#your life is falling apart. I need a tag for my life is crumbling. I am the only one who can step up and fix this. I am going to mess thisup

[dumbification]

PLEASE, GIRL, YOU'RE MY LOVE BELT ft. sunday

( synopsis ) you don’t love him anymore, and he knows that himself. but whatever he could do to make you stay, he’d do it, as he needs you so much–needs you like oxygen. he might just lock you up in a pretty cage, pretty enough to match your face, to keep you safe with him forever. you're his love belt, and you know that yourself.

( tags ) sunday x fem!reader, slight angst, mild nsfw, bondage kink, voyeurism, he cums in his pants, fingering, possessiveness, one sided love, sunday is a weirdo, lots of angsty pining, sad make out session

( wc ) 2.1k

( toni's note ) i had sm fun writing this. but anyway.. wooooosh.. i'm on a roll, aren't i? enjoy this 5 month late gift I made for @nvuy :3 LOVE YA LOTS, MISAAAA !!

with the tall, stained glass window left open, a calm breeze enters your room. the soft moonlight brightens the place, and bounces off of your skin. this is it, you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, in your white nightdress, unsure of what you’re even doing. it’s weird, isn’t it? you were so infatuated with sunday, harping on about him to everyone you came across, anyone who even mentioned his name. but now, here you are–preparing yourself and your belongings, to flee this mansion of his, and the grasp of someone who was once your lover–at heart, at least. you’re startled at the sudden but gentle knock at your door. the very door creaks open to reveal a groggy sunday peeping through the cracks. fuck, he shouldn’t even be awake right now. “my dove, where have your things gone?” he croaks, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“ah. i’m just.. rearranging my room.” it hurts, it’s your first time lying to him, ever. you hope he was tired enough to have whatever you said slip his mind, but he saw right through you and your words–and you’re pretty sure you know that yourself. he frowns. “then, may you explain to me why all of your things have disappeared, even outside of your room?” he crosses his arms, and that’s when you both knew that you fucked up. maybe, just maybe, you could save yourself right now. “about that,” you kick away the suitcase which laid beside your feet. “i’d just like everything that belongs to me, y’know, inside my room–” “don’t lie to me, love.” he looks away to focus on the unholy amount of luggages and cases behind you. welp, as he takes a few steps towards you, your legs start to quiver in fear. the silence that follows pierces your ears, leaving you practically deaf.

and before you know it, he’s inches away from your face. “you know what i can do, right?” you hesitatingly nod your head, knowing what he’s capable of, and knowing that he can get anything out of you. “then why should i have to get it out of you, before you tell me yourself?” there’s genuine hurt in his eyes, and it hurts you even more. “i—i don’t know.” you choke out a pathetic response, throat already closing up and eyes swelling with tears threatening to fall down. “please.” he’s about to be on his knees. you made up your mind, and with a heavy heart, it was all or nothing. “sunday,” your voice falters. he focuses entirely on you now, wiping the tears building up at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t love you anymore.” his stare widens. “say that again, dear?” he sounds distraught, unable to believe what you said just now. your lips purse, unable to let those five words slip out again. “i don’t love you anymore, sunday.” his own throat closes up, speechless. he felt as though the world was caving in on him, his life crumbling apart. he never thought he’d hear that from you, little ol’ you, who loved him so dearly, and promised to do so until death. 

he chuckles a little, dryly, denying the bitter truth that just came out of your mouth. “you’re kidding. right?” his lips curl into a smile full of hope, hope in the fact that you’re lying to him again. but it pains him to know that you’re not lying, and it’s very much true, at the back of his mind, he could tell that you’ve fallen out of love lately. every romantic gesture or sign of affection he’d show every other while, would elicit nothing from you back. did he make you mad? or have you felt pity for his love for you this entire time? no, that couldn’t be. sunday can pull the truth out of anyone, but he’s never had to do it with you. you’re an honest person, and you both know that. it’s not like you to lie, so why would you? “right?” this time, his voice has a threatening tone to it, chilling you down to the bone. he cups your face to look you deep in the eye, looking for a yes, somewhere inside there.

“i’m not kidding.” you gently push him away, telling him for the nth time, that you really don’t love him at all anymore. “then what’s next?” sunday reaches out to hold your hand, now caressing it with his thumb. “i’m leaving in the morning, with everything else.” your eyes avert his gaze, which you’re sure now hold a grudge on you. but he’s not like that–to hold a grudge on someone who once loved him, right? “no,” he smiles, a breathy chuckle leaving through his teeth. “no, no, no, no..” sunday brings his hands to his head. you feel a rush of fear down your spine. “you’re not going anywhere. you should know this.” at that moment, a sudden feeling of drowsiness hit you. feeling like collapsing, the world around you spins, and in a state of total relaxation, you fall to the ground–but before you reach the floor, sunday catches you as you faint.

—-

after a while, you stir awake–and wake up to be inside a large, golden cage, adorned in jewels and gemstones. it’s magnificent–the moonlight shines on each singular gem, reflecting the colors onto your face. you try to feel your face, and around the cage–but your hands stay in place. you find yourself to be in a kneeling position and tightly tied up in rope–with your hands bonded together above your head–and ankles separated, tied to the bars of the cage you kneel in. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, even your waist is tied back to the cage. you struggle and panic in place, unable to slip the rope off. “it’s no use,” sunday mutters, walking towards your helpless figure. “even if you found a way to untie yourself, you wouldn’t budge an inch, anyway.” you grunt and whine, doing your best to even move a muscle, but to no avail. 

“let me go.” you pleaded on your knees, quite literally. but he denied each and every one of your empty promises, promises to stay. “i know what you’re thinking–again, don’t lie to me.” “get out of my mind.” you hiss, tears threatening to break and fall down your face. he can’t promise that, as you can’t promise to stay no longer anyway. “please. stay here with me.” he sounds mad, furious, even–but he treats you so gently–each time he touches your face or hand, he does it with such care, like you’re glass. it pains your heart, knowing the anger and sorrow he holds deep inside him, but he still handles you so carefully like you’re the most delicate of porcelain dolls.

his eyes flicker at your neck, covered in marks he believes he’s never left. an empty feeling fills his gut, he feels sick to his stomach–knowing that someone else has touched you. practically crawling to you, he proceeds to leave trails of gentle kisses along the crook of your neck. you silently plead for him to go on by craning your head to the side, giving sunday more access. “why..” his voice rasps, shaking uncontrollably. you let it go, and start to sob out of sympathy for the man. “i’m sorry.” “no you’re not.” but you know that he knows, that you’re telling the truth. you truly feel sorry for him, and you show it through your heavy tears, rolling down your cheeks. 

“don’t cry, my dove.” he says so softly, with no sign of anger this time. his thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears which stain your face, while he continues to leave small bruises and bites on your neck. “can you tell me why you don’t love me anymore?” “no.” even through knowing your mind and thoughts, he couldn’t find out why you would fall out of love, either. “do you even know?” his want to know about this was genuine. “..no.” you sniffle and hiccup.

“how do i make you love me again?” 

“i don’t know.”

 “can i..” his words trail off, but you know what he’s talking about. “please.” he unbuttons your nightdress, slipping it down to your hips. you can see it in his eyes that he’s disappointed. “how do you not love me,” your waist spasms as he traces circles right above your cunt. “when you’re this wet?” you couldn’t help but arch your back and whine as his other hand traced your spine, sending tingling sensations down it. he purposefully avoids your wet cunt, even your breasts, as he carefully feels around your body, barely brushing his fingers across your skin. it’s so sweet–it’s sweet how delicately he handles you, how he softly speaks to you, but it feels like torture–it felt torturous how forgiving his touch was, or how he was telling you your own thoughts, nitpicking at your own lies to him, to yourself. “c-can’t help it..” your breath shakes and falters as you weakly smile.

he unbuckles his pants to pull it down and push it aside, to reveal the very visible bulge in his underwear. “you wouldn’t mind?” he shifts his head to give you a pleading look. and as weird as it feels and looks, you let him. he groans, rubbing his palm against his clothed cock, circling his thumb at the tip. “i love you.” he repeats, on and on. you wish you could help him out, but all you could do was watch and grind your hips against the floor in desperation as he pleasures himself. this was also torturous. “c-close. i’m close.” in minutes, he cums in his boxers, shooting his load inside not you, but nothing, this time. his dick twitches and quivers, softening up.

“you don’t know how much i love you,” he brings his hand to handle the bars of the cage behind you, and his mouth to your ear. “and how much this hurts me.” he lets go of you, and for the first time in a while, you see a few tears roll out of his eyes. the swelling of your heart worsens at seeing him cry, the pounding reaching your throat. “do you believe me?” “i always have.” you sniffle. you know that he believes you deserve a more harsh punishment, but he could never bring himself to it–just the thought of that makes you want to cry even more, because you know he loves you far more than you love him.

“you deserve worse.”

“i know.” you weep.

with ease, sunday slips off his gloves in mere seconds, then lining his fingers up at your entrance, teasing your wet folds. your hips buck towards him, trying to get more friction in between your thighs–and he pushes them in. his fingers pump in and out, deep inside, buried inside your pussy. you moan and whine, still loving how good he makes you feel. “do you only love me for this?” “i–i don’t love you at all.” you cry. well, now you’re just lying to yourself. sunday brings himself closer to your face as he continues to pleasure you, seeing every part of your face twitch in satisfaction.

his eyes flutter down to your lips, and lightly pecks them–those small pecks turning into long, passionate kisses. with a furrowed brow from all the pleasure, you give in and kiss him back. your tongues tie and twist around each other, eliciting moans from one another. tears continue to drip down your face like a continuous babbling creek, dribbling down your cheeks, all the way to drop from your chin. he kept on thrusting his fingers up your cunt, until you came all over them. waves and jolts crash and strike through you as you ride out your orgasm on his digits. he pulls away, both his fingers and lips, to see how pretty the view was—and how beautiful the moonlight looked on your face. “you’re beautiful.” you look down, averting his eyes full of sorrow. “stop.” you might as well close your eyes shut—as he could just make you look up. but he could also just make you open your eyes, there’s no winning here.

you’re forced to look back up at him, chin pinched between his index and thumb. the prolonged eye contact was nerve-wracking. “i’ll let you go.” “what? no—i’ll stay.” sunday rushes in to embrace you, it was uncalled for. even after what you just did together, it seemed weird to you to be this close after everything you had told him. “i don’t think you mean that.” he’s persistent on this, whether you’re telling the truth or not, he’d ignore it. “i really do.” your words seem truthful, laced with falseness. still caught in his embrace, you nudge him away the best you can—but he won’t let go, he needs you so badly, needs you wrapping him up from head to toe.

“oh god, i love you.” you blurt out randomly. it was then when he let go. he almost collapses after hearing what he was longing for from you, even if it were fake. you pant and sigh in between kisses, unable to catch your breath. “you mean it?” “..yeah.” maybe he could ignore the truth behind your lies for now, and bask in the bliss of your false affection, if it means you’ll stay with him forever.

@ dumbification . do not plagiarize or modify my work.

[milo-is-rambling]

Me vs the urge to create a new tumblr tag every time I feel any emotion out of my regular loop

[rowarn]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

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It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all. 

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn. 

You were going to need a lot more alcohol. 

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust. 

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them. 

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man. 

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?” 

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you. 

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?” 

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that. 

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way. 

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat. 

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.” 

He chuckles, “You caught me.” 

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.” 

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?” 

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.” 

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?” 

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!” 

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up. 

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body. 

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom. 

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night. 

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point. 

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to. 

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent. 

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new. 

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere. 

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet. 

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips. 

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat. 

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you. 

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him. 

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now. 

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in. 

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth. 

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet. 

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his. 

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table. 

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy. 

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something. 

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from. 

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom. 

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man. 

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too. 

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless. 

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you. 

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly. 

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss. 

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter. 

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his. 

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often. 

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108. 

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved. 

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you. 

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings. 

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them. 

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes. 

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating. 

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming. 

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss. 

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze. 

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. 

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released. 

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him. 

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm. 

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips. 

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you. 

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch. 

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs. 

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit. 

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention. 

