason they got into a fight during one of the parties they threw last year. 

Now Bradley wanted Eli to owe him money. He wanted to be able to hold that above him. He also wanted to hold that above Bri - that she was wrong. 

“Fuck off,” Bradley grunted as he walked towards the girl on unsteady legs. He definitely had too much to drink, and he’d like to think that he would’ve never come up with something like this, or even done it, while he was sober. 

His head was spinning a bit as he wandered into the dining room, though calling it that was a bit of a stretch since it only held a small round table with four chairs. 

What the fuck is he doing? Is he really about to drag a poor innocent girl into his fucked up world and pull a cruel prank on her? He wasn’t that kind of guy. His mother raised him better than this, so why was he now standing in front of said girl?

A slurred, “Hi,” came out of his mouth and she was now looking at him, and it was too late to turn back around. 

Her brow raised as she looked up at him, a shy and timid smile on her lips. “Hi,” 

Oh, God. 

That voice. 

She had possibly the sweetest voice Bradley had ever heard, and his mind went blank as he struggled to find words. “I, um,” he stuttered, his face flushing when she grinned up at him. He was usually fucking great at talking to girls, drunk or not, so this was getting kind of embarrassing. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you starting your first year?”

“No, my second,” 

“Really?” He asked, placing his forearm flat against the wall beside her head. “Weird…you’d think I would’ve remembered seeing you around campus.”

There he was. At least he got his beloved smooth talking skill back. 

The girl hummed. “Yeah, I usually keep to myself. It’s easier that way,”

Bradley lifted a brow and leaned a bit closer. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” he said after a few seconds. “I’m Bradley. I live here.”

She looked at him in surprise. “This is your party?”

He nodded and her smile softened a little bit. “Why do you look so surprised?”

She shrugged, hugging her drink close to her chest. “Well, this looks like a frat party, and you definitely look like a frat guy, but…”

He felt his confidence slipping away a bit as he straightened up his posture. “But?”

“You don’t really act like one,” she shrugged and sipped on her drink. Though she tried to hold back a grimace at the taste of the liquid in her cup, Bradley caught onto the fact that she really didn’t like it. 

Now he felt even worse since it was obvious she was only drinking as an attempt to fit in. 

Bradley furrowed his brows as he raised his free hand and took the cup from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked over the loud music, noting the grateful smile she gave him when he discarded the drink onto the table.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she quickly says. “Really, you seem sweet, not loud or arrogant like the other frat guys I’ve met.”

His gaze softened at that and he couldn’t fight the grin that was beginning to form on his lips. He leaned in closer and was met with the sweet scent of vanilla and peach, and if he wasn’t already, he was sure he could get drunk off it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,”

The girl gazed up at him, matching his dumb smile as she answered, “Y/n,”

[reyadawn]

My Protector - Part 2

*image not mine, credit goes to Bryan 😆

Summary: Noah Sebastian is the President of Bad Omens MC in Los Angeles, California and a woman running from her past crosses his path. Noah instantly wants to save her. Make her his. However, her past needs to be dealt with first...

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: 🔞+, language, slight violence, kissing, choking, slight Mean!Noah if you squint, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), creampie

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️😆

Enjoy! ❤️✌️

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

I had never really given much thought to living on the West Coast but the Universe had other plans. It's funny how your life can change...how people can change. That's why when my friend Kay called me and offered me a job at Third Base, I took it as a sign I was meant to leave this old life behind. Just like she did. Although, I was a little surprised to find out it was a bar.

"Believe it or not, it's a fanastic place. Always busy, plenty of tips, good food, hot biker guys...including my old man, Jolly", Kay had explained.

"Kay...", I started.

"You need to get out. You have to. It's not mentally safe or healthy for you there with Larry. The emotional abuse he's putting you through is destroying you. Bad Omens will protect you. Misty and I will, too. They have a club house you can stay at until you get an apartment or you can crash with me", Kay replied.

I smoothed out the front of my Bad Omens tank top that I wore over my black leggings. I hated the way they fit, like I was trying to pour myself into the material. Too much skin in places I didnt want but never really could get rid of. I looked pregnant from the side, despite the fact I wasnt. I grabbed a black and white checkered flannel from my closet and threw it on, rolling the sleeves up my forearms. I threw my hair up in a bun and threw on my socks and black ankle boots.

Walking out of the bathroom, I suddenly stopped in the bedroom and looked around. It was masculine in the sense the bedding was all black and blue, nightstand and dresser were dark stained wood, even the sheer curtains were navy. The walls remained a neutral taupe. I hated being at the Bad Omens clubhouse and not having my own place. I still didnt know who's room I got set up with but I made sure to keep it clean and neat, making it a point to only touch my things.

As I was grabbing my purse from the black Lazy-Boy in the corner, the door to the bedroom opened and the man who stepped inside had me quite literally salivating and I almost lost the grip on my purse. This man was an Adonis if I ever saw one. Tall, at least 6'3, short dark hair falling into dark brown eyes, a small but perfectly shaped nose and full lips that had me wanting to get down on all fours and crawl to him.

This man wore dark camo pants and a solid black t-shirt, arms and neck displaying the most beautiful tattoos; even his large hands and long fingers were tattood. He reached up, running a hand through his hair and the muscles in his arms buldged. I must have been staring because he smirked and took a step closer to me. I all but had to crane my head back to look up at him. Short people problems, gotta' love it.

"How are your accomodations, pretty girl?", he asked, his deep voice caressing over my senses like a lovers hand. I swallowed. It was all I could muster, I was rendered so speechless. He must get this a lot though, poor guy. He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a small lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm Noah. Club President and this is my room".

That snapped me out of my trance completely, taking a small step back from him which garnered me a dark scowl of distaste. Evidently, he didn't like that.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I'll have Misty get me a different room. I don't want to intrude", I rambled, turning back to the chair to grab my keys. A tattooed hand suddenly shot out to lock around my wrist and stilling my movements.

"First of all, pretty girl, lose the 'Sir'. I'm not that old. Noah is fine. Second of all, you're not changing rooms. You're staying here where you can be looked after", Noah replied. I yanked my wrist from his grip, glaring defiantly at him.

"Let's get something straight, President..."

Noah's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm not a child, therefore, I don't need a babysitter. I can hold my own. Don't make the mistake of thinking you own me, I belong to no one. I'm nothing to no one. Mean nothing. Never have, never will so save your protection detail for a real damsel in destress", I stated, hands on my hips. Noah stepped closer once again, fingertips gently tracing my jaw and down my neck. I shivered, goosebumps dancing along my skin and my panties growing damp. He lifted my chin, raising my gaze to his.

"Who hurt you, pretty girl?", he whispered. I lowered my eyes to his chin, unable to answer. "Tell me. Now". I shook my head.

Noah sighed before eveloping me in his arms, his solid body providing whatever comfort he could. I wasn't aware I needed the contact as I reluctantly wrapped my arms around his midrift. He was solid...and warm. I closed my eyes at the feeling of his strong body in my arms.

"I've got you", Noah added, voice vibrating in his chest against my cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you". Regaining my senses, I pulled away and sniffled, turning to straighten my clothes and threw my purse over my shoulder.

"You don't know what he's like", I replied, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

"Did he touch you?", Noah asked darkly. I blinked at his change in demeanor before shaking my head. "Verbal?", he added. I nodded curtly. Noah's lips drew into a thin line before he reached into his pants pocket, pulling a cell phone from it and handing it to me. I knew what he wanted as I typed my number in and saved it to his contacts before handing it back. Noah's fingers momentarily flew over the keys and my own phone dinged. "I expect to be on speed dial".

"I need to get to work or Misty will have my ass", I said, moving towards the door.

"Me first", Noah said, causing me to whirl at him in shock. He grinned fully, perfect white teeth flashing before motioning to lead the way. I walked through the main living area of the clubhouse, waving at Jolly, Nicholas and Davis before stepping through the double doors and into the warm L.A sun. I stopped to breathe in the fresh air before letting out a moan of renoun pleasure at the open space.

"You do that again around me and I'll fuck you over this goddamn bike", Noah said from behind me. I spun around, Noah's hand grabbing my forearm firmly but gently. I stared up at him in shock as he looked down at me from behind Neo-like sunglasses. "Keys. Now". I silently handed him my keys before turning and heading to my car. This was going to be a long ten minutes...

******************************************

Walking into Third Base, Noah hot on my heels, I was met with the smell of bar food, cigar smoke and bouts of laughter from crowded tables. Kay walked by, auburn hair thrown in a messy ponytail, and shot me a wink as she carefully balanced a large tray of drinks to a table in the back corner of the bar. There were a series of pool tables, a jukebox and overhead cieling fans that barely did anything to mask the heat.

Misty appeared around the corner, clipboard in hand and approached us.

"Thanks for bringing her by, Prez. I'll see she's looked after", she said, grabbing my hand to pull me after her but before I could take a step, Noah turned me to face him, lips descending upon my own in a short but heated kiss that left my lips tingling and my clit throbbing as he pulled away. Giving my ass a playful slap, Noah sauntered off to a nearby pool table where he met up with a few other chapter members. Misty and I suddenly looked at each other, facial expressions of mirrored shock clearly readable.

"The hell just happened, Misty?", I whispered harshly, a few other patrons watching me, all smirking.

"From the looks of it, I'd say the President of Bad Omens just claimed you as his old lady...publicly, I might add", she replied and turned towards the bar. I followed her without a word, bitting my bottom lip to hide my smile.

Most of the night was uneventful as Kay and I ran kitchen orders and served at the bar. I was in the process of cleaning off one of the tables when a voice behind me had my grip slipping on the beer glass and it clattered to the floor sending shards of glass scattering.

"Hello, angel". I spun around so hard I damn near fell over a chair as I stared at Larry in shock and fear. "Thought I might find you here. Seems like your kinda rundown place but playtime is over. It's time to go. Now".

He hadn't changed much in the months since I last saw him. His icy gaze pinned me where I stood yet I still managed to shake my head.

"Over my dead body", I said, gritting my teeth. Larry tipped his head back and laughed, his dark spiky hair glistening from the overhead lamps. The guy really did use too much hair gel.

"That can be arranged. Now, get your shit and let's go", he said, his hand latching around my arm to haul me to his chest. I tried fighting out of his hold, tried kicking him but all he did was laugh. "Damn, you're a fucking hellcat. Stop fighting me so we can--", but his words suddenly died. Following his line of sight I gasped at seeing Noah, Jolly, Nicholas, Nick and Davis standing in front of the entrance to the bar. Surprisingly, it was Jolly who stepped forward.

"You know...you fuck with a chapter members' old lady and you fuck with the chapter member himself. Especially when that old lady belongs to the clubs' President", he said, running his tongue over his teeth. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kay and Misty behind the bar, arms looped together, fear marring thier features.

"Club President? Of what? The Mickey Mouse Club? Get the fuck outta my way", Larry said moving to step forward but Jolly held up a hand. Larry stopped, irritation etching his fingers.

"Last chance, bro. Don't do this. Just walk away", Jolly warned.

"I don't have time for this shit. Move or I'll move you myself", Larry said, glaring at Jolly. Jolly simply shrugged and smiled as Noah steppd forward, hands behind his back. Larry looked up at him and the color drained from his face. Noah smiled.

"President", Larry said. Noah nodded once before his right fist shot out, connecting with the side of Larry's head. Noah caught me as Larry's body hit the floor and he gave me a quick peck before turning back to him.