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in. 

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment. 

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.” 

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock. 

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger. 

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle.��

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.” 

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you. 

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water. 

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy. 

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob. 

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure. 

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut. 

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get. 

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare. 

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up. 

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.” 

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release. 

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside. 

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip. 

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper. 

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over. 

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit. 

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes. 

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.” 

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back. 

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases. 

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down. 

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face. 

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in. 

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time. 

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys. 

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it. 

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine. 

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you. 

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much. 

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. 

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm. 

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop. 

After a few, long seconds, he feels it. 

Fuck, does he feel it. 

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears. 

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you. 

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you. 

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt. 

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap. 

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body. 

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face. 

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him. 

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you. 

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again. 

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following. 

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip. 

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time. 

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you. 

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him. 

“Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions. 

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it. 

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit. 

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come. 

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort. 

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure. 

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest. 

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past. 

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt. 

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing. 

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles. 

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft. 

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight. 

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it. 

The sight is so fucking filthy. 

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. 

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up. 

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him. 

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response. 

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle. 

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch. 

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please. 

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt. 

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place. 

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is. 

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure. 

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it. 

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole. 

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently. 

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue. 

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again. 

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is. 

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again. 

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you. 

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper. 

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it. 

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you. 

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long. 

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit. 

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end. 

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing. 

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in. 

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself. 

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move. 

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him. 

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

[gyratingpresley]

I expect you to make me a daddy.

Warnings: Smut smut smut...

This is just a little something to keep you going until I publish the next chapter for you're mine. If you do want to be tagged in my future stories let me know. Have a good read babies.

Elvis had been busy with his shows in Vegas, and the colonel had been working him like a dog, but he finally managed to convince the devil to let him come home to Graceland for a while. Ever since he came home, you two had spent every day together. He has always been the possessive type, never wanted you to leave the house without him, unless he knew where you were 24/7. Recently, Elvis had been waking up to an empty bed, so he adopted a new tactic that was falling asleep on your lap, trapping you in bed. It was annoying, but you enjoyed being close to him. You practically had to beg him to let you up for the bathroom.

A few days ago, you had agreed to go out for a drive with the rest of the mafia to shop for clothes. You had been nagging Elvis since he finally said you could on one condition, you come and stay in Vegas when he goes back. So here you were the morning of the day, you were lying in bed, stuck. Reading pride and prejudice with a smile on your face.

The rough pages of the book rustled as you turned them, the spine cracking every time you opened and closed it. You were so deep into the book, you hardly realized the heavy footsteps leading to your door. "Y/n! You comin' for a drive still? The boys are waiting. " Charlie. Elvis's right hand man, he was knocking on the door to the bedroom you and Elvis shared. You flited your eyes to the closed door and the man in your lap. "Yeah, comin' Charlie!" You called back, unfortunately disrupting the sleeping beauty, his hands curled around your waist as he shuffled around. He groaned. The sun streamed in through the long linen curtains, its warmth heating up your pink cheeks. "Elvis, come on, I gotta' get up." You ran the pads of your fingers through his hair, eliciting a moan from his lips. "Don't you move, little girl." Elvis growled, gripping the inside of your thigh, he pulled it to his mouth, you gasped as his teeth sunk into it. He then moved his mouth further up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the skin.

"Elvis, stop, I need to get up." You run your fingers down his bare back.

"They can wait." He places a kiss to the lacy fabric of your underwear.

"Daddy's hungry."

His long fingers tuck under the waist band of your panties, he pulled them down slightly, placing a kiss to your womb.

Elvis has always had a yearning to make you pregnant, have you carry his baby. He had enough, he didn't want to keep pumping his cock to the thought of you with a swollen belly and full breasts, he wanted to see it, the life growing inside of you. Elvis groaned at the thought.

"What?" You cupped his face, bringing it up to look at you.

He hummed, "Take these off." The sharp edge of his nail trailed along your panties. "Not now baby." You push his hand away, wrong move. Elvis' eyes darken, he sits up, throwing your book onto the floor as his other hand ripped the delicate fabric of your underwear. You squealed as he grasped your thighs, forcing them apart. The force he was using caused you to fall back onto the soft pillows. "Elvis!" You struggled against him as he blew on your wet cunt. The cold air tickled something inside of you. You pulled at the sheets, trying to pull his head back away from your naked bottom half. Elvis shot one arm up to hold your hands above your head, the other pressing down on your pelvis keeping you down. He looked up at you.

"Quiet." His voice was low, it ran shivers up your spine.

As soon as his mouth touched your clit every fuck you gave crumbled away, it was just you and him. You moaned into the pillow, biting into it. His tongue worked your clit, sucking it and releasing it with a pop. He groaned into your pussy, thrusting his tongue in, he imagines you are pregnant with his child, all swollen and round, your breasts waiting to taken care of. He licks a stripe down your folds, just to thrust his tongue back in. Elvis stopped, bringing his hands down to part your thighs further, he sits up pulling his white boxer shorts down, his erect cock springing out. "Elvis, baby, people will hear! The boys are downstairs." You whispered. "Then you better keep your mouth shut? Huh little girl?" He pressed his red tip to your entrance, slowly pushing in. "Ah!" You squeal adjusting to his size, your never get use to it, Elvis smiles slyly, he leans down capturing your lips with his, his tongue moves along yours as he begins to thrust in, you moan into his mouth. He pulls back, curing his hands around your waist as he pulled almost all the way out, just to fill you up to the hilt.

The sounds of skin clapping together filled the air, the room smelt of sex. The sounds leaving you were almost pornographic as he pounded into you. "Oh! God! Fuck yes!" You scream out, Elvis picks up your hand, kissing your palm. "You gonna carry my baby? Hm?" He growls into your palm, you nod vigorously, gasping as he groped your breasts. The guys downstairs stopped their conversations as soon as they heard your cries of pleasure. Charlie ran his hand down his face, chuckling "Looks like she ain't comin' down any time soon." The rest of Elvis's mafia laughed as they all walked out the door. Elvis twisted you around, his hands gripping your hips. "That's it baby, you can do it, come on." He kissed your back, thrusting into you relentlessly. You gripped the headboard groaning as Elvis pushed himself deeper, "Oh!" You gasped, his fingers had found their way to your swollen clit, rubbing circles. "Cum for me." He spanked your ass, plowing into you now. The moans that left your mouth fueled his pleasure, tightening the feeling his in stomach. "Fuck!" He yelled out. The coil building in your stomach tightened as he thrusted in twice more before spilling his seed into you. You chased your own release, replacing Elvis's fingers with yours.

Elvis pulled out, you whined at the loss.

He pat your ass, his laugh sending a chill up your body.

"I expect you to make me a daddy." He hummed as he shoved the leaking cum back inside you.

It's just a small one shot (or is it...) to keep you going. Let me know if you want to be tagged in my work!

Tagged:

@redwitchbitch1

<333

[parkitrighthere]

TEASER

• TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)

• PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader

• GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight

• WORD COUNT: 5k+

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long… hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!

MASTERLIST

You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.

It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.

But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.

A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.

You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.

And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.

He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?

He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile��oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.

"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.

You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.

"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.

You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.

"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.

He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.

You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.

There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.

"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.

You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.

"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.

"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”

The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.

You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.

Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.

"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.

"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.

"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.

"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.

"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.

Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”

The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”

He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”

You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”

"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”

Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.

You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.

Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"

You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.

"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.

"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."

It’s him.

"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.

Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.

It had only been two days.

His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.

Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he… waiting for something?

Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.

But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”

“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.

But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.

You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”

“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.

Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?

How could he be the same person?

The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.

Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”

“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.

Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.

Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.

You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?

a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!

a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.

[pedrospatch]

lost on you l a safe haven drabble

series masterlist

summary: You’re missing Joel and a certain mare seems to be picking up on your sadness—or at least that’s what you think is happening when there’s a sudden change in her behavior. Why else would Stella be acting so strange around you?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. angst, horses, and a lil more angst. reader’s pregnancy is lightly being implied, but it has not been explicitly stated yet, only hinted at. no Joel, he is only mentioned in this one. Dina makes an appearance, i threw in some comedic moments to try and balance out the angst. ends with a horsey hug.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: so this is meant to be as a bit of a filler fic before chapter 9 is posted and shit hits the fan. i knew i wanted to do a short drabble that touches on how reader is doing after the confrontation she had with Joel. i also asked people to send in short prompts for the series to do some no pressure writing exercises, and this particular prompt that was sent in was just incredible and i decided to incorporate it. It makes me nervous to post a fic with no Joel in it, but my heart wanted to write it so fuck it, I just wrote it. chapter 9 is almost done and will be posted soon. @eyesneverbeensoblue i hope it’s okay to tag you in this and tell you thank you so much for the idea!

Lately, I’m getting lost on you

I tore your world apart like it was nothing new

every day I’m a slave to the heartache…

Summer slowly, but surely comes to an end.

The days are long, but the nights without Joel?

They’re even longer, at least, that’s how it feels.

You miss him. Oh God, how you fucking miss Joel Miller.

He’s all you can ever think about.

Every second of every minute of every single day.

You miss Joel so much that it physically hurts. Every part of you just aches for him. Aches. 

Your insides feel like they’re on fire, and you can't put it out.

The heartache is agonizing, almost unbearable—it’s unlike anything you have ever felt before.

In front of others, you hold it together pretty well. But when you’re alone, behind closed doors? 

That’s when you fall apart. Crumble into pieces.

Losing Joel is something you will never heal from. Never.

Traces of himself he’d left behind—would you ever be able to wipe yourself clean of them? Of him? Or would you have to spend the rest of your damn life trying to get over the man who fucking adored the hell out of you and who loved you so unconditionally?

“He misses you, you know,” Ellie says, quietly. She stands beside you and diligently runs a hard, bristled hand brush along Jasper’s side to clear his golden coat of dirt and debris. The palomino is just one of several horses that needed tending to after that morning’s patrol shift. Realizing you’re too busy jotting down notes in Jasper’s handwritten file you keep for him—you kept a file for every single horse in the commune—Ellie clears her throat and then speaks again, louder this time. “He misses you.”

You wince and stop mid scribble.

“Ellie—” you trail off, your throat going dry.

Even though you’d asked her about a hundred and one times not to talk about Joel, Ellie was hellbent on bringing him up to you as often as she could. At first, it seemed innocent enough. She stuck to just letting you know how his recovery was going.

“His shoulder’s healing really well.” 

“Donna came over to help with physical therapy.” 

“He’ll be back on patrol in a couple of weeks.” 

So you’d given her a pass. Besides, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to know how he was healing after his injury.

However, Ellie then began to wander into more sensitive and dangerous territory.

“He asked me about you.” 

“He was drinking again last night.” 

“He looks so fucking miserable.” 

You know why she’s doing it.

It’s not to make you feel guilty for hurting Joel.

Hell, she knows that you’re hurting just as badly. She loves you and she loves Joel—the two people Ellie cares about more than anything are suffering without each other.

You hate that she’s essentially been pulled right into the middle of this mess that you’ve created.

Ellie is collateral damage. This is all hurting her too.

“He misses you a lot,” she adds after a minute.

You exhale sharply. Her words feel like a punch to the gut and they knock the wind out of your lungs.

Finally, you look up from your clipboard, turning to her. “Ellie,” you say her name warningly. “Stop it. We’re not going to do this today. Okay?”

“I’m just saying,” she mumbles, placing a hand on Jasper’s side. “If someone was missing me, I think I would want to fucking know.”

You feel the lump steadily rising in your throat.

“Ellie, please don’t—”

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!”

The sound of Dina’s voice fills the horse stables.

The teenager whips herself into Jasper’s stall, skidding to a stop in front of you, sweaty and breathless, as if she had just run across the settlement.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She apologizes, setting her bag down on the ground. Pulling a scrunchie from the back pocket of her jeans, she throws her long, black hair into a messy bun as she explains herself. “Talia asked me to help her out in the library this morning and I totally lost track of time. And then on the way over here, I bumped into Mrs. Miller as she was walking home from the market and I mean, I could not just let a pregnant lady carry all those heavy bags across town—”

“Dina, breathe, sweetheart.” You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay. As long as you show up, that’s all I care about. Especially since Tommy and Maria moved Logan to patrol duty. That’s another stable hand gone, so I need all the help I can possibly get around here.” Slipping your clipboard under your arm, you glance from Dina to Ellie. The emotions from what had happened just seconds before your niece had run in are bubbling, threatening to boil over. “Listen, I have to go do a routine examination on Stella. Finish up with grooming Jasper. I have a couple of horses that are due for baths—Luna and Bandit. Then it’s feeding time. Got it?”

Dina smiles brightly. “We’ll take care of it, won’t we, El?”

Sensing your urgency to leave, Ellie gives a subtle, small nod of her head. “Yeah. We will.”

“Good. I’ll come check on you girls when I’m done with Stella.” Spinning around on the muck caked heel of your boot, you hastily leave Jasper’s stall and nearly fly all the way down the stables and into Stella’s.

You rush inside, closing the top and bottom half of the Dutch door before sagging back against the wood. You toss your clipboard aside on the floor of the stall and lift both your hands, covering your face as you choke back sobs of pure agony.

He misses you. 

As you will yourself to keep yourself from falling apart, you feel a warm muzzle dig lightly into your lower stomach. Dropping your hands from your face, you glance up only to see Stella peering at you with clear and unmistakable curiosity in her big brown eyes.

“Hi there, my gorgeous girl,” you murmur softly to the pregnant mare. A tear slips out from the corner of your eye and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand.

Stella lowers her head and sniffs at your stomach, right where she had dug into you. Her ears prick forward and she nuzzles the same spot again.

You shoot her a strange look. You’ve never seen her exhibit this type of behavior before.

“Stella, what are you doing?” you ask, almost as if you expect her to speak and give you an answer. “Why are you being so weird?”

Stella sniffs you again, then nips at the hem of your tank top.

“Hey! Cut that out.” You can’t help but let out a watery giggle as you carefully pull the fabric out of her mouth. Realizing the strange behavior must have something to do with the mare sensing the intensity of your negative emotions, you gently place both of your hands on either side of her muzzle. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you slowly exhale it through your mouth before touching your forehead to hers. “I’ll be okay, girl. I’ll be okay. There’s no other choice—I have to be okay.”

An hour later, you’d finished the examination.

Stella had continued to act oddly around you, her behavior becoming more and more peculiar as time went on. You were bonded to her of course—you were bonded to just about every single horse in the commune—and so it didn’t really surprise you that the mare was so in tune with your emotions and could feel that something was off. She was extremely attentive to you as you worked, her eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

Stella also continued to sniff you, nuzzling you in the stomach any chance she had. For as bizarre as it was, it brought you an off sense of comfort and it made you feel less alone.

“Hey auntie.” Dina opens the stall door, poking her head inside. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

She pushes the door open further and walks into the stall with Ellie on her heels. Both of them are almost completely soaked from head to toe. 

Your eyes widen. “Um, girls, I’m pretty sure I told you to bathe the horses—not yourselves.”

Ellie lets out a small scoff. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Bandit wasn’t having it,” Dina chuckles. “But he’s all clean, and so is Luna. We just came in to tell you we’re going to go dry off and change our clothes. We’ll be back for feeding time.” She glances at the mare. “How’s our sweet mama-to-be doing?”

“Good. She’s as healthy as a horse.”

The teenagers roll their eyes, but laugh.

“You’re so lame, auntie.”

“Just a little equine veterinarian humor. My dad used that one on me all the time.” You grin at the memory. “Stella’s doing really well. In about seven or eight months, we’ll have our new baby.”

“Well then, I think someone deserves a little treat since she’s doing so good.” Dina reaches into the bag she has slung over her shoulder and pulls out a crisp, red apple. She walks over, holding the fruit out in the palm of her hand for the horse. “Here you go, girl.”

Stella gives the apple a sniff, then takes it from her. 

Usually, she wolfs it down in just a few chomps—but what she does next surprises all three of you. Apple still between her teeth, the mare turns and pushes her muzzle into your stomach.

“Oh shit,” Ellie cackles. “No fucking way!”

“Oh my god,” Dina grins. “Is she—she’s giving it to you?”

Shocked, you lift a hand and delicately take the apple from between her teeth. “Stella, you silly girl! What are you doing?” You hold it out for her. “This apple is for you, sweetheart. Here, take it.”

She tosses her head in the air.

Dina snorts into her hand. “She just told you no!”

“She wants you to have it.” Ellie shoots you a teasing look. “Come on, princess. Take a bite.”

You look at her, then down at the apple, which is covered completely in Stella’s slobber.

“Um, no thanks. I think I’ll pass,” you mutter. 

“Auntie, don’t be rude,” Dina jokes. “It’s bad manners to refuse her offer.”

Rolling your eyes at your niece, you turn back to Stella and tell her, “I’ll eat it later. When it’s washed.”

“We’re starting to smell like wet horse,” Ellie makes a gagging noise as she takes a whiff of her shirt.

Dina lifts the collar of her blouse to her nose. “Oh, gross. We are starting to smell like wet horse.” She reaches out with her opposite hand, grabbing one of Ellie’s. She laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go change.”

You can’t help but notice the way Dina looks at Ellie—with the sweetest, most adoring little smile.

You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly.

Ellie’s eyes meet yours and she blushes deeply.

If you ever had a chance to give Ellie Williams shit, this was it—but instead, you just give her a subtle wink from where you stand. Her face instantly goes from red to maroon.

“Be sure to be back in an hour for feeding time!” you call as Dina pulls her out of the stall. “I’m not feeding all these horses alone!”

“We will!”

Once the girls are gone, you turn to Stella and wrap your arms around her neck. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up today, pretty girl.”

She rests her head on your shoulder.

You feel more tears coming and hug her harder.

lyrics: Lost on You - Lewis Capaldi

[azullumi]

wanderer — haunted by your ghost ☆彡

summary — you haunt him, his mind, his dreams, his existence. what happens after he wakes up from a nightmare and you're not there besides him?

pairing — wanderer/gender-neutral reader

tags — hurt/comfort, some fluff in the end; one-shot

word count — 688

a/n — i haven't written for my bbg for like days and i just feel like a dehydrated man.

"let's break up."

wanderer jolts himself awake, immediately sitting up as he opens his eyes. enveloped in cold sweat as a drop ran down his forehead, thoughts were all jumbled and scrambled inside his head, rendering him unable to think straight. his mind hasn't processed anything and everything has only faded to white noise, his intellect only wandering to the dream that he had, not knowing if it's real or not.

he couldn't just think of that one day he will wake up without your warmth—your warmth, where is it? where are you?

the side of the bed where you always lay was cold and empty, no trace of your existence was found on the wrinkle of the sheets, and it is only when reality has dawned upon him. his ears still couldn't discern any noise— there was only silence that surrounded him and nothing of you.

so it was real, after all?

he falls apart in his bed, crumbling, so he's alone once more and yet he still isn't used to this feeling. no longer will he feel the world caress and kiss his skin, and no longer will he feel it hold him.

he hates it and he also hates how you have imprinted yourself in his mind, tangled your soul with his, and bound yourself in his heart.

you haunt him in a way that your touch will always ghost over his skin, you haunt him in a way that he will dream of you every night and could only think of you in the morning, you haunt him with the whispers of your confession and never let him find peace in himself because a life without you is nothing but just a cycle of breathing— he will live but he will never be alive.

you haunt him and so he will never forget you and he couldn't tell if he hates the notion of it or not.

"kuni? what's wrong? i heard some noise." his head snapped to the direction of the door where the voice came from and there he saw a familiar face, there he saw you, standing at the entrance of the room with a concerned look on his face. he could tell that you were in the midst of cooking from the way you were dressed in an apron and holding a spatula in hand.

oh, a nightmare.

he relaxed—finally—feeling his expression loosen up to a gentle one. his gaze softened and he could breathe once again. the silence dissipated and he could feel everything around him all at once, the songs the birds were singing outside the window, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast in the air, and you. like an empty canvas being painted, his surroundings gained back its color, from the muddy stillness turned to vibrant and serene.

a dream.

"is something wrong? maybe you're sick…" he didn't even notice you approach and sit down in front of him not until you spoke as he was way too focused with the overwhelming feeling of his surroundings that has started to come to life. he feels you press the back of your hand against his forehead, feeling his temperature before continuing, "...you don't have a fever but you do feel cold. did you perhaps had another nigh—"

before you could even finish your sentence, you were interrupted as he pulled you into a tight embrace, protective but at the same time, helpless.

"let's stay like this for a while please," he whispers, pulling you much closer in his embrace as he speaks and you could sense the dread in his voice, confirming the thought that he relived yet through another horrible experience or something that he fears of happening in his dreams. so you eased in his arms, wrapping yours around his back and patting it as a means to comfort him.

he just wants to feel you against him, to confirm your existence, your presence, in his arms. he just needs to know that it's you and everything that he thought that happened was simply nothing but just a figment of his imagination.

"i'm here, it's okay."

— navigation | masterlist

[cielie-voss]

I usually ignor ficus when I see rockstar!eddie but I’ve thought of something. What about reader x rockstar!eddie where you have worked with other bands before in some way so you know those members would never be reliable relationships so you avoided at all costs. But when Eddie meets you and falls hard. He tries so hard to make sure you see that he has never been and would never fall into that stereotype of a rockstar in those times of the 80s. He was truly only passionate about the music . Not even caring if he ever got famous. That’s not his intention like how most bands back then, their members goals were just to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible.

So with you he really tries to win you over so hard, and finally you let your walls crumble for him and he really does prove to you exactly how truth he was from the moment he met you.

No sex and drugs - just rock'n'roll

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x guitarist!Reader

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to be, started over 4 times and accidentally deleted my favorite attempt but here we are! 😄 Hope you like it! 🫶

Warnings: rockstar au, a little bit fluff, some kind of enemies to lovers, some curse words, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, mentions of reader being used by men, smoking, pizza with pineapple (I think this deserves to be mentioned here), not proofread.

Bonus points to everyone who notice my little easter eggs. 😅

Wordcount: 9.9k

Taglist: @violettsoul

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

The road called your name again.

Well, it wasn't exactly your name but rather the name of your and your cousins band - The Sleepless. You’ve been lying in your bed, awake, for at least two hours and watched the dust dancing like little fairies in the golden sunbeams, that successfully fought their way through the gap of your thick curtains.

Ironic, isn't it?

It was still early in the morning, the bustling life of the city was still deep in slumber, with only the occasional roar of an engine cutting through the silence. Unable to find the sweet bliss of some desperately needed sleep, you were alternately watching the fairies dancing in the gentle rays of the rising morning sun and the miserably slow ticking of your clock, which was enthroned above the door and of which you were not quite sure whether the time it showed was correct.

The shrill beeping of your alarm clock saved you from this never ending misery. You sat up and let your legs dangling off the edge of your bed for a moment as you stretched your back. Yawning, you slowly slid off the edge and dragged your feet over to the little corner you called kitchen.

The screeching of the floorboards echoed like a disgruntled sigh from the naked walls and the worn out carpet you had bought at a flea market ages ago offered little protection against the cold that radiated from the wooden floor and crept through your feet into your legs. You couldn't say exactly how long the heating had been broken, or whether it had ever worked at all. But the constant cold wasn't really bothersome for you, as rarely as you were in this apartment. And yet the thought of returning to your home after another stressful tour and not to another hotel room seemed much more appealing. Although a hotel room would be much more financially affordable than this apartment, which was furnished with mismatched furniture from flea markets, dried flowers on the windowsill and a tap that was like a round of Russian roulette - you never knew exactly when it would next decide to jump off the edge of the sink and give whoever dared to touch it an unwanted shower.

The smell of coffee slowly filled your little apartment. You watched the dark, steaming liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, into the oversized and absurdly ridiculous looking cup, the handle of which was too small, to stick a single finger through and was painted so hideously that it could almost be described as an abstract work of art. It would certainly have been pretty, with its unevenly sized flowers and smiley-faced butterflies that were almost creepy, if one had made even the slightest effort. But what blame could you possibly give your elementary school self for this trash? Drawing, let alone any other kind of craft, was never one of your strengths. The only thing your clumsy fingers could do was play the guitar.