"President of Bad Omens, to clarify, and if you ever come near my old lady again or even breathe in her direction then a right hook wont be the only thing you'll get served", Noah said, looming over Larry as he rubbed his jaw. Before I could say or do anything, Noah was pulling me after him around the bar and down a hallway. I barely had time to register the doors we passed as Noah led me into the 'OFFICE' and slammed the door.

"Noah, what--", I started but he cut me off with his lips. His hands pulled at my clothes to get them off and a wave of fear suddenly came to the surface at him seeing me naked but as he backed me up to the desk, lips kissing and biting thier way down my neck, I realized Noah didn't really give a fuck. My flannel shirt was tossed over his shoulder somewhere on the floor, my tank top was yanked down to expose my breasts and one of my boots joined the pile of clothes just for him to get one of my legs out of my leggings and hoist it up over his hip.

Noah's lips were like fire on my skin as I felt him pull my panties to the side to swipe his fingers through my drenched folds and graze my clit. My hips jerked in response and he chuckled against my skin before sinking two long fingers inside me to the knuckle. I threw my head back, letting out a pornographic moan I didn't care to hide as my walls clamped down on his fingers.

Noah's other hand was tearing at the zipper of his pants, freeing his painfully hard cock. He suddenly pulled his fingers free from my dripping cunt to push them into my mouth and I could taste myself on his tongue. Before I could say or do anything, he pulled his fingers from my mouth to wrap around my throat and haul my chest to his, lips crashing together. It was messy, all teeth and tongues.

I could feel the head of Noah's cock prod my dripping core and I gripped his muscular shoulders for purchase. A simple thrust had me stretching to accomodate and it burned oh so good.

I whimpered into Noah's kiss, his fingers squeezing ever so slighty around my throat as he thrust again, giving me a few more inches. My brain shut down, unable to process anything but the feeling of my pussy stretching around the thick rod between my thighs, feeling every ridge and vein caress my walls.

There were no words...there didn't need to be. I raked my nails down his arms, red streaks appearing in thier wake but Noah took no notice. Another thrust. A nother inch. It was agonizingly slow and I writhed beneath him, trying to pushing him deeper with my heel but he was much more powerful. More kisses to my chest and shoulder. Another thrust. Bite marks came next. I'd walk away looking like a leper but I didn't want him to stop. Noah's grunts and groans mixed with my own whimpers and cries as one last thrust had him seated inside me to the hilt. I had never been so deliciously full.

I pulled away from him only to sink my teeth into his shoulder as I screamed, my orgasm hitting me like a 2 x 4. Noah wasted no time, shuttling his cock almost ruthlessly inside my overstimulated pussy. I was so sensitive I was getting ready to come again, my nails digging into his flesh. Thrust after thrust had my body turning into putty, my brain remaining in a black out state and I let lose a scream, teeth sinking deeper. No doubt there'd be a bruise there for weeks.

Noah's pace increased, his hands griiping my hips like a vice. My thighs burned, legs were shaking as he gave a thrust so deep it sent me spiraling into another orgasm. Noah threw his head back, releasing a series of expletives as his cock twitched, rope after thick rope of come unloading inside me.

Noah held himself inside me as we struggled to catch our breath. I looked up at him through my lashes then, the euphoric look on his face causing my pussy to clench around him.

"Old lady, huh?", I asked between breaths. Noah nodded. "Well, so much for holding my own". We shared as smile as our lips met in a gentle kiss.

******************************************

@amourtoken @artificialstardust @bloodylullaby @bluestdai @collidewiththesavannah @concreteangel92 @concreteemo @dsireland86 @dreamstyles @dontcallme-angel @english-fucker @exitwoundsx @flowery-mess @fadingintothegrey @iamamatus @iluvmewwwww75 @kaliforniahigh @lilhobgobbler @lovexsleepyhead @lolitasangel @philomenie @sacredthefran @starsomens @sorrowsofsilence @millie-aubs @xcllnt @xmads-omensx @yarasdead

[amomentsescape]

Slashers Creating a Personal Carnival for Reader

Background: Reader becomes overstimulated from loud noises, but still wants to experience what it's like to go to the carnival and have fun. The Slashers want to help make this dream a reality for them.

A/N: This was a personal request I received through my messages. They asked to remain anonymous for this, but I hope they and everyone else enjoys!

Freddy Krueger

This man can literally turn the world into whatever he wants

So the night before, when you expressed how disappointed you were that you couldn't go to the town carnival, Freddy knew what to do

He always wants to make you smile, so seeing that frown was a big no in his book

He took time to plan out what he wanted to do while you were awake during the day

But that night when you went to sleep, you were shocked to find yourself in your very own carnival

There was no one else around, but you could smell the cotton candy in the air and feel the grass beneath your feet

Freddy popped up beside you with a wide smile

"Surprise!"

He then took you through everything you wanted to do

The games had every plushie you adored in multiple sizes and colors

Every ball you threw and every pin you knocked down barely made a sound

He even took you on a rollercoaster and sat beside you

There was a little wind on your skin, but the coaster remained quiet and didn't jostle you around like a normal one would

It was like he knew exactly what you needed in that moment

The night ended with you sharing some fair food together on a bench, the bright lights still dazzling around you

Michael Myers

He didn't quite understand why you were so upset at first

He thought carnivals were overrated and never had a desire to go to one himself

But he could see that sad look in your eye when you expressed your disappointment

You were the only person he actually cared about, so he knew he needed to do something to help you

The next morning, you went downstairs to the smell of popcorn

You could see that things had been changed around in the living room once you were there

There was an old fashioned popcorn maker in the corner

And next to it was an even older skee ball machine

Michael was standing beside them, just looking at your reaction

A huge smile grew on your face at the sight

Michael wasn't one to be sentimental, so the fact that he went out of his way to get these things for you meant a lot

He watched you play skee ball a couple of times before you dragged him over to play with you

He was surprisingly good for having not played before

After a couple more rounds, he pulled out a plushie of your favorite animal

It was a little dirty, but you can tell he probably looked high and low for it

He then sat you down on the chair in front of the TV and put on one of those roller coaster videos from online

You laughed at the video, enjoying hearing all the sounds and seeing the sky

But then the chair started to move in unison to the video, Michael squatting down and shifting it back and forth beside you

You ended the day off sharing popcorn together on the couch, listening to fair music from the TV

Jason Voorhees

The child in him can understand where you are coming from

He also used to want to go to carnivals, but he never felt comfortable doing so because of everyone teasing him

So now knowing that also want to experience what a fair is like, Jason felt motivated to make it a reality

You and him spending time together alone? Perfection, in his eyes

Plus, the woods are the perfect place to do this

Later that afternoon, Jason came inside and ushered you out the door to your confusion

But once outside, you saw an old roller coaster seat, a couple bags of cotton candy, a few small plushies, and an old basketball hoop

You looked at Jason confused before he handed you a basketball, watching you intently

You took a few moments to think about what to do before throwing the ball at the hoop, making it in right away

Jason walked over quickly and picked up one of the plushies, handing it to you

You began to laugh when you realized what he was doing

He quickly sat you in the roller coaster seat and began to move it around, imitating turns and bumps

This made you laugh even harder as he worked so hard to make it feel like an actual ride

You eventually had him sit beside you as you ate some cotton candy, telling Jason how much fun you had and how much you loved what he did for you

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas has also never been to a carnival before

But you explaining what they're supposed to be like and everything made him want to go with you

But he understands how they can become sensory overload

They'd probably be too much for him to handle too

So why not bring the carnival to you instead?

You woke up in the morning to the backyard being all decked out

There were bags on candy and plushies on a table next to a balloon "popping" game

Thomas was super proud of himself for building the game just for you

He took your hand and led you over to everything

He watched you bounce a small ball on a few balloons, handing you a plushie afterwards

(Having the ball bounce was his way of popping the balloons without the loud sound)

He even managed to bounce a couple himself

He also shared some candy with you in between rounds of playing

Thomas eventually took you back inside to the living room where he had a basket and a fan hooked up

He sat you down inside and turned on the fan, letting it blow on you

He then began to push the basket around on the floor, leading you all over the place in the living room

All that could be heard were your giggles throughout the house

Bubba Sawyer

As fun as carnivals sounded, Bubba never really got to go to one either

But all he knew was that you wanted to go but was upset that you couldn't because of the sensory stimulation

So Bubba decided to stay up all night, building what he could out of scrap metal and wood he had around the house

He managed to rig up a game where you tried to knock glass bottles over

He also built a little wooden stand where you could "purchase" snacks and drinks

He even dug a small path in the ground for a small basket to follow

When he excitedly dragged you outside the next morning, you were shocked to see everything

He hurriedly gave you a ball and motioned for you to knock down the pins

He then rewarded you with a plushie even if you didn't get them all down

He offered you candy, gave you big hugs, and even tried to "win" you extra plushies

The day ended with him pushing you in the basket along the dug out path, winding around the yard and making you smile in delight

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had been to his share of carnivals in the past, but he hates seeing that frown on your face since you haven't done the same

He doesn't like leaving the house of course, but he does the best that he can

He makes each piece of furniture in the house a different ride for you

He even raids the pantries for extra snacks and foods that he thinks you'll like

And his old stuffed animals? The perfect prizes for winning some games!

He waits until the night, waking you up from your sleep to take you downstairs

He adjusted the lighting so it was a little darker, but this made everything else stand out

He put on some music on the record player as he took you on all the rides, giving you hugs from behind

And although they weren't quite traditional fair games, he did the best he could with his parent's old pool table, setting up different plastic cups to knock down

And every plushie you won was a memory for Brahms, which made it even more special

Although a little selfish, he can be quite romantic when he wants to be

Norman Bates

He can't bear to see you cry like this

He'd love to go to the carnival with you, but he also wants to see you comfortable and happy

He decides to close the motel for the day- anything for you was worth it

And after breakfast, you were surprised to see that each motel room had been turned into something different

Some had different games in them

Others had sweets and fair food

And one even had your own little rollercoaster, the TV playing a ride POV for you

You about jumped in his arms when you saw everything

You excitedly grabbed his hand and pulled him along to each room, making sure that he played and ate alongside you the whole time

It wouldn't have been the same if he wasn't at the carnival with you

Your favorite was the rollercoaster though, loving how he stayed close to your side as he moved the "ride" around in unison to the TV

Everything was perfect

And Norman reserved the last room as a little resting area, cuddling up next to you on the bed and asking how you liked everything

He thinks that maybe he should do this again in the future

Billy Loomis

With the carnival coming to town, Billy could immediately tell that something was wrong

When you told him about your disappointment, he wiped away your tears and told you it would be okay

A couple days later, you were at the empty town fair with Billy

All it took were a couple threats from "Ghostface" to the police station for the residents to not show up that day to the carnival

He toured you around for a bit, showing you all the food and rides

And when you were ready, you guys ended up trying out some of the games

He let you pick out whatever plushie you wanted and he got it down for you

He also sat in the rollercoaster cart with you, letting you experience what it was like to be in one with him without all the loud noises and craziness that usually come with the ride

And he happily hopped into a couple different food trucks, pretending to be a worker and asking for your order

It was probably the best date you've had with Billy so far

Stu Macher

Stu despises seeing you upset about anything

He'd go to the lengths of the earth to keep you smiling

So when he told you to come over to his place for date night, you were shocked to see your own mini carnival inside his living room

All of your favorite foods and drink were set out on the table

And he even made his own version of the pin game you'd normally see at carnivals

He may have stolen some of the "winnable" plushies however

But it's the thought that counts in his book

The fact that he did all of this for you was enough to make you cry

He happily took your hand and led you over to everything, explaining what he did and how you both were going to have so much fun

He even made a couple cut outs in a large box he had, allowing both of you to fit in the "rollercoaster" ride

He tried mimicking the actual ride by making funny noises and putting his hands in the air, shaking the box around with you in it

He may have knocked you both over a couple of times, but it was still fun either way

Eric Draven

You're sad about not being able to go to the carnival?