After you gulped down your minimalistic breakfast, you rushed into your bathroom. The hot water ran down your body, washing the night from your skin as you hummed a new tune that had found its way into your mind and was gnawing there like a terrier.

“I have to write this down straight away,” you promised yourself, but as soon as you stepped out of the shower, now standing in the fog of your hellishly hot shower session, the melody escaped as quickly as it came.

Scowling, you got ready, plaited your wet y/h/c hair into a simple braid so it wouldn't stick across your face, slipped into your favorite jeans, a faded T-shirt and comfortable shoes that would carry you from gig to gig over the next few weeks. You threw a jacket over your shoulders, grabbed the suitcase, shouldered the guitar and let the door close behind you with a loud click. The keychain, which consisted of more pendants than keys, jingled loudly as you locked the door.

The hum of the city, now gradually awakening, echoed through the streets of Los Angeles; a soundtrack that accompanied your departure into a new adventure, a new tour. You would be away for some time again. But to be honest, your apartment never quite felt like home and probably never will. But what does home even mean? Oh boy, let’s not open this box.

Spending the time with your cousins, the three goofy guys you grew up with and were more like brothers for you, always felt more ‘home’ than being in your actual home.

When you reached the parking lot you were loudly greeted by your cousins, as if you hadn’t seen them in ages. But you haven’t seen them for only three days.

What drama queens …

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping upon your lips as all three of them tried to hug you at the same time.

“Whoa! Take care of that guitar!”, you admonished them laughing.

"Excellent!" Rick, the tour manager, clapped his hands as you joined the already waiting group. “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get on the road. Are you guys excited?”

Oh god, that was too much enthusiasm for an early morning. And by the groaning of everyone else, you knew you weren’t alone with that opinion.

Your luggage was taken by the driver and stored into the bus that would be your home on wheels for the next few weeks. But as he was about to take your guitar, you pressed it against your chest, making clear it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Soooo,” someone snuck up behind you, “and you are the next Stevie Nicks they say, huh?”

You turned around and looked at a guy from the other band, Corroded Coffin. His face was framed by wild, dark curls and his brown eyes sparkled for a moment with something like delightful anticipation. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he cocked his head and examined you closely from head to toe.

"Well, I wouldn't dare say that," His eyes snapped back up to your face when your soft voice sounded, "But I think I can fairly say that at least I won't be the next Cyndi Lauper." Was that a joke you had just made? You weren't necessarily the kind of person who cracked a lot of jokes, as a lot of people didn't understand your type of humor. But the guy in denim jeans and studded belt seemed to unexpectedly appreciate your humor.

"God forbid! The world wouldn’t be able to tolerate another horribly squeaky voice like that. Not to mention those ridiculous lyrics. I mean - " He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as if quoting the lyrics would cause him physical pain, " - The hour is late, don't you want me baby? Through your garden gate. Really? I even write better lyrics when I'm drunk." A hoarse giggle escaped his throat and you couldn't suppress a shy giggle either.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself without further ado, relieved that you also seemed to find his joke funny, and offered you his hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Eddie.” You shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the fancy rings that adorned his fingers. But before you had the chance to take a closer look at them, Chad, your cousin and drummer of your band, hurried you inside the bus.

A brief fight about who would take which bunk broke out among your cousins. But instead of joining their childish behavior, you simply threw your guitar on the bunk you found most appealing.

“Hey!” Doug, the lead singer and oldest member of the band declared upset. “That’s not fair! Who said you could just claim that bunk!”

“Isn’t it ‘Ladies first’?”, you asked, smirking as you let yourself down on the rigid mattress.

“Oh come on, you’re not a lady,” he laughed but you just shrugged, not even thinking about giving up your bunk. You heard a muttered ‘Princess’ from them as you began to make yourself comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Being the only female sometimes had its perks.

Since it was still early in the morning, you decided to take a nap, but the smell of coffee woke you up after an hour, followed by Cliff’s “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, please Cliff, don’t give her a reason to think she’s an actual beauty.”

“Shut up, Doug,” you sighed but took the cup Cliff handed to you. You took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and wrapped your hands around the cup.

“So when’s the next stop?”, you wanted to know after you took a look at your watch.

After Chad studied the leaflet with the exact time schedule of the tour, he answered: “We should be at the location tomorrow morning at 8 am.” He turned the piece of paper, trying to find any other information. “God, I hope we’ll take a break soon. I won’t survive without a cigarette until tomorrow morning.”

To everyone's relief, later that day the buses pulled over to a rather abandoned parking lot for a quick break. Being crammed up in a bus for hours with you slightly hyperactive and childish older cousins could be seen as some sort of torture. From burping contests to silly bickering, you weren’t spared of the usual bullshit today. So when the bus stopped and the door opened, you literally fled outside. The fresh air filled your lungs and you thanked god for the break. You loved your cousins, really, but they could be a nuisance.

“Finally managed to escape the madness, huh?” You could hear the smile in the voice of the guy who sneaked up on you. You weren’t expecting someone to come up to you for a chat, so the sudden sound of this guys voice startled you.

“Jesus christ!”, you screeched out in surprise and turned around to see Eddie's amused face.

“You can call me Eddie,” he winked at you. “Little jumpy, huh? Adorable.”

“Are you done with this?” You weren’t on the road for a day and yet the Rockstar was trying to flirt with you. Must be a new record.

“What? I - uh,” Eddie stuttered surprised, his eyebrows curled up in a frown.

“Oh, so you already met.” To your surprise, it was Cliff who saved you from another flirting attempt from Eddie. You were about to answer ‘Unfortunately’ but figured this would probably ruin this whole trip beforehand. So you decided to just nod and shut your mouth.

You hated rock stars. Ironic, huh? Since you were the guitarist and singer of a band, soon to be a rockstar too. Most of the guys didn’t care a lot about the music as soon as they got famous. The moment they were cheered by fangirls, all they cared about was to get as many girls as possible into bed. They never missed the opportunity for a small, insignificant quickie, took advantage of their status to get women into bed, only to then push them out of bed after a short bit of fun in order to seek confirmation from the next slut. Playing with women to boost their egos was more important to them than their music, the one thing they got famous for. At some point, you thought they just used music to get famous so they could bang sluts; it wasn’t about music from the beginning. And now, here was Eddie, seemingly just like the rest of them, with his charm and his smile, trying to play the same game. But you weren't going to fall for it. Bitches always know, and you weren't about to become another notch on his bedpost. You were pretty sure he was just another one of those bastards, flirting with you for his own amusement and validation, to eventually get you into bed like so many others before.

In the last few years that you had been working in the music industry, you had experienced many pick-up attempts from a number of musicians. Both when you initially accompanied the bands as an assistant to the tour manager and during your recent time as an opening act with your band; you were not spared the pick-up lines.

In the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting, you went for it, felt flattered and unfortunately fell for the charm of some of the musicians. It would probably be an exaggeration to say you fell head over heels in love, but at least a handful of the musicians swept you off your feet. But every time you had to painfully learn anew that musicians, especially rock stars like Eddie, were all bastards. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - that was the motto they lived by.

Obviously, your aversion to rock stars was merely a reaction to the many times you had been hurt, exploited and betrayed. Painfully, you had to learn time and time again that it was probably a pathological habit of these guys to use women to confirm their tiny egos and were incapable of anything like a lasting relationship. And this Eddie was no exception.

“Y/N, this is Jeff, he plays the bass,” Cliff pointed at the guy next to him, a tall guy with dark skin and a smile as sweet as honey, “Jeff, this is Y/N, she’s our guitarist and second singer.”

Jeff shook your hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you told him, ignoring Eddie next to you, who was not so patiently waiting to chime in. Jeff noticed his friend's urge to say something, but with a smile he continued to talk to you.

“Now you just have to meet Gareth, he’s our drummer, and Grant, one of our guitarists. And Eddie,” he points at the fidgety guy next to you, “is our singer and lead guitarist.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Rick called out to get back into the buses.

“Alright, see you later.”, Cliff said and, with you in tow, hurried back to your bus and waved Jeff and Eddie goodbye.

The next day you played your first show of the tour, the prelude of this adventure. And it was a great success. The crowd was hyped, thrilled to see your band perform before Corroded Coffin entered the stage. By far, this show was the best one you’ve had. Adrenaline flooded your body as you hopped off the stage after the last song. You were soaring higher and higher on the feeling, an addicting mixture of dopamine and endorphins.

“What was that?” Doug, excitedly jumping up and down, looked at you with wide eyes.

You mirrored his smile and tried to find the right words to sum up what just happened.

“That was absolutely insane!”, yelled Cliff out. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to place a kiss at the crown of your head. “You were incredible! And that solo?” Cliff let go of you. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed out, and mimicked the motion of his mind exploding. His palms hovered inches away from his temples as he widened his eyes in astonishment, as if trying to contain the explosion of thoughts within his skull. You started to giggle, touched by your cousin's excitement about your freestyled solo.

“I really hope you remember what you did up there. Brillant!” Thankfully you took the beer Chad handed you. “I swear to god, when this tour won’t be our breakthrough, I’ll be damned.”

For the rest of the show you stayed backstage with Chad, while Doug and Cliff roamed around the venue, drinking beer, celebrating, and probably trying to flirt with some girls. You sipped at your cool beer and wiped away the sweat on your skin with a towel Chad threw at you. The high slowly subsided. But you had to agree with Chad; you could literally sense how this tour might be your last step before your big breakthrough. Satisfied you laid back in the small armchair backstage and spent the time talking with Chad as long as Corroded Coffin were on the stage.

After Eddie and his band had to play bonus track after bonus track, they finally left the stage. The time schedule was very tight knit, which left you no time to stay and relax. As soon as the crowd left the venue, you quickly gathered your stuff and stowed away everything in the buses. A quick ‘Great show’ was all the bands interacted with each other before they disappeared into their home on wheels, carrying them to the next location.

The next shows were no different to the first one; success after success. Your fan base grew, you were asked for autographs, fans bought your merchandise and wanted to take a photo with ‘The Sleepless’. Everything felt like a dream.

“I think Eddie really has his eyes on you,” Chad whispered to you with a mischievous grin when, during the sound check, he spotted Eddie walking up and down next to the stage, hidden behind the sound boxes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and changed your position without comment, under the pretense of tuning the guitar undisturbed.

One evening, after another successful show, you had the chance to stay at the venue, no time schedule stressing you to leave the town right away. You were sitting at the bar and drinking some beer. Before you went back to the hotel, you wanted to take the time to chat with Corroded Coffin.

Eddie rocked back and forth indecisively, the label on the beer bottle in his hand hanging in shreds after he rubbed it nervously throughout the last twenty minutes. He was fascinated by you, your demeanor, your humor, your talent, not to mention your beauty. But he was also confused by your cold, dismissive manner towards him. So he gathered his courage, clutched his beer bottle. As you were casually chatting with Gareth, Eddie approached you from behind, trying to appear as cool and collected as possible.

“So, um… Do you like raccoons?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have slapped himself for it. What was that supposed to be? Cringing about his failed attempt at gaining your attention, Eddie frowned.

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out if your mind was just playing some tricks on you. Luckily you couldn’t see Gareth’s amused grin, deriding his friend's horrible attempt to flirt with you.

"What?" Eyebrows raised, you turned her head in Eddie’s direction, thinking that you probably misheard what he said over the loud music. Because nobody would ever think of starting a conversation with “Do you like raccoons” right?

“Oh, uh … nevermind.” Embarrassed by his defeat, Eddie turned around, leaving you and Gareth alone again.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeff hissed as Eddie sat back down next to him at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Eddie whined, burying his face in his hands.

The evening wore on and the more Eddie drank, the more confident he became until he plucked up the courage to talk to you again. His gaze lingered on you a little too long as he waited until you were alone again and he could shoot his shot. After Gareth left you, Eddie took a deep breath and took his chance.

“Your performance was really good. You are so talented,” he let you know, as casually as discussing the weather. There was a lot of nervousness bubbling under his cool facade, but he was able to hide it surprisingly well.

“Thanks.” Your answer was short and might have come out ruder than you intended. Without even looking at him, you sipped your drink. Eddie felt himself continuing to run into the walls you had built around you. So he tried again.

“You have a really nice guitar. You rarely see such gems on a stage.”

Sighing, you put the glass down and turned to him. For a brief moment, a spark of hope flickered within him as your eyes met his. You were just about to give him a rather sarcastic answer when he spoke up again.

“I would really be happy if I could get to know you a bit. I mean, we've been traveling together for a while now, so I'd like to know who I'm dealing with." For better or worse, you had to agree with him. After a moment's consideration, you nodded in agreement.

So Eddie cautiously tried to get to know you. At the beginning you were rather shy and your answers were short. After a few minutes, however, you thawed out a bit and Eddie allowed himself to make a joke or two that surprisingly made you smile.

“What do you do in your free time, when you’re not out and about making music?” Interested, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter and literally sank into the depths of your eyes.

You thought for a brief moment before answering him. “I'm trying to recover from the tours and unpleasant flirtations of horny rock stars.” With a wink, you leaned back, eager to hear his answer.

“Oh come on, touring with a rock band can’t be that bad,” he replied incredulously. You raised an eyebrow almost defiantly.

“You think so?” You snorted disdainfully. “Oh, you have no idea what it's like to tour in the wake of a rock star. Besides the crappy hotels, poor pay and miserably long bus tours, someone like me has to put up with the constant bragging about who's the band's biggest player." With a teasing grin, you tilted your head and slowly ran your finger along the rim of the glass.

“Between all the…how do I best put this?” You narrowed your eyes and seemed to think. “Between all the meet-and-greets, there’s hardly any room to rest. If you know what I mean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.” You raised the glass to your lips again and as you sipped at the drink, you looked Eddie almost challengingly in the eyes.

Eddie held your gaze, felt challenged and saw his chance to win you over. Just don't make any mistakes now.

“You know, maybe you just need the right rock star to change your mind,” he countered playfully, lowering his voice. “I would rather spend my time on the couch with a good book than with groupies at a wild party.”

“Oh really?” you replied incredulously, voice dripping with sarcasm. You liked playing the game, maybe even making him think he had a chance with you. A game of cat and mouse, except that it wasn't entirely clear who was the cat and who was the mouse.

"Oh yeah!" He confirmed his statement exuberantly and nodded eagerly. “It’s a lot more rock‘n’relax, you know?”

You snorted, barely hiding a giggle. “Rock’n’Relax, yeah?” You looked at him skeptically with a lopsided smile. “No scandals? No wild parties? No paparazzi madness? That almost sounds too good to be true. You’re like the last unicorn in a herd of wild donkeys.” You leaned forward a little and let a strand of your y/h/c hair slide between your fingers.

Eddie felt like he had found a small crack in your wall. With a triumphant smile on his lips, he took another sip of beer.

“You know,” he put the bottle back on the counter, “to be honest, I don’t really care. Just because I'm famous doesn't change my passion for music. For me it was never about anything other than my music and not about fame.” Confident of victory, he enjoyed the moment in which you looked at him admiringly, not knowing that you were just playing with him, the way everyone had always played with you before. Encouraged by your feigned affection, he took the next step.

“You know, maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else. In a nice restaurant perhaps? Just you and me. What do you think of that, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Not gonna happen, Munson.” There was something mocking in your voice as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the club. He watched you leave, speechless and confused. What just happened? Was he caught up in a bad dream? No, one look at his friends, who were looking at him just as stunned, he knew that he couldn't have dreamed that.

The first stop of your next ten hour journey was early in the morning. You were given a good 15 minutes to stretch your feet, smoke or just get some fresh air.

Half-awake, you strolled across the rest area with a steaming cup of coffee and joined Chad and Cliff, who were smoking by one of the trash cans.

With a grin, Chad noticed Eddie trying to get close to you unnoticed. “Look, your shadow is already awake too,” he teased whispering, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“God, this guy just won’t leave me alone,” you moaned and squeezed your tired eyes shut in annoyance, which was a dangerous endeavor, since you feared you might not be able to open your eyes again.

"How come? He’s quite nice, isn’t he?” Cliff objected.

“He’s a rock star. And they’re all the same,” you replied wearily. "Superficial. Arrogant. Narcissistic. And oh, very important; They fuck everything that’s female and has two legs just to reinforce their puny ego that they’re the hottest.”

“Woah! Hold on, hold on," Chad interjected laughing. “Seems like someone's gotten out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“Oh come on, it’s true,” you whispered and looked at your cousin, pressing the warming cup of coffee against your chest in a poor attempt to warm yourself. “Every band I’ve worked with so far has, without exception, been out to meet as many groupies as they can.”

Both rolled with their eyes, ready to say something, but were silenced by Rick's voice. “Okay, everyone, break is over! We need to move on!”

Sighing you shambled back to your bus, hoping to get some more time to doze off in your little bunk before your slightly hyperactive cousins would return to their typical banter and bullshit, keeping you awake and denying you the rest you needed.

“Why don't you just give him a chance?”, Chad groaned and plumped down on the beanbag.

Cliff climbed up into the bus and agreed with his brother. “Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy.”

“I really have to agree with them. You should give him a chance. I don't see what your problem is anyway.” Doug’s voice echoed from the small bathroom of the bus.

You dramatically rolled your eyes and sighed. Didn't they see how all your ‘just give him a chance’ romances ended? It's like they forgot about all the times your heart was broken, all the times you’ve been used and played with, like none of that ever happened.

“Because,” you started, almost sounding like a teacher, “Rockstars are assholes.” The eyes of your cousins followed your every move as you crouched down in front of the little fridge, searching for some milk for your coffee. There was no chance they’d shut up to let you sleep, so you could just as well down another coffee to wake up the rest of your body.

“Well, the four Armenian guys we played with a few months ago didn't seem to be assholes. You spent a lot of the time with them. Like … a lot!”, Doug said with special emphasis on the last part of his sentence after coming out of the bathroom. And he was right. You did enjoy the time with these four weirdos from L.A. on your last tour.

“Yeah,” you huffed and filled your cup with the worst coffee you’ve ever had, “‘cause they were stoned the whole time and wanted me to help them with their make-up!”

The three guys looked at each other but eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay, totally forgot about that.” Cliff acknowledged.

For a moment there was silence. An awkward kind of silence and you felt like you won. Maybe you could unexpectedly get a few more minutes of sleep? Until Chad started this discussion all over again. “But what if he’s different?”

You groaned in annoyance at your cousin's remark and laid your head back. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why do you desperately want to -” Mid Sentence you stopped, an idea shooting up in your mind. With wide eyes, and a nearly insane look on your face, you glared at them. “Now I see it. I can see it pretty clearly!”

“What are you talking about?” Chad’s question let you twirl around. You pointed your finger at him, sensing a conspiracy. But it could’ve been the caffeine in your blood as well, you didn’t know but it didn’t matter anyway.

“You guys want me to fuck with him! You want me to fuck with him, so we might get some publicity for our band!”

“Bullshit! No one wants you to fuck with him.”, Chad huffed with a frown, offended by your suspicion and shook his head.

“Unless you want to fuck with him. You know, you’re an adult, you’re responsible for your own actions and who are we to tell you -” You interrupted Doug quickly.

“Okay! Okay! Could we stop discussing my non-existing sexlife? Please? I’m not gonna fuck any Rockstar at all.” You sat back down on the little sofa and sipped your coffee. “Rockstars are just horny little assholes with little egos. All they ever want is to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible, just to boost their ego. Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll - that’s all they ever want.”

“Oh come on, Y/N/N, not everyone in this industry is like that,” Cliff tried to calm you down, unsuccessfully.

“Not everyone, but an incredibly large amount of them are and I’m not willing to go through all of that bullshit again to find out who might not be like the rest. End of discussion.” You downed the coffee and stood up to get some alone time in your somewhat cozy bunk, where you would stay for the rest of the drive.

“Oh, and don’t ever call me Y/N/N again. I’m not eight anymore.”

When you arrived at the club where you were scheduled to perform that evening, it was pouring rain. The thick raindrops splashing against the window panes had a calming effect on you, always has. To pass the time while Rick was dealing with the hotel, which had canceled the reservations for some unknown reason, you made yourself comfortable on one of the padded benches in the entrance area of the hotel and soon closed your eyes. You let the patter of the rain lull you like a gentle massage.

“Could you please stop staring at me like that all the time?” You didn't have to open your eyes to notice Eddie, sitting in a chair just a few steps away from you, watching you and thinking you wouldn't notice.

“I uh…” He felt caught red-handed and nervously jumped up from his seat. Giggling, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at me like a creep?” you interrupted his stuttering. He nodded sheepishly.

“Listen, I would really like to get to know you,” he began after taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair right next to you. “I'm really serious, no games. I’m not one of those cliche rock stars, believe me.” You also sat up and looked at him. Skepticism flashed in your eyes.

“Please give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. I would really like to know who you are off stage. Just an honest conversation, you and me.” Eddie looked at you pleadingly, with big, round puppy-dog eyes that, to be honest, no one could resist. But you hesitated for a moment, indecisive if you should dare to trust him and give him a chance.

“Please, Y/N.” You could tell from his look that he really was being serious. Every single fiber of your being screamed ‘no���, your instinct screamed at you not to trust him, but eventually you gave in.

"One chance." When you finally gave him the opportunity to prove himself his face lit up. “Really just one chance. I've had enough of being played with by guys like you. You have one single chance to convince me that you’re not the kind of rock star that just uses women. Don't make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t regret it, promised,” he solemnly swore, excitedly holding out his pinky for the sacred pinky promise.

“I hope so for your own safety,” you admonished him and sealed the promise. Was this really the right decision?

Later that evening, after another incredible show, Eddie approached you, a wide, excited grin painted on his face. His friends watched him from a distance, ready to help him if needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” He snuck up on you from behind and slung his arm around your shoulders. Was the touching already too much? Too intrusive?

“Oh, hey, there’s your shadow again,” Chad winked at you. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Laughing, he turned away from you and followed Cliff and Doug to the bar.

“That was a good show, huh?” Still high on the evening's success, he grinned broadly at you. “The best show we've had so far!”

"Oh yeah, especially considering all the screaming and bra-throwing fangirls," you told him with a sarcastic tone that immediately wiped the smile off his face.

"What? No, that… well -” Again he burst into incomprehensible babble, which was probably intended to be an apology or justification.

Laughing, you placed a hand on his arm. "Eddie, that was a joke," you explained.

“Oh, yeah, uh - a joke,” he stammered, still a little taken aback. “Shall we maybe eat something?”

“Eat something?” you asked and looked at your watch. “It's almost half past one. In the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: “Some pizza place will be open by now, don’t you think?”

Miraculously, the two of you actually found a rather shabby pizza place that was open at that time. Between a few drunks stumbling out of discos and the smell of greasy food, you found a small table in the corner. While you waited for the pizzas, you observed the unusually lively hustle and bustle in this small diner and were thoroughly amused by the unsuccessful attempts of a drunk German tourist who wanted to order his pizza in Italian from the Pakistani-born owner.

“Really? Pineapple on pizza?” Disgust was written all over Eddie's face as the waiter brought your order.

“What? Believe me, this is the best combo. You have to try it!” Laughing you grabbed a piece and held it up to his face. With a scrunched up nose he tried to get away from your rather pushy attempt to make him try the pineapple pizza.

“Come on! You have to try it, trust me.” Still giggling you looked at Eddie, his eyes darting between you and the piece of pizza, dangerously near his lips. He weighed his options for a moment until he decided to give it a try. With a frown he sighed but leaned forward to take a bite. As he chewed you looked at him expectantly and waited for a reaction. It took him a few seconds until his face lit up. “Well, it’s not that bad actually, but I wouldn’t call this ‘the best combo’,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay Mister Gourmet,” you jested and moved aside on the bench to get away from him in a playful manner, acting pouty. “You obviously don’t have a good taste.”

“I don’t have a good taste?!” The expression on his face was theatrically offended.