Well lucky for you, Eric has access to his share of empty rooftops, giving you plenty of room to have fun

He spent a couple of nights piecing together different games and foods that he thought you would like

He even bought a few different strings lights to give off that colorful experience you'd see at an actual fair

He waited until the middle of the night once the city was asleep to take you onto the rooftop with him

It was honestly so pretty

The lights, the gentle music, and the cool feeling of the night air was perfect

Your carnival visit was very relaxing too

You played some games together, Eric insisting that he had to play a few rounds in order to win you a plushie

And to your surprise, he "won" you the stuffed animal you had been eyeing in the store a week ago

And any fair food you've wanted to try? Eric somehow has it for you

You both ended the night sharing cotton candy and looking out over the quiet city together, your head resting on his shoulder

[aetherdoesthings]

Hey can you write a fic about being in a love triangle with Zoro and sanji(non poly) they fight over reader and they (preferably female reader but gender neutral is good too) are oblivious?

Plus I love your stories!

hey aishabbbb! thanks for the compliment! i'm glad you enjoy my stories!

forethoughts: woah aether posts again on the same day?!?!? this is similar to the love triangle w nami and sanji, but switched out nami, Y/N has a different role this time.

notes: fem!reader, zoro and sanji being competitive, oblivious reader

You were the new seamstress of the Straw Hat Pirates (A role Luffy thought would be cool, since you could always make clothes on the go and funny disguises)

You spent your days in your room separate from Nami and Robin, since your materials took more space. You made different clothes for different occasions. You spent your time mostly locked in your room, since you couldn’t really help physically with the Straw Hats, so you focused on your craft.

The only times you would come out was if Nami forced you to go on a shopping spree with her and Robin, and for meals.

Two people had a really big problem with your habit of staying indoors.

The swordsman who wanted you to go outside more in order to be more healthy, and the cook who wanted you to be nourished with food and enjoy the world.

Zoro and Sani always fight over everything. Literally, you can’t stop them at all from throwing hands at each other. But when it came to you, oh.

Oh

OH THEY WERE GONNA FIGHT.

Since the moment you joined on board, both men had their sights set on you. Sanji because you were a girl, and Zoro because you were an attractive and diligent worker. They implicitly made a bet with each other, seeing who would get you to spend more time outside your room.

Zoro would barge into your room whenever he felt like it, telling you to help him train in the gym. You just went along with the swordsman’s request. You didn’t know you would be sitting on his back as he did one handed push ups. You threw punches at Zoro while he was blindfolded, insisting ‘you couldn’t even hit me if you tried’.

You hit Zoro square in the nose.

Zoro smiles at your hit, reassuring that he was okay and told you that you should join him in the gym, whether to practice your swings on Zoro or just act as a weight.

Sanji hated seeing Zoro treat you, a girl so callously. A weight? The audacity.

Sanji would cook you the most gourmet meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, giving Zoro the scraps of your meal.

Everytime Sanji sees you exit the gym, he’ll immediately walk towards you and offer to give you a small snack or dessert after Zoro’s ‘inhumane treatment’. You’ll usually turn down, but that’s when Sanij turns from a cook to a salesman. Sanji offers to teach you how to make the snacks and desserts, which you happily say yes to, because you loved learning new things.

To Sanji’s dismay, the treats Sanji taught you how to make found its way into Zoro’s mouth. Knowing how to bake, you gave little protein treats to Zoro to eat after he completed his workout.

Zoro always accepted your little snacks, eating it right in front of Sanji and explicitly stating it was from you, just to make the cook jealous.

Sanji wasn’t necessarily losing the bet though. You now spent a quarter of your day with Zoro, and now baking with Sanji. You could be found in the kitchen learning a new recipe with Sanji, cracking jokes and creating beautiful snacks and treats.

You were completely oblivious to the fact they were doing all of this just to get you out of your room because they loved you, so you relished in getting a good workout with Zoro, and having fun with Sanji.

You’d make oven mitts for Sanji, as you were heavily concerned how he took a steaming hot tray out of the oven so haphazardly. Now, he would always use the oven mitts you knitted for him. 

You’d also make Zoro gloves, since his knuckles always gets red when he fights during harsh temperatures. 

Now it’s a regular sight to see two fully grown man argue about oven mitts and gloves.

“Why are Zoro and Sanji arguing?” Nami asks Robin.

“They’re fighting over Y/N’s gifts she gave them.” Robin answered.

“Don’t they know Y/N gave all of us gifts and not just them?”’

“Do you think they will in the state they’re in?”

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Baby I’m home! | Nico Hischier x Reader

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Warnings: smut, language, not much of dirty talk (there literally is none).

Summary: Nico come back from a roadie in Minnesota, they had lost their chance to get into the playoffs. Nico gets h0rny and…

A:N- HELP I’m so tired it’s so hard to keep writing, again I don’t have faith that I’ll like this piece but I spent 2 days trying to write it so here 🫶😉🍇

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a roadie Nico returns home. The devs went to Minnesota and they had lost. Originally you were asked to come, actually the coaching staff were going to pay for some of the WAGs to go. Last time, the boys had gotten in a huge argument about the gameplay, and who should be on the first lineup. That’s not in their hands, it’s in the coaches and the stats of the players. Anyway, to keep them from miss behaving, the women were allowed to come.

“Baby!” Nico yells out for me in his American accent. He’s wearing his white tank top that stretch over his back and biceps, wow. He’s a smoke show.

“I wish you went! The Girls went out to the bars and the boys stayed behind and watched bar fights break out.” Nico explains. I’m actually quite nervous that he’s not showing any emotions.

Why is this loss so important? Because it was the devils last chance to win or even tie the game to get into the playoffs. Statistically in team stats overall no, they shouldn’t make it, but in number in points from each individual players had, yes they would have made it and probably win. John is an incredible defender, and so is Luke. Jack is a beautifully gifted skater and Jesper has the moves to skate within seconds across the whole rink. Ofcirese, Nico. My beautiful man. He is the most manly boy in the team, big muscles, coordination, and most importantly his social media presence. Everyone loves him.

I mean I love him.

“I know! I’m sorry.” I shout from our bedroom upstairs. Hear bags drop from downstairs and I think I hear some mumbling. I didn’t go on the roadie because I had work and I’m getting the worst headache for the last week.

“I brought up some meds. Does it still hurt?” Nico questioned and he pulls his tank top off and threw it onto our hamper that rots in our closet. Holy heaven of Abs. He’s just so fucking lovable, I don’t care about the fact he’s hot, but the way he carries himslef, he knows that no matter what he does, it’ll be intentional for him.

“Yes, thank you bubba.” I responded as I take the bottle of pills and take two pills. Yes, my head hurts so much I took two.

“Can we grab something to eat? I hungry.” Nico asked as he takes me by my hips.

He grasped onto my hips and ricks me back and forth, I can hear his stomach growl as he rests his head onto my shoulder. He shoved his head into the crook of my neck, I can feel him take my perfume from my body and pull it into his lungs. He’s smiling, I can feel his lips against my ear, and he starts to wrap his legs around my feet.

He starts to hurt me around and now I’m facing him, he’s looking straight into my eyes. He takes my hand and he places it to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, and it’s pounding. My stomach drops as he sweeps my from my feet and onto the bed.

“Do you want food? Or we can stay in and shower, then you know do whatever.” Nico suggested, I can feel him slipping away from me. He gets up and grabs his bag.

“You better not get your gear! Its stinks!” I yell after him as nico turns to the stairs to grab his away game items.

“Baby!” Nico shouts for me. “Can you grab some milk? I wnat pasta.” Nico I a sucker for some creamy and thick pasta.

I run down the stairs and I slide into the kitchen in my socks. I have on my- well Nico’s favorite shirt on me, it’s a blue halter top that wraps around my neck with beads, it has shells laces together at the bottom almost as if it were a belly chain, and the shirt is cropped above my belly button and it’s ribbed. It’s cute, but it works better for a swimsuit cover up.

“You look sexy.” Nico slips as he eyes my shorts.

Nico,a boxers are a bit to big for me butt I slide them on anyway, and the best part is that it’s plain black, so it really does match my outfit, it’s called my “I don’t fucking care” outfit. I love the outfit, nice and short and skin tight so I can get every little breeze in, especially since it’s March and season is almost over.

“Are you gonna grab the milk? Also while you’re at it could you grab the packaged rav?” Nico requested as he slips his old man slippers on. He collects his supply’s such as a pan, the milk I gave him and the ravioli, and of course some pesto. It’s not really pasta, but he diced up some cheese, slipped some butter in the ravioli, and he stirred everything together. He lets it set as he grabs two plates. I didn’t wnat any but he knew I haven’t eaten since he left. He puts some buttered pesto cheesy ravioli on my plate and as the man he is, he cooked it so he gets more. He just flips the pan upside down and gathers all of the pasta.

He finished up with dishes since we finished the ravioli, it was delicious.

“So, you wanna shower?” Nico asked me and I can feel him getting really close to me. He picks my hands up and we start to slow dance to the sound of construction in the neighborhood.

“Yeah, well YOU need to shower more, you’re stinky.” I say in a sarcastic way. He looks me dead in the eye and he picks me up. He carry’s me up the stairs and he throws me down onto the bed.

The blunt force of getting absolutely demolished by this man felt oddly great. He pulls my hair to the side and he starts to kiss my neck. I feel his stubble graze my skin. He’s warm breath is trapped in between my jawline and his lips. He pulls away and rubs his chest, he walks out of the room.

I hear the shower turn on, he moans along the sound of water hitting the grout in the bathroom. Nico enters the room eyeing his next meal.

Me.

I took my clothes off and I lay back as if I didn’t move. Nico runs towards me and kisses my forehead all the way down to my belly button. He licks my creases. He holds my breasts as he nibbles down onto my thigh. He looks up at me grinning, and I understand what is about to happen.

~

Water is everywhere. Nico had picked me up and slid his pants off. We had been teasing eachother for about three minutes, then he got to needy. His very hard veiny cock hits his abdomen every time I kiss him, it’s like it has its on pulse.

“Never stop.” Nico says as I go down to my knees. I kiss his v-line and he holds onto my hair. He grips onto me and he pressed his back against the wall. I lick his tip, and then I start to pump. I again start to take him into my mouth, I feel like gagging, it’s so gross, I c at take the taste of cum, but for him I will. I start to moan, enjoying my time trying to please him. Nico throws his head back and starts to get loud, he bangs his hand against the opposite wall, and he’s hunched over. I have very little space to suck. The water starts to get cold so I get up from going down on him. I turn the water to a hotter temperature and I massage his biceps, he starts to get really really warm. He dick is really pushed up against himself.

Nico looks like he’s going to cum, I mean he already did in my mouth, but now he’s opening his mouth anbd says “Turn.” One work that this man says to me and I fold. Nico takes me by my waist and bends down. He’s on one knee as he grips onto me. Nico pumps himself, he’s jerking hard enough to cause me cum. He starts to kiss me down under. I look down and he’s on both knees now, making love to my pussy.

I start to move, I can’t take it anymore, I pull his hand away from my upper body and force three fingers up my hole.

“Woah, woah, you can’t get it to fast.” Nico pulls out and sucks on his finger. He gets up and he pulls me onto his chest. I feel his cock on my back. I turn on my heels and I find Nico smirking down at me. I lay down in the shower as steam fills the large room.

“Legs.” Nico says, but in his switz accent. I do as I’m told and I start to run my clit.

“You’re soaking.” Nico eyes my pussy as he pumps into me. I feel his tip, now his whole cock is inside. He’s warm, and I can feel him twitch as he try’s to say, “can I?” He’s asking for approval to start moving, and I oblige.

“Yes, and of fucking course I’m soaking.” I say as I look up towards the hot water. Nico develops red dots on his back as he starts to thrust himself into me.

“Come for me baby.”

I start to moan and I feel him practically in my lungs. He stands up as he starts to cum. Strings of our future kids are coming out of my 3rd favorite piece of him.

“Oh baby.” I look at him and his dimples are showing. I start to cum again when I see him stand up.

I push him back down as I throw myslef on top of him. I sit on him and his friend. I take a minute to catch my breath as I relax to take him. It’s been four days since we’ve had sex. I push my hand onto his chest and my other in his abs, I can feel him cum, streams of warm substance fills me, and I take myself off of him. I sit in his face and he licks me clean, but that’s before I start to cum into his mouth.

“Let’s clean up, so we can do it again later.” Nico request as I get up and I start to clean up my hair from the knots it’s been tangled into. I grab shampoo and lather it onto Nico’s head and into mine. I feel Nico wash his head as the water falls into my crevices.

We warm up and dry off and Nico swoops me up again and he snuggles me into his arms as he turns our heated blanket on. I’m stuck in his large arms and I’m glad it’s him I can feel poking up at me again.

“Baby, I’m glad you’re home.” I say as I turn my head around to kiss his cheek.

[engeorged]

Dear Alex

Dear Alex,

I can’t really remember how many times I’ve started writing this letter and how many times I’ve thrown it in the bin. It’s a really shitty way of doing this but I just don’t think I can tell you any of this to your face. I’m too embarrassed. It all started as a prank, a way to level the tables with the both of us. I meant to tell you sooner but I guess it got out of hand and here we are. I’m gonna have to start at the beginning I think. You’ll know all of this, just not my side of it I guess.

After university when we moved in together I wasn’t sure we’d last as room mates for more than a few months but it was so easy hanging out with you and we were both the same level of untidy so we didn’t piss each other off. We did have those tricky few weeks a few years back when we dated the same guy without realising but he turned into the biggest ballsack on the planet so it wasn’t hard to get over that!

I’m only mentioning that because that’s not the reason I got you fat. It wasn’t revenge for anything. I don’t fully remember the original reason to be completely honest, it wasn’t really a thought through thing, it just sort of happened. And yeah I know I just threw that it there. I got you fat. I mean you definitely played your part in it but I really messed with you man and I’m sorry.

It was innocent at first, I noticed when you started your new job and you were tired all the time, you started going to the gym less. I think it was when we were decorating the kitchen one weekend and you were painting the ceiling, I saw your rounded little pot belly when you were reaching up. All those late night take aways and evenings sat in front of the tv watching the football were taking their toll. Your flat muscled six pack was disappearing. It instantly filled me with hope. You had a flaw I could exploit!

It pains me to say this but of the two of us, you’d always been the hot one. Don’t get me wrong, on my own, I’m not bad looking. In fact if someone asked me I’d probably say I was a nine, it’s just that next to you, I’m a seven at best. Your blonde hair and permanently tanned skin made you the hottest guy in most rooms. All 6’5 of you was built like a cartoon of a rugby player which made it even worse! You’re a solid ten man and you always have been. I don’t think I realised how jealous I was until I saw you had a flaw. That solid curved furry belly I glimpsed gave me the seed of an idea. If you were fatter, it might even the playing field. I’m not proud of this, I just think you’d reserve the truth.

It started gently at first, I’d make twice the amount of food I’d normally make when it was my turn to cook. I’d pack the fridge with snacks and unhealthy things for you to pick at. I’d hand you beers when we were watching the game. You were so zoned into the match you never noticed me topping up your snacks or replacing the bud lights with full fat beers. Over a few months I watched as your little curve turned into a more substantial beer belly. And fuck you if it wasn’t the most perfect beer belly I’d ever seen. I was hoping it would make you less hot but turned out it made you hotter. Instead of a flabby pimply gut covered in stretch marks, you developed a firm round belly with perfect skin and even kept your Adonis belt. That’s when it got serious.

The first thing was gainer shakes. I started sprinkling gainer powder in everything, adding it to every meal or sauce I could dissolve it into. Everything I cooked for you was loaded with butter and ghee to double the calorie count. I found larger versions of our plates so that I could increase your portion sizes without you realising. I even started buying your clothes a size up and replacing the labels so you wouldn't realise. I was literally feeding you up like a fattened calf. And boy did you balloon. The first phase was months long and you gained 20/30lbs but this second phase was like you were being filled with an air pump. I can’t really believe I could do this to someone, especially someone who I would call my best friend.

It all came to a head yesterday when I crossed the line big time. That’s why I’m writing this letter now and actually sending it. I can hear you now snoring from your bedroom. Sleeping off the mammoth meal I stuffed into you across the evening. I’ve been awake all night and I keep going in to check on you to make sure you’re still breathing. I can’t believe you ate as much as you did and I can’t believe I pushed you into doing it.

I was only planning on slipping you a few of the tablets I found online. They were definitely safe and I want you to know I checked them and double checked them to make sure they were ok for human consumption. I guess that gives away the fact that they were actually for animals. I think they are used by wagyu beef farmers to get cows fattened up before they are butchered. They are supposed to increase appetite and metabolism. I popped two in your beer before the game and started my usual sneaky increase in your snacks. It wasn’t hard as you always put a lot away when our team is winning and they were three goals up by half time. I think at that point you’d eaten two bowls of Doritos and dip, a plate of sliders and a whole pan of chilli which I think would have served 8 comfortably. That was on top of the best of a crate of twelve beers. Your belly was swollen up to it’s usual bulging mass and you were already rubbing the sides to alleviate some pressure. I should have stopped there but I couldn’t help myself. I slipped you another few of the tablets. I guess in hindsight, the first two hadn’t properly kicked in at that point which meant that by the time the second half had started they were in full force. I couldn’t keep up with the snacks and you’d pretty much polished off the lot by the time the match had ended.

For the record it was your idea to order pizza. Your belly at that point was totally rounded out and your T-shirt was stretched over it’s taut surface. I guess you were pretty buzzed because you ordered four xl meat feasts. I didn’t really have any choice but to let it happen. And you might not remember any of this but you basically inhaled the first two. By that point you were fully maxed out. Your belly was tight and even the xxxl T-shirt you were wearing (that you thought was an xl) was beginning to show a few inches of your swollen belly. You could hardly move and I felt awful. Well that’s not totally true. I was actually pretty pleased at the state of you. My plan after all was to make you gain a few pounds so I’d be hotter than you and you’d basically blimped.

Anyway, what happened next I am truly ashamed about. You were laying there on the sofa clutching at your belly. The tablets clearly convincing your brain you were still starving, even thought your belly was basically an exercise ball now. And you were just moaning with the two pizzas next to you. And that’s when I snapped. I jumped up and shoved a whole slice into your mouth. You gaged but then after a few chews swallowed it right down. Slice by slice I pushed the remaining two huge pizzas down your throat. I could literally see your belly blowing up in front of me. When eventually I reached into the box for the next piece and found nothing, I realised what I’d done. I stepped back and looked at you. Spread eagle on the sofa, your belly sticking way up and round. Covered in sweat and grease. It’s as if I stepped out of my own body and realised what I had done to you. You were fucking huge man.

I left the room and went to my own to consider what to do next. I was half appalled and half in awe at the size of you man. When I came in half an hour later you were fast asleep and snoring like a pig, your gut still very much occupying its space. Guiltily, I managed to get you into your bed and laid you on your back so your belly could reach its full swell. I pulled your belt off so your stomach wasn’t under any pressure. I didn’t want you to pop or anything.

As I said I know our friendship is probably over but I want you to know I’m truly sorry. I took this way too far and I regret it. I’m happy for you to do what you need to do, and if that’s punch me in the face then so be it. I hope that in a few weeks you’ll be able to forgive me but if not then I understand and I will move out if that’s what you want.

In the spirit of fully disclosure, I want you to know that even though you’re maybe 100lbs fatter than you were, I still think you’re a ten. In fact if I’m really honest, I think you might even be hotter than that. Your belly last night was horrifying but also strangely attractive. The firm roundness of it and knowing how much food I’d crammed in there was actually quite erotic. Sorry if that’s tmi but I think I wanted you to have the whole truth. I have a small suspicion that you’ve actually enjoyed getting bigger and if that’s wrong then I’m sorry for presuming. But I actually wonder how big we could get that thing.

Let me know what I can do to make it up to you, or if I’m right and you wanna continue.

Yours apologetically (and hopefully)

Nate

Continued at Dear Nate

For the rest of my stories click here

[mariariley]

Reaching out

Simon Riley x reader

2nd person

feminine terms such as: sweetheart, love, girl

reader is Simon’s s/o

WARNING: eating disorder

Word count: 1k

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

Food makes me sick and gives me fear that I will ruin my body. I feel guilt every time I eat. My appetite keeps getting worse. I’m writing this on the behalf of all people out there who are struggling with the same problem hence I’m writing in 2nd person. I chose Simon for this because he represents great comfort for me.

Additional inspiration by @saintship 🖤

Every time he lays his eyes on you it seems as if you’re getting thinner. Every time he holds you he fears he’s going to snap you in half. Your wrists and ankles appear thinner as your cheeks are starting to stick to your teeth, exposing your paper cutting cheekbones. The color of your skin had a lack of necessary vitamins and minerals written all over it.

When he’d trace his hand over your back he could count every vertebra in your spine, as well as you ribs. When he’d kiss your collarbones he’d notice how unnervingly exposed they’ve gotten.

He’d notice how you’d try to hide it with wearing his clothes more often.

You wouldn’t talk to him. You wouldn’t tell him anything. You didn’t want to be a burden.

“‘ere ya go, luv.” he said as he served your favorite mug filled with warm tea he’s just made, sitting his heavy body at the kitchen table diagonally from you.

You thanked him quietly as your sleepy body was still trying to adapt to the gloomy morning you had to face. His casual black t-shirt that you often sleep in protecting your tormented body from the light cool breeze of the slightly open window behind you.

“Look at me, luv.” his voice dipped in a barrel with “serious” written all over it.

You wouldn’t lift your heavy head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“Sweethear’, please, look at me.” he adjusted in his seat, leaning closer to you with his elbows on his knees. His gloved hands and a gently ticking watch around his wrist that would fill in the gaps of silence meeting your bowed gaze.

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“Y/N.” your name being coated by his raspy voice coming from his smoker cords and rough accent from suburban Manchester made your empty stomach ache even more. His tone calm though. As if he was trying not to scare a hopeless wounded animal sitting before him.

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“I am many things but oblivious is not one of ‘em. You need to talk to me, luv. You need to tell me what’s bothering you.” he said as you’d feel his gaze piercing through you.

“There’s nothing wrong with reaching out, luv, you know that?”

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“You need to eat. You cannot live with a cuppa and a single biscuit hoping those liters and liters of water you’ve been drinking day after day will ease the hunger.” the amount of reality he was pouring into your brain was almost making your tears come out of your stomach instead of your eyes.