“Yeah, you don’t have a good taste. But it’s my fault, sorry, I should’ve known it already the first time you tried to flirt with me.” You shrugged and returned your attention to your pretty oily pizza. Eddie, however, couldn't turn his eyes away from you. With his mouth wide open in shock, trying to find the right words, you couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fish out of water. Grinning to yourself you continued to ignore him until he finally found his voice again.

“What?”, was everything he was able to get out. “What?!”

As you were trying to grab another piece of pizza he shoved the plate away from you, forcing you to look at him. “I have no taste because I think you are fucking cute and talented and gorgeous?”, he summed up your sarcastic remarks.

“Oh please, you don’t honestly think I’m cute or gorgeous or anything,” you snorted, leaning back on the sticky bench, knowing damn well he wouldn’t make it easy for you to get your pizza back. “You just want to flatter me because you want to end up in bed with me like the guys before you.”

Still in shock he stared at you. “No, no, no. Hold on.” Eddie gently turned your head by placing his index finger on your chin so you had to look at him. “You still think all I wanna do is lure you into bed?” He waited in vain for you to reply, but all you did was look down at the dirty table.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to get to know you. Not like the assholes before. I wasn’t joking when I told you I care more about my music than being famous. Even if I wasn’t famous, you would still be that girl I desperately would want to spend my time with, okay? I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect than you. I would gladly give up everything I have just to get to know you. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now, Y/N.” Eddie's voice was soft but determined. You could feel that he was being honest with you, not joking around or acting up just to lure into bed.

All this time you were played with, and not just your time in the music industry but the years at school too, you were so used to only getting a guy's attention because he wanted one thing. But as soon as you made it clear to whoever was shooting his shot, you were nothing more than garbage to them. So it was pretty much understandable that getting compliments or even the slightest attention from someone made you hide behind your wall you built around you to protect you. In your own mind you were worthless, no one would actually want to get to know you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you whispered after some quiet moments, finally looking up into his eyes again. “I’m just not used to all of this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “Well, honestly it’s not okay, because it seems like you’ve been treated like an object before and that’s not okay. But it’s okay that you’re insecure. Let me help you, okay? Let me show you not everyone is like this. I really want you to see what I see when I look at you or hear you sing or simply hear your laugh.” He moved closer to you again, closing the gap you created before. “You can trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you or play with your feelings or anything.”

You just sat there for a moment, your pizzas already turning cold, while a battle raged within you. On one hand, there was the overwhelming desire to trust Eddie, to believe his kind words and let him in. But on the other hand, there was the lingering fear, the scars of past betrayals and heartaches, whispering caution in your ear. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, reminding you of all the times you had been let down and used. It was a struggle between the longing for connection and the instinct to protect yourself from further pain.

As Eddie's warmth enveloped you, a part of you wanted to surrender to the comfort he offered, to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. But another part hesitated, clinging to the safety of your walls, wary of the vulnerability that came with trust.

Eddie's gentle touch and reassuring words began to chip away at your defenses, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts. Could he truly be different? Could he be the one to break the cycle of hurt and disappointment? Or was he just another one to kick you in the back, to play with your feelings just for his amusement?

Eddie sensed you might need a hug, someone to hold you tight and make you feel somehow safe. “Is it okay if I lay my arm around you?”, he carefully asked. You needed a second to muster your courage and finally nodded. Eddie laid his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer. As you leaned into his embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within you, tentative but undeniable. Perhaps, just perhaps, this time would be different.

“I don’t care what you’ve been told by these pricks. All I know is I want to spend my time with you and make some music, nothing else matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Slowly you began to let your walls crumble down, bit by bit. This kind of safety was something you hadn’t felt in quite some time and you nearly forgot what it was like to hold on to somebody. There was still a voice in the back of your head, admonishing you to keep your defense up just in case, because no one could ever really like you, right? You were always the second choice, why should it be different this time?

Time seemed to fly by as you were lost in Eddie's warm embrace and soon you were told to leave by the owner of the diner, it was closing time. You already forgot about the pizza, with all the grease they were disgusting anyway.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back.” Eddie stood up and held out a hand for you. For a second you looked at his hand, his calloused fingers and the chunky rings adorning them, unable to decide if you should accept his offer to hold your hand. But without your heart's consent you eventually grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Eddie cast you a reassuring smile, proud you overcame your doubts.

After that evening you slowly began to trust Eddie. He brought you coffee in the morning, smiling like an idiot at your grumbled insults; even though you were the complete opposite of a morning person, he found your rather grumpy attitude inexplicably endearing. You spent the breaks together, and to your cousin's great confusion, you laughed at his jokes and found yourself drawn to his incredibly mesmerizing and warm eyes. And when you were exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, he simply sat next to you and enjoyed your presence. Sometimes he would play some melodies on his guitar for you or read to you out of some crappy books he bought at a gas station; he always picked the ones with the most ridiculous titles or covers.

Your little pizza dates after your shows quickly became some sort of tradition whenever you had the chance to stay in the city for the night, giggling at the drama of the drunk’s around you. Soon he began to appreciate your choice of pizza, stealing pieces of your pineapple pizza when you weren’t looking.

He truly was the sweetest guy you ever met. Eddie managed to make you laugh when you felt like never laughing again. He made you feel valued. He made you feel important. When you were on the stage you found Eddie either right beside the stage or in the front row, cheering, screaming, as if you were the greatest rockstar on earth. And when he was on the stage his eyes were glued to your face wherever you were standing. He always found you, the rest of the crowd disappearing for him; there was nothing more important to him than to see your smile while he performed.

As a sign of love and affection he let you play with his lucky pick while you gave him your favorite lighter.

Time flew by, you and Eddie were literally glued together which started to annoy the rest of your bands. You weren’t spared the mocking and teasing comments of your cousins and even Eddie had to deal with bad jokes from his friends. Some weeks had passed, all your doubts and worries vanished and you enjoyed your time with Eddie. There were innocent touches, his hand brushing yours when you walked next to each other or crossed paths backstage between you performances, hugs whenever you were alone, he even held you hand under the table when you were at a restaurant with everyone else.

One evening you found yourself outside of the club for a smoke to calm down your nerves. During your band's performance there were a few dickheads trying to sabotage the gig, hollering insults and booing because they thought your band was crap. So you stood outside, the cool air of the night wrapped around your body and literally cooling down the racing thoughts that started to pull you down again. You took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke filling your lungs. As you inhaled the smoke, your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath for a moment before releasing a little cloud of tobacco smoke into the night sky. The buzz of pleasure combined with the slight flash of adrenaline and energy rushing through your body were slowly numbing your mind.

“That shit could kill you, you know?” The voice pulled you out of your trancelike state. You opened your eyes and turned your head just to find Eddie, sneaking up behind you out of the dark.

“So does life and yet here we are,” you taunted, shrugging your shoulders and taking another drag. “Aren’t you supposed to get on stage by now?”, you stated after taking a look at your watch.

“Yeah, but the security is currently busy with removing some shitheads that insulted my favorite person,” he declared casually and took away the cigarette that bounced between your lips. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you watched him taking a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs, before he handed you the cigarette.

“You didn’t -” you stated flabbergasted.

“Of course I did.”, he huffed, releasing the smoke, and looked down on you. “A behavior like that is not appropriate and should not be tolerated.”

You shook your head and took back your cigarette he offered back to you. “Moron,” you whispered and couldn’t contain your laughter.

“I’ll gladly be your moron,” he winked at you before returning back inside for his performance.

You stayed in Indianapolis for two more days after your show before moving on with your tour. Rick allowed you to take a short break there to relax and recover from the stressful tour life. And with Chad’s birthday right around the corner you and your other cousins decided to spend the whole day together, so you informed Eddie that you would be away for the day.

This day felt like childhood again, exploring the city, visiting a museum and going to a mall in the afternoon to shop for some new clothes. Later in the evening you wanted to celebrate Chad’s birthday at a pub, the only thing that didn’t feel like childhood.

Before you headed to the pub you wanted to change your clothes and freshen up a bit, maybe you could even say hi to Eddie since you hadn’t talked to him for the whole day. As you knocked on his hotel room door you were disappointed with silence. Maybe he was out with his friends too? You sighed and hurried into your room to change. But when you excitedly exited the elevator and caught a glimpse of Eddie, your heart skipped a beat and shattered into a million pieces. It was like a rope wrapped around your chest and with every breath and every heartbeat it got tighter and tighter, making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. Everything around you seemed to freeze, moving in slow motion as your eyes followed Eddie and the girl next to him.

Ouch.

He had slung his arm around her shoulder and as he leaned closer to whisper something into her ear, you could see the huge smile on his lips. Seeing them laughing and being pretty close felt like someone pierced your heart with a million daggers. Just when they disappeared into the elevator you were finally able to catch your breath again, nearly hyperventilating.

Like being stuck in a nightmare where you couldn’t wake up from, you couldn’t get the picture of Eddie and this beautiful light-brown haired girl out of your head. You didn’t know how long you stood there and stared at the place where Eddie and his groupie vanished into the elevator, but judging by the concerned expression on Dougs face you must’ve been in your trance for quite some time.

“Y/N?”, he asked multiple times and after you hadn’t shown a reaction to his attempts to catch your attention, he tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. “Hello?! Earth to Y/N?!”

This snapped you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“God, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked and shook his head. “We’re late, let’s go.” And with that you left the lobby.

Although you tried to distract yourself from the spiteful voices in your head and the images of Eddie and this girl doing whatever in his hotelroom, you were unsuccessful. Your mood was at its lowest and after Cliff noticed your discomfort and asked if you're alright, you tried to drink away this overthinking and obstinate voice inside of your mind.

Downing one drink after another, your mood finally started to light up. You danced, laughed and got drunk. After not even two hours you were completely wasted and your mind blacked out. You vaguely remembered seeing Eddie in the lobby as Chad brought you back to the hotel and that you threw a pillow at him, followed by some slurred insults. Luckily Chad could hold you back before you had the chance to jump at Eddie's throat. Whereas your drunken state probably would’ve made any attempt to jump at Eddie unsuccessful. As Chad dragged you into the elevator, you growled “Fuck off and leave me alone. Don’t you dare to ever talk to me again” after Eddie confusedly tried to find out what had happened.

Somehow you ended up in your bed with a bucket next to your nightstand, just in case.

A knock on your door woke you up eventually, but opening your sleepy eyes was a strenuous act. You tried to rub away the sleep from your eyes, as it knocked a second time.

“Good morning, princess,” Eddie’s voice came chirping from the other side of the door. “Wake up. It’s time to get up and get ready for the day!”

An exasperated groan escaped your throat and you looked at the door, wondering if you should just ignore him, tell him to fuck off, or give him a chance to explain himself for the sake of the tour.

As he knocked a third time, you sighed and squeezed your eyes, already regretting your decision.

“Do you have coffee?” You had no other choice, your tired mind and hungover body were desperately in need of caffeine.

“Open the door and find out!” he cooed and no one could have overheard the smug grin in his voice. He was still confused about what your encounter last night meant, but he hoped you just had been drunk. Most people he knew tend to become aggressive under the influence of alcohol, maybe you were one of them?

“God, a simple yes or no would have been enough.” Slowly you got out of bed and slipped in one of your hoodies.

Eddie was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you were too tempted by the prospect of a steaming hot coffee. So you dragged yourself to the door, unlocked it and carefully opened. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a mustache painted on his face, with what you suspected was eyeliner, and the desired cup of coffee in his hand. Unimpressed, you stared at him for a moment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he said with a bad french accent, seemingly trying to be funny, and wiggled his eyebrows, as if nothing had happened last night. You kept your unimpressed expression, even though this sight was kind of hilarious.

“I’m fucking mad at you,” you grabbed the cup and held it to your chest. “And that mustache looks ridiculous.”

“What? But what did I do?”, he protested.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Without further ado you closed the door again.

“Please, tell me what I did wrong and let me apologize.” Eddies voice was desperate as he begged you to explain to him what he did to upset you like this.

The warmth of the coffee spread through your body and life seemingly came back into your hurting limbs after you took a sip. Should you really enlighten him? Should you really give him a chance to apologize? You already gave him a chance, he fucked it up and now acted like he didn’t know what he did wrong. If he didn’t know what he did, how should you accept his apology? How could an apology be honest without even knowing what the problem was? If he didn't realize on his own what he had done wrong, how could he regret it and apologize?