But you wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

Which would slam a thick nail into his stone cold heart.

“Listen to me carefully now. There’s two sandwiches in the fridge, ham and peanut butter jelly. You will have a glass of milk with that. For lunch I’ve made the British classic, fish and chips. We will ignore the fact I am not capable of making anything else.” he threw a little joke in there which pulled your lips into a tiny smile and made your gaze finally lift up.

Your sweet eyes met his. You couldn’t see the smile of relief under his mask but his cheeks lightly scrunching underneath his eyes was telling you enough.

“That’s my good gal.” he said before his tall broad figure with a dark aura stood in front of you, looking down at you.

“I will be back before six. I don’t want to see a single crumb on the plates when I get back. Do I make myself clear, soldier?” so he wouldn’t make it sound hoarse and aggressive, he made it entertaining for you.

“Copy loud and clear, lieutenant.” finally he got feedback from you.

“Good.” he said as he leaned to plant a soft kiss on your temple, placing his hand on the back of your head. He was looking down at you for a couple of seconds filled with comforting silence. All that you could hear is his loud inhales that were coming through the dark fabric of his mask. All that you could feel is his hand soothingly stroking your head.

“You willingly did all this for me…?” you asked.

“Shhh. Don’t speak.” he said almost through a whisper before he lifted his mask merely to reveal his mouth. He slowly leaned and planted a petal soft yet long kiss onto your forehead as he closed his heavy eye lids.

You thickly swallowed the urge to burst into tears on his lightly equipped gear he prepared for today’s short mission. Your mouth danced along with your eyebrows as a singular tear tickled its way down your cheek and along your jawline before Simon’s glove caught it.

He gently lifted your head farther up by the chin, holding painful yet soothing eye contact.

“Promise me you will do it.”

“Simon, I-“

“Promise me.”

“I will…” you said as a deep sharp breath scratched your lungs.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise.”

“That’s my sweet gal. You know how to make me proud, don’t you?” he kept tickling your heart with praises and encouragement as he very carefully tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

The last thing you felt was a gentle stroke of his bare thumb on your cheek as the rest of his gloved hand nicely warmed it up.

“Can you buy me those chocolate chip cookies I like on your way back? And some gummies perhaps…” your voice toned down with each word you’d barely muster.

What you said made a light chuckle escape Simon’s chest as the sound of his heavy boots thumping on the old creaking floor was making its way to the front door.

“Duly noted.” was the last thing you heard from him before the sound of the heavy door closing greeted him out, pulling the air from the window and making it whistle its way across your mug as the herb scented steam danced along.

Dividers belong to @firefly-graphics 🖤

[pumpkinbxtch]

Greetings again, since you replied that you write for Lester I wanted to give you my request, without obligation or rush obviously.  I had thought of a one-shot set during The Trials of Apollo where reader knows about Lester's crush on Reyna and is extremely jealous about it, so much so that when he is rejected, reader doesn't even want to give him a little support.  With a happy ending because I don't need my depression at my door!  Thanks again for your availability and I apologize for the inconvenience and misunderstandings since English is not my language.  ☀️

“hope python eats you” ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— apollo x fem!reader

summary: do you like Apollo. does he like you? uhmm no. he likes Reyna and you're dying of jealousy. but perhaps the situation is not so hopeless. warning: swear words. a/n: heeyyyy, here you haveeeee. i'm hopin' that you like this. Reyna and Apollo's scene is one of my favorites, it makes me laugh how she reject him. haha, poor baby. Thank you for trusting me 💙 - Kisses from saturn, maría

Why did you have to get along so well with Reyna?

You took a sip of your apple juice and caught Apollo looking at her; those little glances, the nervous giggles and the babbling when he was around her.

You shifted in your seat, snorting and letting out small curses. Why did you have to fall in love with him? It was literally the worst.

Inside your thoughts you heard a gasp and felt water splashing right into your face. You looked ahead, disoriented. Apollo had red cheeks and stammered apologies.

— dork! — Meg shouted at him, hitting the guy on the shoulder. She looked at you and you rolled your eyes. It was like the third time Apollo ended up spilling his food just because Reyna caught him watching, always ended up all over you or Meg.

Cherry soda dripped from your chin.

He looked at you worried, more for his personal good because of what you could do to him.

— Sorry!

You lifted slightly from your seat and grabbed napkins to dry yourself.

— You are an idiot. I don't know why I don't help Python eat you.— You touched your cheeks.

— Hey!

Meg let out a laugh, making you break your scowl. How horrible love was.

—Gods, why me?! — Meg shouted, cutting her underbrush with her scimitar. You watched her out of the corner of your eye while you took stones and threw them with force. One of them with such force that it was buried in the surface of a fruit.

You wished that were the face of Apollo

— You wish it were Apollo's face.

You laughed and nudged Meg, clearly playing.

— Meg, kill me. I hate that I like your brother.

Meg shook her head and continued digging with the tips of her swords. You climbed a few more meters and the antenna was already visible.

— I don't understand how you like him.

You let out a whimper. 

A laugh echoed and both of you turned around.

—They're having a good time— You murmured, trying to escalate further. You tilted your head, trying to listen better. —Is that laugh from Reyna?

Meg narrowed her eyes at the sound and nodded. —yep.

Practically, after almost dying and hanging from high altitudes, you were able to eat in the comfort of the camp. But to be honest, your hands were still shaking.

You didn't know if it was because you had witnessed the death of another god or because you couldn't believe that Apollo had proposed to Reyna and that she had, in fact, rejected him.

Maybe it was the second.

The moans echoed around the table again.

— I'm an idiot.

Meg looked at you out of the corner of her eye. Your look was gone and half of your food was cold.

Maybe you were overwhelmed by everything, actually.

Another squeal from Apollo made you clench your fork.

— SHUT UP!

You screamed and threw the metal cutlery at him, making him scream.

—You should hug me and cry with me.

You snorted.

— Never, I don't know why you told Reyna your feelings like that!

—And how was I supposed to do it?

— You are the god of poetry, shouldn't you already know that? You are a fake.

Apollo let out an indignant groan. He looked to Meg for support, but she agreed with you by nodding and extending her palm towards you.

— she has a point. Hmmm — and she went back to devouring her salad.

You went to sleep, and the first to fall like a log was Meg. You kept trying to shrink and squeeze your eyes until they finally stuck together, and slept, but you couldn't.

Stayed quiet and played with the seams of the mat you were resting on. You felt overstimulated, very restless and miserable. Almost as always, but this time it was for love.

Meg's soft snores made you smile.

The three had been through a lot up to that point. You had gotten used to it and feared what would happen next. You couldn't hide what you were feeling anymore, it was unfair to your sleep cycle.

Apollo could be unbearable, but he had a good heart. He learned consideration and to value effort. You had become hooked on that part of him and ended up falling in love.

You pressed the seams of the pillow together and let out a sigh.

— You don't sleep, either?

His voice behind you made your heart race. You cursed in your mind. The least you wanted was to talk to him.

— I was about to — You mumbled, a certain meanness could be heard in your voice. Apollo laughed softly, it almost seemed like he was humming a song.

— Sorry.

You adjusted the sheet.

— Alright.

—I'm sorry for spitting soda so many times in your face.— You struggled and wanted to prevent your heart from feeling anything because of his clumsy way of apologizing. But it was not like that.

—It's okay, Apollo. No hard feelings.

—Have I done something to make you upset with me all the time?

The question was suspended, and your hands began to sweat.

— What are you talking about? — You were thankful that you still turned your back on him. Any trace of drowsiness was left behind.

— I know I'm clumsy and very new to being mortal, but I've learned a lot. Partly thanks to you.—He paused and tapped your shoulder. You were a fool for him, so you turned around, coming face to face with him.

His blue eyes shone in the moonlight. He was funny, he looked beautiful underneath the opposite side of him.

Artemis might have gagged if she'd heard you say that.

His curls made like a second pillow for him, and you thought that was cute.

— Really? — Your voice barely came out in a thread.

Apollo nodded and gave you a sweet, slightly lazy smile. He pulled his hand out from under his blanket and caressed the frame of your face. The contact made you shudder, but you didn't move away.

You longed for his touch and be the reason for him to spit juice in others' faces.

You imitated his action. arms were crossed, while carefully caressed each other. Taking care of yourselves.

Apollo's heart warmed, and he felt a tug in his stomach.

Maybe you could have a chance, and that night had begun.

[chasedbyatlantic]

from the dining table, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — ellie brings dina home to you and joel for the first time. joel thinks it's too soon and tries his best to protect her, but it doesn't go as planned.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, gender neutral!reader, implied relationship, dom!joel, joel protecting reader and ellie :sob:, husband/wife bickering from reader and joel, dina hate (unfortunately), handsy joel, fluff/angst, swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: u guys, 100 notes on my first two fics?!?! i am literally sobbing thank u sm it means sm to me ily mwah mwah. i sincerely hope u enjoy this one because it was SO much fun to write. i'll upload a couple times throughout the week so stay tuned (follow to make sure u catch the uploads ;)). please like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

—

"Hurry up and wipe the dust off of it, they'll be over in five minutes!" You couldn't remember when you had a guest over last, a real guest. Well- sort of real, it was Ellie's new girlfriend visiting for the first time. Besides, you had never spoken to the girl face to face, only seen her in town or heard about her through stories from Ellie, so a guest it is.

Joel let out a small groan as he almost threw the fork out of his calloused hands. "For fuck sakes, darlin'. If I didn't love ya' so much I'd fuckin' punt this thing over fence." He sort of- dropped the fork on the table, not bothering to place it identically to the others.

You couldn't help but let a chuckle escape your lips. Before you said anything, you gave him a peck on the lips, "You know I appreciate your help. It's just- they have to be around an inch apa-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you were interrupted. "I'm going inside."

From the angered tones used toward you, you could tell Joel was pushed off the edge from this comment you had made. Not to worry though, he never stayed mad with you for longer than about thirty seconds, and he took the pieces of uncooked meat with him which was a total plus. Unfortunately, you weren't blessed with the cooking gene (despite your parents owning and operating their own restaurant before the world ended). If Joel wasn't around, you would've starved to death.

Pushing past the silly argument the two of you just had, you fixed up the dining table with the correct cutlery in the correct places, the nice middle piece you had traded for in the town's trade centre now sitting on the table, and some fancy napkins tucked under the cutlery, ones that had beautiful flowers decorating the edges.

It definitely took Ellie and Dina longer than five minutes to show up. You had time to (quickly) get changed into a nice shirt and your favourite pair of jeans. You also had a spare second to brush through your hair and fix it the way you like. Once you heard the door unlock from up in your room, you scurried to get up and run down. You had two different shirts in your hands, picking one for Joel to wear. You had ended up laying out a nice maroon one over your shared bed before booking it to the staircase.

"Hey- hi!" You came to a halting stop, sounding out of breath (you were, to be completely honest) in front of the two girls. "You must be Dina, it's so nice to meet you. Ellie has told me so much about you." You didn't really think about what you were saying, you were too caught up in the moment, and on making a good impression, that it slipped your mind.

You immediately pulled the girl in for a hug, not giving her anytime to reply. She didn't pull back, in fact, she wrapped her arms back around you. "I am, yeah- your house is gorgeous. Thank you for the invite for dinner." You let go as Dina said this, and you matched her smile. Ellie had her hands pocketed, a small smile threatening to peak through her neutral expression.