That’s just not working.

And that made you furious. Driven by caffeine, anger and the residue alcohol in your system, you yanked the door open and glared at him. “You told me, yeah, you PROMISED me, you were different, not like the other rock stars who play with girls. You begged me to give you a chance to prove you really wanted to get to know me. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you,” you hissed through gritted teeth and put the cup of coffee down at the dresser next to the door precautionary before you accidentally spilled the much needed coffee.

At the sound of your tremulous voice Eddie lost his self confident composure and turned into a scared little child that was scolded by its parents. He looked at you with his incredibly lovely puppy eyes, something no one could resist. On one hand you felt bad for yelling at him, on the other hand, however, you were still boiling with anger.

“I’ve seen you,” you began, voice now softer. “I’ve seen you with this girl last night. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulder and took her with you into your room. How could I even believe that you were resistant to these horny groupies.” Eddie froze as you explained to him why you were so angry with him.

"I mean, she's absolutely beautiful, breathtaking. I can't really blame you, she's gorgeous. I would choose her over myself too, honestly -”

“Y/N,” Eddie interrupted you, his voice soft and … amused? “That’s Robin.” He was unexpectedly calm, nearly optimistic, and not like he was trying to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, great. At least you can remember her name,” you laughed hysterically. “Congratulations! Bonus points to Eddie fucking Munson. You’re right, you are indeed different from all those horny rockstars.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Even if you tried to hold back your hurt and anger, it wouldn’t have been successful. But letting it all out felt good, freeing. You looked at him, waiting for some lazy excuses, but he was just calm, like your accusations didn’t bother him. Was that a smile? Was he really smiling right now?

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. A moment that felt like eternity as you waited for his answer.

“Robin’s a lesbian.” Eddie tried to fight it, but it was a hopeless fight. The teasing grin tugging at his lips spread across his face.

“Oh … “ This caught you off guard. Your expression shifted from hurt to embarrassment, your hungover mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “Oh!” To hide your blushing cheeks you covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“She’s an old friend of mine. And since she lives here, I decided to meet her, ask her for some advice on how to win you over, you know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, really. I didn’t know - I just saw you and her and -” you apologized stuttering, ashamed you judged him too soon and unjustifiably screamed at him. A knot of guilt and remorse formed in the pit of your stomach as the realization sank in.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured you. “I never meant to upset you. I actually thought you were already out with your cousins.”

“I was on my way to meet them outside when I saw you with her,” you interfered.

He sighed and looked down on you, his expression softening with understanding.

“I never was good at talking to girls. To be honest, I’m awkward when it comes to flirting or talking with a girl I like. So I asked Robin if she could help me out. I wanted to do it right, you know? And not scare you away because I’m clumsy and weird since it was getting serious between us.” Eddie shook his head and huffed, seemingly amused about a memory that popped up.

“You know, I figured calling someone I like M’lady and stuff isn’t really what girls want.”

"Eddie, I'm so incredibly sorry, I really am," you apologized over and over again. The guilt seemed to eat you up inside.

“Please believe me, my love, and I’ll give you those things you thought unreal - the sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal,” he whispered, his rough hands cupping your face.

Even when everything would fall apart someday and the world burned down, all he would want was to hug you tight. There was nothing more important to him than you and his music - as long as you were with him, nothing could go wrong, you’ll be the light to guide him back home. He lost himself in the depths of your y/e/c irises, his heart beating violently in his chest. Just as you were about to say something he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss sparked something inside of you you’ve never felt before, something you never wanted to miss again in your life.

Out of breath you pulled away. Your mind was dizzy, but you were unsure if it was from the lingering effects of your hangover or the intensity of this moment, this overwhelming kiss.

“Come on, get ready and we’ll go out to get some breakfast,” he whispered, his smile was filled with warmth and affection - just pure adoration for the most wonderful woman in his life.

__________

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

[sehodreams]

love your works 🫶 do you think you could pretty please talk more about anton and the piss kink? 🙈

TW and Tags: PISS KINK, all consensual, fingering, p in v, shower sex, messy sex, just a ton of filthy stuff that if you don't enjoy, JUST DON'T READ.

Hahahaha sure babe 😂

I have something about it in my riize kink headcanons, but more here:

Also, please look at those fingers and think about them while reading.

I think it'd be a slow path for him to recognize he has it, it'd start with him making you squirt one night, he'd have probably stimulated you so much you felt something weird coming, and after his long fingers fucked you ruthlessly, you would've had your first squirt in your life. Of course you didn't know you could do that, and he never thought about it before neither, but seeing in person fired something inside him he didn't know he had. Then, he wouldn't be able to stop pulling orgasms and orgasms out of you, it'd be almost a need for him to make you squirt in his bed for him to feel satisfied, or even better, i can see him fucking you with his fingers even in public to get that squirt out of you, in his car, in an alley, even in a party in a place so secluded he'd grab your hand and make you run with him after making a mess down the floor. He'd lick his hand and love how you would end like a newborn deer trying to walk with trembling legs, he holding your shoulder and helping you get out without no one else noticing.

Not much after that the piss kink would come naturally to him, for example, I imagine you two drinking a lot one night, a nice date in an expensive restaurant, you wearing an outfit so pretty you don't want to mess it up, holding in the urges of peeing the whole night. The second you arrived at your apartment, he would take it off to make you feel good, like in every special date. Starting with his usual fingering routine, saying how pretty you looked, he'd slide his fingers in and out, feeling your insides a bit hotter than normal but thinking it was probably because of how much wine you had. However, soon he'd notice something different was about to happen, he just felt it coming, and you didn't expect it, you felt a painful sensation burning you but you thought it'd be just an intense squirt, not noticing the golden drops until they started to slide down his hand. You couldn't stop apologizing with tears falling down your eyes, "I'm so sorry Anton, I'm sorry", and he'd be pretty shocked at first, feeling the hot sensation over his hand, but then he'd kiss your temple and calm you down to not make you feel more embarrassed "it's okay princess, accidents happen".

He'd keep thinking about it though, how different it was, and how good it felt at the same time to see you crumble that way in front of his eyes. There's just something unique about it, the way you break apart and shame creeps your cheeks, he just can't forget how vulnerable you were that day. So, the next time, it wouldn't be an accident at all, he'd keep pushing drinks in you, this time not in a public place to take it slow with you and see what you thought, but seeing how much he needs it, you wouldn't be able to say no when, deliciously riding his cock, he asked you to pee over him.

It'd be weird the first times, like everything new you tried, you would hide your face, maybe you'd cry, but soon it'd feel so good he'd continue asking you for it and you'd always accept, until it became a normal part of your relationship.

Also, later it wouldn't be just you, it'd start with something small too, like asking you to watch him pee, to then pee on your feet before softly washing each other's bodies after an intense night, or maybe directly asking you to have shower sex so he could pee over your leg before/after fucking you against the cold wall.

[etoileholland]

You should consider putting your requests in the tags so that more people see it! For my request, how do you feel about some domestic slow dancing in the kitchen to soften the reader after a disagreement or hard day? Thank you!

Thank you so much for the request! I really hope you enjoy it 🥰

Lover

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

“How was your—”. Tom had asked when he heard you come in through the door, but before he could finish his sentence, he heard a loud thud from your bag hitting the hardwood floor, followed by a long sigh. He paid close attention to the sound of your feet shuffling across the floor, and noted when he heard you flop onto the couch.

“Was your day that bad?” He inquired. His question needed no response when all you could do was grab a pillow, hold it to your face and scream into it.

“This may have been the worst day of my life.” Your face was still pressed to the pillow, making your response muffled. You felt the pillow being removed from your face, and watched Tom place it to the side of you. He was silent, but looked at you with empathetic eyes.

“I was late to work because I narrowly missed the tube, and then ended up getting off on the wrong stop, so I had to run 10 blocks to my job.” Your response was hurried, and you had to inhale a sharp breath before continuing. “And then when I got to work, the annoying coworker from upstairs told me that I had a stain on my pants, and at first I didn’t believe him, you know? But then sure as shit, there was a blue stain on the back of my pants, and I have no idea where it came from.” You sighed. “I don’t even want to think about what it could be. And then my boss yelled at me for being late, and I almost burst into tears right in front of him.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you looked up to the sky in hopes that it would stop the tears from producing. Tom, not wanting to interrupt, placed his hand on top of your knee.

“But the story gets even worse.” You added with a sharp tone. “I forgot to bring lunch, so I ran across the street to this kabob place, only to find out that my card declined for literally no good reason. I know there’s money in the bank but my card was acting up so bad, and I didn’t have enough cash to pay for it.” By now, the tears were falling down your face, but you continued on with your story. “So I ended up holding up the line until this nice lady paid for my food, and she gave me such a pitiful look.” You tilted your head downwards, letting the tears fall. The sniffles from crying were becoming frequent, and you knew that if you were to try to talk again, you would become a blubbering mess. Luckily, your day was okay after that point, but the events that occurred made you feel embarrassed.

Tom waited to make sure that you were done talking, and after a minute of waiting, he leaned forward and wrapped you in a long hug. He burrowed his head in your neck, and held you so tight that you were convinced that if he were to let go, you’d crumble. He held you as you sobbed, and rubbed soft circles on your back. “It’s okay love, I’ll always be here to console you after a rough day.”

His kind words made you cry harder, and you knew that what he said was true. Tom always listened to you when you’d come home after a hard day at work, and you were eternally grateful for him and his seemingly endless patience and kindness.

“I don’t deserve you.” You whispered.

“You do.” He whispered back. “You deserve all the kindness in the world.”

As the minutes spent in Tom’s arms passed, you were feeling better. When you were calm, you pulled apart from Tom’s embrace and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you so much.” You said softly.

“I love you so much more.” He answered, not missing a beat.

“I bet I look a mess now, with my eyes all red and puffy.” You chuckled while cracking a smile.

“You still look beautiful, but I will admit the snot bubble coming out of your nose is not a cute look.”

You playfully smacked Tom on the arm and broke out into laughter. “Rude!” You jokingly exclaimed.

“What?” Tom questioned in a playful voice. “It’s true.” He knew that the best way for you to feel better was to poke fun at you, which proved to be successful yet again.

“I’ll go get cleaned up.” You stated as you left the couch and padded towards your shared bathroom.

“Sounds good, I’ll prepare dinner in the meantime.” Tom answered.

—

Tom’s love language was acts of kindness, which is why he always insisted on making dinner every night. He wasn’t the best chef, but it was the thought that counts.

Tonight was breakfast for dinner night, and since it only took a few minutes to prepare an omelette and pain perdu, he waited until you arrived to start cooking.

You loved watching Tom cook, so you quickly washed your face and made your way into the kitchen. Taking a seat on the countertop, you smiled at how serious he looked while cooking. His arm muscles flexed subtly as he whipped the egg mixture and dipped the bread into it, before placing the bread in the hot pan.

You really couldn’t have asked for a better person.

“It’s rude to stare.” Tom joked.

“Well I can’t help it when you look like that.” You remarked with a smirk. Tom’s mouth curled into a smile, and he leaned over to give you a soft yet quick kiss on the lips before resuming the cooking.

He always played music while he cooked or did chores, which was something you also did. He usually played one of his many playlists, but today he chose a playlist that has soft, romantic music.

A song you quickly recognized began to play, and your face softened. It was Lover by Taylor Swift—which is arguably one of the most romantic songs in our contemporary era. The beginning chords played, and you began to unconsciously sway to the music.

Tom, noticing your movement, turned off the stove and held his hand out to you. “Shall we dance, darling?” He inquired with a smile, and you grabbed his hand as he led you away from the stove. He placed his left hand on the small of your back, and held your right arm extended outward.

As the song played, you both swayed to the melody and waltzed around the kitchen. Tom held you close, his forehead resting against yours. He was so close you could feel his eyes fluttering closed, and his lips ghosted yours.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Tom tilted his head to kiss your lips, his touch soft and tender. He was such a gentle lover, and his affection was always so thoughtful. “You’re my lover.” He whispered to you, making you feel incredibly special.