Soon after, you could hear the familiar voice call from the kitchen. "Food's ready, darlin'!" Joel definitely didn't know the two girls were over, because if he knew, he wouldn't use any of his nick names for you in front of them. The two girls looked at each other, breaking out into quiet laughter. You couldn't help but grin to yourself, watching the two girls. You couldn't remember when Ellie was this happy.

"Alright, show her to the backyard, Ellie. Everything's already set up'n everythin'." Ellie placed her hand on the small of Dina's back as she guided her out to the patio, through the living room (avoiding the kitchen, where Joel was). You made your way to the kitchen, looking at Joel with his absolute ridiculous apron on. Everytime Joel cooked, you forced him to wear this (ignoring the fact he despised it).

"My handsome man," you greeted him, moving over to hug him from behind. "I met Dina, she seems sweet." He only hummed in response, as if he couldn't care any less. Deep down inside, Joel was upset. Upset that his little girl, the little girl he protected for years, was growing up. He would never let these feelings unravel though, despite it being obvious to you.

"You'll approve, I just know it." You mutter, barely loud enough for him to year. With a small sigh, he nods. "I know I will, just don't want some corrupt girl messin' with Ellie's all." You tap Joel's stomach, giving a bit of a don't worry, it won't reassurance. "Alright," you let go from him, standing up, "I lay a shirt out for you, go up and change."

He turns around, a slight glance down as he was taller than you were. "After you do what the thing says, sure." The thing Joel was referring to was the apron, and it said "Kiss The Cook" in bold. You completely take this opportunity and smash your hungry lips into Joel's. You couldn't help it, he was so hot when he was like this. Your hands managed to sneak down the apron, making your way down south. Joel had to pull back from the kiss before things got too heated.

Your cheeks were bright red, which spoke for itself. You left the kitchen with no further words to Joel, as he already knew what you were thinking. You hoped and prayed Dina and Ellie hadn't seen this encounter through the windows into the kitchen, because it would not have made a good first impression from the both of you.

As you sat outside with the two girls, you were the one keeping conversation going. Ellie was the only one engaged in it, Dina was definitely more reserved and you didn't want to push anything- but you couldn't help it.

"I'm seriously telling you guys! We would line up for hours and hours to be able to get against the barrier at these concerts. I remember doing it with my friends for Destiny's Ch-" You were abruptly cut off by Ellie, when she took notice of Joel coming through the patio doors. "Jesus Christ, finally! I'm starving, old man." If Dina wasn't visiting, you would scold Ellie like she was a little girl for interrupting you so rudely, but you didn't want to embarrass her in front of her girl.

Joel had placed the food down in the middle of the table, and finally took the seat next to you. He was in fact not wearing the maroon shirt you laid out for him, but instead one of his more casual and less dressy shirts. You tsked silently to yourself, he would definitely hear about this from you later.

"Wow, Mr. Miller- the food looks delicious, thank you so much!" Dina beamed. All three of you (you, Joel, and Ellie) stared at Dina. She looked around after realizing this, looking absolutely mortified. "Mr. Miller?" was echoed between the four of you, Joel and Ellie in sync expressing this. You let out a small and quick laugh, as Dina flushes bright red.

"Joel'll do, Dina." He said, sounding completely unphased. Dina had made small eye contact with Ellie as she was just laughing her ass off, it looked as if tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. "Holy fucking shit! Mr. Miller- Joel I'm crying." It was true, you could hear it in Ellie's voice.

"Alright now, stop embarrassing her Ellie." You shoot her a 'shut the fuck up' look, as if she suddenly became oblivious to her girlfriend. "Sorry 'bout this, Dina. You're going to have to get used to this." You shoot the girl a smile, and she breaks her sad look with a small smile reflecting yours.

After the absolute ridiculous laughing fit from Ellie, the table grew somewhat silent as everyone had fixed themselves portions for their dinner. The food was absolutely amazing, as per usual - thanks to Joel's cooking. There was a side of roasted potatoes and a nicely tossed salad. Usually the two of you never ate like this, it was always some sort of canned food from twenty years ago- but who were you to complain about this amazing meal you man had prepared?

"You know," Ellie began, stuffing her face with potatoes as if she hadn't eaten for weeks, "I think comfortable silence is so overrated." Dina shot her a look, almost complaining on why she had broken the comfortable silence by that comment. "I agree." Joel stated, as he leaned back in the patio seat. He laid one of his hands to rest on your thigh (under the table, in secret) and the other by his side. "What are your, how do I say this, intentions- with her?" Joel eyed Dina.

Jesus Christ, if this couldn't have gone more in the shit heap. You swatted the man beside you in the side, basically asking him what the fuck that was for. He ignored you, and kept his eyes trained on Dina. "Jesus fuck Joel!" Ellie raises her voice at him, he furrowed his eyebrows. Poor Dina looked like she was going to cry. You didn't blame her, if a man like Joel had asked you what your intentions were with someone, you would already be in tears.

Dina's plate was almost empty, so you used this to your advantage. "Dina, honey, mind helping me with something in the kitchen?" Without her giving you a response, you stand up (Joel's hand visibly falling off of your thigh) and grab Dina's hand, bringing her with you inside.

Once the door was completely shut, and the bickering between your man and your child grew louder, you sighed. "I am so, so sorry. He's just- Joel's just Joel." You had let go of Dina's hand, leaning against the kitchen island as she stood in front of you.

"It's no worries- I swear. My sister would be just like him too. Well, she was when she met Ellie." Dina hadn't sounded as horrified anymore, maybe because Joel wasn't in the room. "He's just looking out for her." The girl stated, and you nodded. You were in total agreement with Dina, Joel didn't want anyone hurting Ellie so he was extra cautious.

"He'll warm up to you, don't worry. Next time he'll welcome ya' with open arms, I promise." You reached out and patted her shoulder. "You know what, I think you should come over again next week. I found this cool vintage make-your-own-pizza thing that we could all do as- what, family bonding? Whatever they call it, you know what I mean." Dina laughed at this, she absolutely loved the idea.

As peace and a better relationship was being obtained inside of the house, Joel and Ellie were arguing outside, for the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear. It had just been so back and forth, until Joel put his foot down.

"Fuckin' enough!" He boomed at her, and she actually shut up for once in her life. "All I do is fuckin' care for ya'. I don't want ya' hurt, alright? Is it so hard for ya' t'understand?" Joel's voice was breaking, and Ellie heard it.

"Okay- fuck, fine. I know you are Joel, I just hate being wrong." Ellie tried to joke around with him, but he was not having any of it. "Sorry." She muttered, after taking note of this.

Now, Joel had felt bad for snapping at her - for snapping at Dina. The girl didn't do anything wrong, he was just having a rough day seeing his girl all grown up. With a long sigh, Joel spoke up. "Don't apologize kid, I should be the one apologizin'."

He was doing everything to avoid eye contact with Ellie. He had muttered something under his breath that Ellie didn't catch. "I didn't hear you, say it again." Joel finally met her eyes, inhaling. "I said, don't go around doin' anythin' I would do. Be careful with this girlfriend've yours." This immediately sent a smile shooting through Ellie's face. "Oh Joel, you big fucking softie."

"And," He became serious for a second, "Don't do anything- bad with her under this roof. I'on wanna hear any of it while I'm try'n sleep." Joel fell silent, and Ellie's mouth fell agap.

"You know, you are one to talk. I can hear when you and-" There was a cutoff in Ellie's sentence from both you and Dina remerging from the kitchen. You two were laughing quietly to each other, "Anything we miss?"

Dina had just left, and Ellie went with her to walk her home. You were proud of Ellie, for finding someone to love and being such a kind person to her. You were proud of Joel, for allowing Ellie to live her own life, as much as he wanted to always protect her.

"She's a nice girl." You stated, as you and Joel were sitting on your sofa together. Your head was rested on his chest, and you were playing with the ends of his flannel. Joel only hummed in response. You gently pulled on the fabric, "She is, Joel."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He managed to let escape his lips, trying his hardest not to sound mad at you. He wasn't mad at you, or Ellie, or Dina, he was mad at the fact that growing up was happening so quickly.

"Anyway," You began, "You're going to have to love her as your own. I've invited her for dinner next week again, and I'll probably invite her over again for the week after next." You can only smile to yourself, as Joel rubs his index finger up and down over the exposed skin on your waist.

"If Ellie wants me to love her, if you want me to love her, I will. It'll take time, but it'll happen." You feel the weight of Joel's head now balanced on top of yours. He would do anything in the entire world and more to make the two most important people in his life happy; Even if that meant letting someone else into his small circle of people he trusted.

"Joel." You hum, but there is no response. This doesn't stop you, "She'll always be your girl, Ellie. She'll always need you- and I will to. We're more appreciative of you then you think." After a minute of silence after you had said this to the man right next to you, you had deemed Joel had drifted off to sleep. Good, you thought to yourself, he didn't need to hear you being vulnerable for the millionth time again.

But, what you said was true. Joel opened up to Dina with the weeks to come - he trusted her, he loved her like she was his own. Not only did this make Ellie fucking ecstatic, but it made you over the moon. Joel would do anything for the people he loved, even if that meant opening himself up to strangers.

—

from the dining table, harry styles

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Until the Final Bullet Pt. 1(Call of Duty)

Pairing: Price x Reader

Word Count: 2020

Warnings: Violence, angst, military men

A/N: Imagine getting stuck in the UK during the apocalypse that would suck. Also read the other parts of the series here!

Everyone knew it was coming. Years and years of nonstop war would surely lead to dire outcomes. And that outcome was the apocalypse. What people didn’t know was that the cause was a zombie outbreak. It had to be a zombie outbreak. 

You always told yourself if this ever happened, you would swan dive straight off the roof of a building. Who wants to live a life surrounded by rotting flesh monsters? Not you. It was enough that the apocalypse had broken out while you were on vacation, but the fact that it was zombies made matters worse. Much worse. 

You crouched in the back of an abandoned supermarket. It had taken you days to make your way over here without attracting any attention. Everything was a complete mess. Fires, overturned vehicles, houses ransacked. It was hard to find supplies and it’s only been two months since the outbreak. You took a can of beans and stabbed into the lid with your knife. It made a hissing noise and juice bubbles from the hole. 

Gross. 

Back in the good ole USA, you would’ve been in luck. Every food had much more preservatives than anywhere else. You could’ve had your fill to eat. Yet, you were now eating sad British food. Beans. Not even the good baked beans, with little bacon pieces. Cold, wet, and flavorless beans. You used your knife as a spoon and shoveled them into your mouth. At least it was better than nothing. 

You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take. You missed having junk food for dinner, you missed being able to walk around with the threat of being bit, and you missed fresh. Fuck, you really missed it. Everything stinks literally. As you ate, you thought of what your plan was. Killing yourself? Raiding all the stores you can, gathering supplies, giving them to a group of people, and then killing yourself? No. If things were better and you had a lover, you could've been all poetic and turned with them. Instead, you were lonely.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard a groaning noise. And then several others. The thought of going out by being eaten by a group of zombies was the least appealing way to die. You made your way silently through the supermarket towards the toy section. You grabbed the loudest looking toy you could before heading outside. There was a small horde of zombies just outside. You counted them, for a total of four. You could have easily killed them, but you didn’t want their rotting guts and blood all over you..

You silently opened the door and slid out. With a quick hand, you turned on the toy that’s glaringly loud. You threw the toy as far as possible. The rotting creatures immediately were on high alert and slowly trudged towards the noise. You slowly walked backwards, keeping an eye on them in case they decided to turn around. After going a sizable distance, you turned to escape. Hands grabbed your shoulders.

“Hey there, lass.”

Your immediate reaction was to clock the stranger right in the face. But he was obviously way stronger than you. He grabbed your fist and squeezed it tightly. Your eyes narrowed. The man was tall, with a faux hawk. He had a goofy smile that was a start contrast to his tactical gear that he wore. There was a patch on his vest, Military.

“Let me go.”

“Now, now.” He clicked his tongue, releasing your fist. “I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s what everyone says.” You pushed past him. “Now if you excuse me, I’d like to be away from the horde of zombies before the toy shuts off.”

You started to walk away. He followed, Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? You try to walk fast to keep your distance, but it was no use. He had on that same goofy smile.

You sighed. “Why are you still following me?”

“Because that was a good trick you used. Using toys to lure the zombies away. How did you come up with it?”

“I didn't. I saw it in an anime.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you following me?”

The man grinned, the lilt of his accent heavy. “I’m not. I just happen to be going in the same place.”

You got even more suspicious. You had to run into your fair share of people that seemed friendly, but would end up robbing you blind. Of course, you’ve seen enough zombie movies and played enough games to know better. Your hand rested on your knife holster. You gripped the handle, ready to strike.

“My name is Soap, by the way.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow and he nodded. You scoffed. “Ironice. You smell like ass.”

“Not worse than the zombies though, right?”

“No comment. Now stay away.”

You kept walking. The man, Soap, didn’t listen to you. You didn’t know where you were going, exactly, but you knew you didn't want it to be around this man. So you kept walking through the empty streets, hoping that he took the hint and left. But he didn’t. He also wouldn’t stop yapping about some random shit that you had no interest in. Ten minutes later, your knife was pressed against his neck.

“Stop following me or I’ll kill you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” A deeper, much darker voice said from behind you. You could feel the tip of a gun barrel now pressed against the back of your head. You closed your eyes and slowly lowered the knife. You turned to see the man. This guy was even bigger. The clothes he wore were similar to that of Soap’s. He wore a skull mask, making him even more intimidating than the other guy. There was no way you could take them. In a fight, of course.

“Using a gun? Really?”

The skull face shrugged. “I don’t see any zombies around here.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. Then they’re eaten.”

Soap laughed. “You’re a pessimistic one, aren't you?”

I just rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I won’t cause trouble , so let me leave.”

“No can do, sweetheart.” Skull face replied. He placed the gun back in its holster. “You shouldn’t be traveling around.”

“Ghost is right.” Soap said, crossing his arms.

Great. Two big and buff guys won’t let you leave. This is just peachy. You hated being a group, but you hated military men even more. They were nothing but disgusting and violent assholes that are no longer barred by the law. Bad news. But what was pissing you off even more was the fact that they assumed you couldn’t take care of yourself. Which you totally could.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Ghost eyed you. “With as frail as you look?”

“I hate British food.”

“Can you even use anything other than a knife?”

“I can use a bow or crossbow.”

“No guns?” Soap asked.

You shook your head. “Guns are too loud. Plus it’s hard to find bullets.”

“Then come with us. We’ll help.” Ghost said. “We have a whole entire base filled with food,water, and weapons.”

“No. I don’t trust the military.”

“Special forces, lass. We’re special forces.”

“Doesn’t make a difference. Goodbye.”

They didn’t try to stop you. Instead, they followed. If you were stronger, you would have killed them on the spot. But alas, you were just a normal citizen. Kind of. Your eyes scanned the terrain as you walked. There were always at least one or two zombies around. And as if on cue,  one appeared hobbling down the street.

“I got it.” Soap said, taking out his gun.

“Don’t-“

It was too late. Soap shot the zombie straight in the head. The sound was loud and rang out in the empty streets. That’s when the rest of the horde showed up. There must have been ten of them, if not more. You facepalmed, angrily turning to face the two military men.

“Are you guys idiots?”

“Watch it.” Ghost growled. “This isn’t the time to insult us.”

Soap frowned. “It seemed clear enough.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s how it always is. If there’s one zombie, always assume here’s more. I thought the special forces were supposed to be smart.”

Instead of listening to what they have to say, you quickly ran ahead, looking for cover. There was a large walled area ahead. The walls were made of makeshift metal haphazardly welded together. In front of those walls were bushed that you promptly hid yourself in. You stayed completely still as the horde made their way to the noise. This wasn't going to be your problem to deal with. As soon as the horde descended on the two military idiots, you'll make your escape. 

A loud boom shook your body. You clamped your hands over your ears and your eyes squeezed shut. Before you could even get your bearings, the noise happened again. More gunshots joined in. It was official. You probably were going to die here because of the trigger happy men around you. You tried to make yourself as small as possible and wait for a moment of silence. If that would ever come.

"Kid."

You kept your hands over your ears, even as the cacophonous shooting stopped. A hand clamped down on your shoulder. The rancid scent of rotting flesh didn't immediately hit your nose, so you knew that this was a human. You slowly opened your eyes and lowered your hands. As you stood up, you saw that Ghost, Soap, and two strangers were staring at you. You cleared your throat awkwardly.

"So… y'all always attract zombies like this?"

Ghost scoffed. "Thanks for running away. Real tough, huh?"

"Okay," You crossed your arms. "It's not my fault you decided to be an idiot and use a gun to kill a zombie."

"Enough." The man with the bucket hat and mustache stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Ghost. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

His eyes were kind and soft as they traveled over your face. His hands were on your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. A sense of comfort washed over you. It had been a while since you felt this way. You nodded silently.

He gave you a smile. "Good, good. I'm Captain John Price. You can call me Price."

Your nose scrunched and that comfort morphed into disdain. "And I'm making my leave."

"Aww, c'mon!" Soap whined your name. His lips formed a pout. "We just saved you from a horde of zombies!"

"That you guys attracted! I'm not staying with a bunch of trigger happy military freaks."

"Price…" Ghost warned, his eyes boring into yours. "Do something."

Price waved his hand to calm Ghost down. He then gave you another smile, his eyes crinkling. "Stay with us just for the night, sweetheart. You can have a shower and some food. Then after you're rested, you can make your decision."

You hesitated. You had enough food and you knew how to survive a night out here. But a shower? You looked at the group of men. Maybe while they were asleep you could snag some stuff for yourself and then leave without them ever knowing. You nodded once. Price's smile went to a full on grin filled with sunshine. 

"Great. Come this way."

The makeshift wall had a gated entrance just a couple of meters away. Your eyes widened as the group led you into their base. And it was a big base. Trucks, a tank, several buildings, and a long row of tents were spread out before you. People milled about. From soldiers to families, it looked like a whole town. A sinking feeling filled your stomach. You never did well around big groups around this. It always ended up badly. 

Your steps slowed down. "Uh… I-I think I changed my mind."

Soap linked his arm around yours. "Don't be scared, lass. We don't bite."

"That's not-"

"You're staying here and that's final." Ghost grumbled, coming up on your other side. They had blocked you in. 

"I'm so going to regret this."

[ragzonacamrencruise]

What does Azula cook for Katara for their first dinner date? Do things go as planned?

my personal head canon is . . .

okay okay so hear meowt-

Azula, Toph, Sokka and Ty Lee get along splendidly like chums. Although Azula's reluctant, she can't help but follow around in their little group wreaking havoc wherever they go.

And because she's so adamant on being mean (but she actually is not, mind you), the other three in that little group like to play pranks on her to get back at her.

It couldn't have come to haunt her at a worser time than exactly when she's supposed to be cooking Katara dinner for their first dinner date.

Azula doesn't know, of course, when she proudly pours stewed sea prunes into Katara's bowl as they are seated at the private table next to the royal dining hall, garnishing it with a little fire flakes to innovate a culmination of two cultures, that she's actually tapping down generous amounts of chilli pepper used for brain stimulation.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Katara asks doubtfully as she peeps into the bowl with suspicion.

Azula crosses her arms over her chest. "Of course. The Royal Fire Academy for Girls taught me cooking during survival training and I make the best elephant-rat soup in the whole nation!" Her eyes shine with a tint of vile pride.

Katara looks at her worried. "But this isn't elephant-rat . . ."

"Oh, just eat the damn food I made for you!"

"Okay, okay!" Katara picks up her spoon, filling it with stew, before placing it inside her mouth.

Her eyes widen immediately, smoke almost exiting out of her ears. She gulps down the spoonful and the burn travels all the way to her butthole.

It feels like a volcano just threw up inside her.

"Oh my god!" She exclaims, eye brimming with unshed tears.

"What?" Azula looks at her with so much longing and expectation in her eyes that Katara feels stupid to even break the horrible news to her. "What is it?! Is it that good?!"

Azula pulls the bowl towards herself.

"No-" Katara chokes out, trying to reach the bowl; trying to prevent another tragedy, but the spoon is already in Azula's mouth and the stew is already getting sprayed to the floor from Azula's mouth in a quick shower.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Azula wipes her lips discordantly, letting the spoon fall from her grip as she notices the tiny container sitting on the table. She grabs it swiftly and empties some of it's contents to her palm and BAM!

It's that thought enducing, extremely hot, chilli pepper that she swore she won't try out again, no matter what monster forced her to.

And here's her date, trying to get some water in her mouth in a way that lets her heal her own burning tongue.

Azula scowls. She knows she put fire flakes in that container. She made sure to check literally today morning. She double-checked it, in fact. Unless somehow . . .

Unless . . .

Azula's eyes widen with unfathomable rage. "SOKKA YOU FILTHY PEASANT!!!" She yells before pushing her chair back, letting it fall down in a crash as she storms out to the dining hall, smoke coming out of her nostrils.

Katara can still hear Azula yelling, "SHOW YOURSELF AT ONCE YOU IMBECILE!!!" in the hallway as she giggles to herself, her mouth and palete completely neutral and soothing again from her healing water.

She picks up the other bowl placed for Azula, fills it only with stew, and takes a hesistant sip. Her eyes widen again but this time because of the exquisite taste rather than a volcanic eruption.

Azula wasn't lying when she said she's a great chef.

She tries not to moan out loud at the flavours filling her mouth that are normally missing back in her village. Azula's made sure she added spices that aren't inherently hot to the stew from the fire nation cuisine keeping the waterbender's low spice tolerance in mind, and it's unique in a way she's never experienced before. The firebender's put in such meticulous effort into the dish that Katara can't help but think about kissing her flush on the mouth when she next catches sight of her. She gulps the stew down, directly from the bowl before helping herself with another bowlful.

...

It's when she goes to visit Azula that night, that she finds two figures walking out, rubbing their hands and neck, groaning in pain. She knows exactly who they are just from the silhouette.

When light finally falls on them, she notices that her brother's straightout missing his ponytail and Toph's got a black-eye and a broken nose. They stop in front of her.

"I don't even wanna know." She says, raising her hands, before walking past them to Azula's chambers.

***

this prompt came out more chaotic than i expected it to be ngl- 💀

[wosowrites]

Sick for You (Vivianne Miedema x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️throwing up⚠️

a/n: very short fic but it’s based off this request here

prompt: in which reader is sick and viv takes care of her.

There was literally nothing worse than being sick. You hated it. You hated the sweat that made your hair stick to your face, and the stuffy nose that had you breathing loudly and blowing your nose over and over even though you knew there was nothing to be done. You despised the sore throat and the pain of swallowing as well as the repulse you had towards food. But man, there was nothing worse than throwing up. Nothing worse than the taste, the movement of it all, the smell and the energy it took out of you. And when you woke up Monday morning at the crack of dawn feeling like everything bad in the world had been transferred into your body, you knew exactly what the next couple of days were gonna feel like. Partly because you had a radar for this stuff and partly because the taste of vomit was slowly filling your mouth. 

You jumped out of bed, throwing the covers off of you and rushing to the washroom connected to your shared bedroom with Viv. You barely reached the toilet, for once thankful for Vivianne's bad habit of never closing the seat. And then you threw up. It made you want to cry. You hated it. Not only the actual motion of throwing up but the helplessness that came with it. 

You parents weren’t exactly… bad they were just absent. And when you used to get sick as a kid, they would get mad. You vividly remembered a time where you accidentally threw up on the floor and got yelled at. 

And the fact that you and Vivianne had only been dating for 3 months made it all more scary. What if she was repulsed by you? What if she left? But come now, it was Viv after all. 

The dutchie got up the second she heard the sounds of vomiting. She was on her feet and in the bathroom as quickly as humanly possible. “Y/n! Oh my god,” she said, her hair a mess, her eyes wide awake for someone who had been in a deep sleep seconds before. “I’m sorry,” you croaked before throwing up in the bowl again. Viv was quick to catch your loose hair and hold it out of the way, one hand on your hair, the other one slipped under your shirt and rubbing your back soothingly. “Do not apologize. There is nothing to be sorry for baby. You’re sick and I’m here,” she said kindly. You stopped the retching a few minutes after, leaning against the bathroom wall and looking at her with puppy eyes. “I’ll call in sick for both of us, let me get my phone,” she said, leaving the room to get her phone but not before kissing your forehead lovingly. 

You leaned your head back on the wall, breathing out shakily but relieved Viv wasn't mad.

Your girlfriend walked back in a couple minutes later. “Let’s go back to bed,” she said softly. But before you could stand up, she put her arms under your legs and picked you right off the ground. “Viv!” you said, letting out a small laugh of surprise. She had made the bed, knowing how much you liked a made bed, and so she let you down on the covers before pulling them out from under you and placing them over you. “I don’t know what to do. I always cook for people when they feel sick but whatever I make you’ll throw right back up,” she said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’ll tell you what you can do, you can lie back down in bed with me, turn on the TV and put on a movie,” you said to her, patting the spot beside you. She smiled at you widely before basically throwing herself on to the bed like a child. “Ah! Do not do that, you'll make me throw up again!” you groaned. “Right, sorry,” Vivianne said quickly.

She lied her head on your chest as if you did, your nose would get even more plugged, and as she laid there, she trailed kisses along your collarbones, distracting you from the movie. "Aren’t you scared of getting sick?" you said to her, passing your fingers through her loose hair. "Mhm, well if i’m sick then you’ll take care of me, and that doesn’t sound half bad."

What was half bad was when you woke up from your nap halfway through the second Hunger Games movie with the worse nausea yet. You sat up quickly and tried to get out of bed but the second you were on your feet you threw up.

Never had you felt more helpless. Puke on the floor and on your legs, you wanted to die. Vivianne wasn’t in the room, having probably retreated to the kitchen to make herself food. So, you hurried to the washroom, coughed up a bit more vomit in the sink and then grabbed as much TP as you could at once. But by the time you were back in the bedroom, Vivianne had opened the door and walked into the bedroom. "Oh baby," she said gently, walking up to you and trying to grab the TP. "Stop it. Stop please don’t pity me just le me clean it up," you pleaded with her, pulling away from her.

"Hey, you don’t have to do this yourself. It’s okay. Your sick, you didn’t ask to be sick but i’m asking you to let me help you. I know… you’re used to doing things yourself and being independent but right now you’re going to please go into the washroom and undress as i clean this up and then you’re gonna shower to get that-" she gestured to the vomit on you, "-off of you,"

You didn’t notice your eyes tearing up and when you opened your mouth your girlfriend cut you off again. "And do not dare apologize again," she said.

You closed your mouth swiftly.

However you did as she said. You gave her the TP and then walked into the washroom. You opened the shower, setting the temperature to cold like you liked it. You then pulled off your big baggy tee shirts and your adidas shorts followed by your underwear.

You stepped into the glass shower, letting your head fall backwards to appreciate the coldness of the water falling down your body. You made quick work of shampooing your hair and at the conditioning stage, Vivianne walked in. She headed to the sink and washed her hands, not looking at herself in the mirror, looking at you instead.

You smiled at her and she then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, watching you. "Even when you’re sick you look beautiful," she said to you, tracing your body with her eyes before laying her gaze on your sunken eyes. "Sure," you laughed over the sound of the water, scrubbing your body clean. "I mean it, y/n. You’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen," she repeated. You closed the water and then stepped out of the shower, not caring about the water dripping all over the floor. "Can I kiss you?" you asked her, standing in front of her. "You can always kiss me," she said gently, rubbing her hands on your hip bone. "Yeah but i’m sick," you said, putting your hands on the side of her face. "Just kiss me," she said.

You leaned down, connecting your lips together and closing your eyes, thankful for her.

[wildemaven]

Duality Of A Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader / AU

WC: 1379

Warnings: T; Mentions of food; that’s all.

A/N: I literally woke up this morning and threw this idea at @heythere-mel and @kteague and couldn’t get it outta my head. I’m calling this AU because of the nature of the plot, but there’s canon sprinkled through it still— I really tried to stay true to his character as much as possible. I don’t want to reveal to much and spoil everything. Not beta’d and mistakes are my own doing.

Masterlist / Part 2 / Part 3

You wake long before his blaring alarm. The fan’s oscillating buzz streaming through the dimly lit room.

You turn to see he is in fact still in his sleepy state. You leave him be, a few more hours will do him good— the long hours at his latest job site really doing a number on his tired body.

You take caution as you slip from the bed. Slow movements as your feet hit the cold floor, a jolt to your waking senses.

You swipe the nearest shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. A quick once over before you’re pulling it over your naked form— his shirts are always comfier.

The slow pull from your dresser drawer, it’s usual creaking undetectable as you sift through its contents finding your favorite biker shorts.

One last look at your boyfriend, his handsome face cradle by his lumpy pillow that he refuses to replace. His dark curls messy, suitable to his laid back nature.

He looks the most relaxed when he sleeps.

You make your way to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The old machine, another item Joel refuses to replace, takes nearly twice as long as it should to produce the amber liquid, thankfully your jumpstart on the day will get it made before Joel has made it downstairs.

Breakfast will be a quick task this morning, fried eggs and bacon are a regular staple when Sarah is gone for the weekend at a friends house.

Sarah is Joel’s daughter, but you love her as if she were your own. You and Joel got together a few years back and he was hesitant in introducing you to her, rightfully so. You told him to take his time and you’d be happy to meet her when he was ready. It took all of 6 months for that meeting and you had instantly clicked with her bubbly personality.

The low hum of the stereo drifts through the kitchen. The well-done bacon placed onto a paper towel covered plate, draining off the excess grease. The eggs producing their sizzling pops, the edges crisp and yolks just barely done— Joel’s favorite.

Two broad arms find their way around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck— you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Joel! You fuckin’ scared the shit outta me!” Your elbow sending a slight jab into his stomach.

“Ow!” His arms tighten up, pulling you back into him. “Mornin’ Babe.” His voice still raspy and low. A quick kiss to your temple before he starts to move about the space.

“Breakfast is done. Coffee should be ready— we really need to get a new machine” You mention as you set the plates of food down on the kitchen table.

“Nothin’ wrong with it. It’s still makin’ coffee. Ain’t broke, no need to go replacin’ it.” Pulling two cups from the cupboard and pouring you each a cup before making his way to the table to join you.

Your eyes roll in response. The man has a weird fixation with keeping worn out dilapidated items— his other charming qualities are what won you over.

“What are your plans for the day? Sarah should be back by late afternoon. Thought we could go get burgers and ice cream?”

He nods, as he continues to chew, fork preparing his next bite. “Yeah that sounds fine. Just gotta go grab some tools from Tommy. Mrs. Adler mentioned needin’ some help fixin’ a few things. Figured I could go after a shower. Should be done in ‘bout an hour or two.” He looks to you to make sure you’re okay with it.

You lean back in your chair, one leg perched up on the edge, your coffee cup on your knee. “Yeah that will work. I’ll give you that Tupperware container to take back over.” You take a slow sip from the steaming cup. “I swear I could eat myself sick off of her cookies. Those things are dangerous, but delicious.”

His dimple peaks through his grown out beard as he smiles at your statement. Gulping down the rest of his coffee, he places his empty cup on top of his egg yolk covered plate. “Thanks for breakfast babe! Delicious as always.” He says, wiping his greased cover fingers on his sleep pants.

“You’re welcome.”

The dishes clinking together as he sets them into the sink, then moving back towards where you’re still sitting at the table. Quick exchange of “I love you’s” and a sweet exchange of kisses before he retreats to take a shower.

Anticipating Sarah’s arrival in the next few hours, you make work to clean up the kitchen and get a few house chores done— remembering the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of your bed.

It takes you no time to whip through each task before you find yourself relaxing comfortably on the couch. Flipping through the home improvement magazine you’d picked up while grocery shopping the other day.

The house didn’t need much improvement. To an outsider it would seem in perfect order. But Joel being the handy man he is, you seemed to find ways to spruce up areas that needed the help. Just last year he replaced the backsplash to something a little more up to date, less drab and 80’s.

The ringing of the door bell catches your attention. Neither you or Joel were expecting visitors, and Sarah knows well enough to let herself in.

You fold the corner of the page you were on, setting the magazine on the coffee table before getting up to answer the door.

When you open it you’re met with a women you’ve never seen before. She’s beautiful, must be in her early 30’s if you were to guess. She’s looking around outside before she realizes you’ve opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?” You ask.

“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Kelli.” Her hand extended out to yours, you politely shake it hoping she’s going to grant you with a reason for stopping by. “I’m hoping you can help me out. I’m looking for someone and from what I’ve been told, he lives here.”

You’re not quite sure where she’s going with this. You’ve never seen this Kelli woman in you life and never once have you heard Joel mention her either. She must have to wrong house, and you’ll gladly point her in the right direction once she gives you this man’s name.

“Um, okay. Who is it that you think lives here?” You question her as nicely as you can.

She begins to dig into her purse, pulling out a worn picture. She looks it over briefly before turning and holding it up to you. “Have you seen this man?”

You were ready to say no you hadn’t. But the truth was you had. The man in the photo was upstairs at this very moment showering in your home. It was Joel staring back at you, just a younger version of him.

Your mind reeling as you try to figure out why Kelli is at your front door looking for Joel. She clearly knows him and sounds like she went through a lot of trouble to find him.

She explains straight away why she’s looking for him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the photo in your hands. Her explanation making zero sense to you. You get her number and tell her you will give her a call tomorrow, you need to still talk to Joel about it all.

The sound of the water shutting off signals Joel’s finished his shower, meaning he’ll be bounding down the stairs momentarily.

You sit back down on the couch, your fingers tracing over the photo. The sound of his boots hitting the steps break you from your trance.

“Hey, heard the door bell. Who was it?” He says as he enters the living room. He falls into his signature pose, hip cocked out and hands resting at his waist.

You stand, eyes still locked on the photo.

“Babe? Who was— What’s that ya got there?”

“Joel— Who’s Kelli?” His face drops instantly.

“Who’s Kelli and why did she say your name is actually Francisco Morales and that she’s your wife?” You spill as you hold the photo out for him to see.

“Fuck—“ Is all he manages to get out.

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