“You’re my lover too, forever and ever.” You whispered back, breaking out into a giddy grin. “Thank you for always being there for me.” You leaned back just enough to see his face, and noticed how his gaze never left yours.

“I’ll be there for you, as long as you’ll have me.”

——

a/n: requests are open, so please send them in! And if you’d like to be included in my tag list, please message me ☺️

[tibbythetiger]

Hello, hello!! I’m back! I went and finally got to see the film in theaters (the first two times I watched it on Peacock)! I’m going to have a  direct continuation of my previous post!!

I feel like Mike and Ness get really close after the events of the movie. Like many people already HC, I think Ness is really invested in the mystery of Freddy’s. So when Mike suddenly quits and is literally ripped to shreds with Vanessa fucked up in the hospital, his theory senses are tingling. He doesn’t try to push Mike or Abby, even though it’s killing him to not know what is going on. While Mike is desperate to find a new job, he’s pretty much out of babysitters for Abby at this point. With Max dead, his Aunt out of commission, and Vanessa in the hospital, Ness graciously stands in for the others and ends up keeping Abby with him at the diner while Mike is job-hopping. 

Also, given the attack on their Aunt, they can’t stay in their house for a few weeks. Ness offers his tiny apartment to share, which prompts Ness and Mike to share a room, and well, after one night Mike and Ness both insist on sleeping on the floor, a bed as well. It’s super cute and domestic and it makes Mike yearn for a life like this. But, he’s still not quite ready to make a move on Ness; mostly because he’s still a little freshly traumatized by the events that just happened, but also because homeboy’s self-esteem is non-existent. Ness is still head over heels for Mike, but is trying to tone it down for the time being so he doesn’t freak Mike out. However, after about two weeks, when Abby crawls into bed with them both after a nightmare, Mike finally breaks down and tells Ness about what happened at Freddy’s.  He’s surprised when Ness just believes him. 

Once the bunny (ha) is out of the hat, Mike’s walls crumble a little bit more. Ness decides that this is the best time, and decides to plan a really cute night for the three of them. He makes them dinner and makes sure he has Abby and Mike’s favorite movies. It all goes fairly smoothly, Abby does end up eating most of her dinner, but Mike falls asleep part way through the first movie, and Ness ends up putting Abby to bed. When he’s in the hallway on his way back to Mike, he finds Mike there looking at him with a soft smile and he just leans in and kisses him. 

After that, they don’t really talk about it, but they’re just together from there. They’re not super out when they’re in public (mostly because it’s 2000, and we’re assuming this takes place in a mid-western state), but Abby understands that they’re together now. Nothing huge really changes between Mike and Ness, for the most part things stay the same. Ness still helps with Abby, they still have their lil movie/TV-watching sessions after Abby goes to bed. Where they used to awkwardly stay on opposite ends of the couch, they are cuddling now. (I agree with whoever said Mike is the little spoon because YES) It’s little kisses in the morning, holding hands when they’re able to get Abby from school together in the afternoons. 

Eventually, though Abby and Mike do move back into their house, this is mostly because, with Mike’s custody and house checks, they need to have more space in order to not tip off CPS that they’re gay. (Again, just basing this off the time period and the area we’re presuming this in, I could see the state using that against Mike) Ness still spends most nights at the house, and he has a toothbrush and drawer in Mike’s room.  

This is all I have for now!! Also, I’m not sure if I want their Aunt to be dead or just, have been attacked by Golden Freddy. I feel like it could have gone either way in the movie, and I think that it would probably make more sense for her to just be dead. I’m going to try and write more general HCs for these two tomorrow! Again, if someone wants to write this out as an actual fic, please feel free to do so! Just be sure to tag me so I can make sure I can read your work!

[barclaysangel]

A Siren’s Embrace; Chapter 5: Connection of the Sea

Here's chapter 5, y'all! Aaaand the last chapter for now because I haven't finished chapter 6. My brain is all over the place, doing homework, starting my masters program in less than 3 weeks, AND got a new sapphic story idea that involves witches. So...yeah. I'm a mess. Buuuuut, hopefully you guys like this chapter. It's more angsty than the other chapters and once again, I projected so much of myself and my family life into Nika and her family. So things that are said near the end are things that happened in my real life. It's fine, I'll live. But please comment, comments make me feel happy and I hope to one day get back into this story because I do have ideas for further chapters, I just can't figure out a proper ending. I still hope y'all like this story though.

Thank you and enjoy :)

Word count: 2K

Tags: @streets-in-paradise @king-of-wicked

Nika’s world was falling apart. 

At least that’s what it felt like to her. 

Her world felt like it was slowly dissipating, crumbling, going to turn to dust and vanish at any given moment. She knew her parents loved her, wanted the best for her and all. But if she had to hear about how she needed to get her shit together and figure out what she wanted to do in life one more time, she’s going to explode. 

Whether that be in rage or depression was unclear and would end up being a surprise to Nika and everyone around her. 

She knew she should figure out what the hell she wanted to do. But for fuck’s sake, she just graduated high school. Nika’s going to a community college close by to figure out what she wanted to major in, what she felt connected to because high school certainly didn’t create any connections. But she knows her father would prefer it if she figured it out now and went straight into a university. 

But…she couldn’t. Nika didn’t know what she wanted to do yet, she was barely 18 years old. She just needed some time to figure it out before condemning herself to a path where she would feel complacent or self-loathing. 

Is that really too much to ask? 

“Nika?” Pearl said her name, snapping the human out of her thoughts, a small look of concern in her sea green eyes. “Okay? You are quiet. Sad. Why are you quiet and sad?” 

Nika put on a smile and shook her head. “Sorry, I’m just distracted. I’m okay, you don’t need to worry. I’m not sad.” 

“Yes you are,” Pearl replied quickly as she stared so deeply at Nika, “I can feel it. Your sadness. It is strong. I feel your sadness.”

Is it possible for mermaids to just feel what you’re feeling? She wondered silently. Maybe. There was still so much that Nika didn’t know about humans yet, she wouldn’t entirely be surprised. Sometimes it felt like Pearl was staring so deep into the human’s soul, discovering all of her deepest and darkest secrets. 

It must be an effect that the mermaid has on her, that’s all. 

Nika didn’t say anything for a moment, her mouth opening and then closing before just shaking her head as she looked away. “I’ll be okay. Really. It’s…hard to explain anyway, you really don’t need to worry about it.” 

“I worry,” Pearl said, once again without any hesitation, “you are sad. You are in pain. In here,” She pressed a wet finger to Nika’s chest, right where her heart is, “and in here.” Her finger moved to the center of the human’s forehead. 

She didn’t really know what to say at first, looking away again until the mermaid rested her hand on her shoulder. “Speak to me…please?” 

Something about Pearl was truly persuasive, even when there was no siren song used. There was something gentle about her touch, the look in her eyes, that felt like maybe, just maybe, she could understand. 

“It’s…hard. To talk about. To explain. No one else really understands except my friends but…it’s not fair to burden them with these problems. My parents…they’re tough. Sometimes too tough. I’m their only child and they want the best for me but…it’s too much. It feels like I can’t breathe around them. It…it feels like I’m drowning.” 

Pearl tilted her head slightly. “You are not drowning. I saved you.”

Nika couldn’t help but to smile a little, despite how she was feeling at the moment. “Not drowning literally. Just…feeling. In here and here,” she pointed to her own chest and head, “it feels like I’m drowning and I can’t breathe. It’s too much and they just don’t get it. They don’t see it. I…I don’t think they ever will. I just…I feel so alone here…” 

The human didn’t even know why she was unloading like this in front of Pearl. The mermaid would truly never understand those pressures and there was nothing that could be done. Nothing would change, Nika had accepted it a long time ago. Didn’t make it hurt any less, but it was something she just needed to get over. 

Yet here Pearl was, frowning, looking as if she was upset on Nika’s behalf. Like she had been the one who was wronged. Finally, the mermaid spoke, “I have a gift for you. Stay, please?” The human barely had time to nod before Pearl flung herself into the ocean. 

Maybe you freaked her out. Congrats, stupid, you weirded out a mermaid with your pathetic family issues. She thought to herself and she ran both of her hands over her face and up through her hair, trying to block out the pessimistic voice. 

Nika took a few deep breaths to push back the tears that were threatening to expose themselves in her eyes before the green-eyed mermaid came back, her blue tail swishing in the water, and holding out a rather large conch shell to the human. 

This wasn’t Pearl’s first gift of seashells at all. She had given her many that now reside in Nika’s room, all of which she had claimed to her parents that she found from her recent trips to the beach. But this was certainly the largest one, barely fitting in both of the mermaid’s hands. 

Huh…receiving gifts must be Pearl’s love language.

“Oh, Pearl…it’s beautiful,” Nika said softly before carefully taking the conch shell from her, holding it in her own hands, “you didn’t need to give this to me.”

“I did.” Pearl replied before she pulled herself onto the rock, sitting right beside the human with their shoulders now touching. “Shell is strong. Shiny. Beautiful. You are strong. Shiny. Beautiful. You are my seashell.”

Nika wasn’t quite sure what Pearl meant by the last part, but either way, it made her heart flutter from the compliments. She was sure that this was the mermaid’s way to try and cheer her up and in a way, it worked. 

She really did appreciate the sentiment, even if it was a bit out of the ordinary. 

Oh, what the hell, she was friends with a fucking mermaid. It’s been out of the ordinary for a long time. 

“Thank you. Really. I…I appreciate it,” Nika said with a soft smile as she held the conch close to her, “I’m at my happiest whenever I see you. You just…make me feel better.” 

Her confession caused Pearl to smile more and got a certain glint in her eyes, as if she had decided on something. “I will see you more. I will make you happy.” 

The human didn’t have time to question her on that before she realized how late it was and that she needed to go home soon, promising Pearl that she would try and see her again tomorrow. 

Nika almost wished that she hadn’t gone home when she did arrive, because the questions on her whereabouts were thrown again. 

“I went to the beach. I wanted to get some fresh air, it’s gonna be weird not going to school for a while.” She threw out her excuse to them, thankful that having overprotective parents caused her to be pretty decent when it came to lying. 

“You’ve been going out to the beach so often, Annika” Her mother started to tell her, “you need to be more careful. Maybe you should be staying inside some more, especially with what happened to Erickson recently.” 

Nika knew exactly what her mother was referring to. Erickson was an old and irritating man, someone who often spent his time harassing preteen girls and throwing his beer bottles or other garbage into the ocean. Nika would clean up after him whenever she saw his trash and throw them away properly. She was never fond of him but since they lived close by, she just tried to steer clear from him and pay him no mind. 

It would be a lot easier now since Erickson’s body was found just a couple of days ago on the shores of the beach. Well, rather what was left of him. From what Nika had heard, he had been mauled apart. She had to sneak around to the other side of the beach to see Pearl because of all the caution tape around and trying to investigate the scene. 

“Erickson was a drunk who probably decided to go swimming in the middle of the ocean and got attacked by a shark. Or maybe some other wild animal, who knows,” She told both of her parents with a nonchalant look on her face, “I’m very careful whenever I go, okay? I don’t go too far into the ocean when I go surfing or swimming. Really, I’m not going to die.”

Let’s just forget about the part where you did drown when you went surfing and only survived because of a mermaid, they certainly didn’t need to know about that.

“That doesn’t matter, you need to be more careful. I don’t even know what you do at the beach, you should be doing more exercise so you can lose weight.” Her father told her suddenly, even pointedly staring at her stomach. 

If Nika could scream from the top of her lungs without facing any repercussions, she absolutely would at that very moment. 

If she had a dollar for every fucking time her father or both her parents mentioned her weight in a negative manner, she would’ve skipped town, left Neptune Bay in the rearview mirror, because she’d be a fucking billionare. 

Nika wasn’t skinny. If she thought hard about it, she hadn’t been skinny since she was in kindergarten. She was chubby but she tried to not let it bother her. She tried to own up to her curves and find the beauty within herself, the beauty that Jay and Lucy point out all the time. 

But then her parents’ open their mouths with their opinions and all that self-confidence goes straight down the drain. 

Don’t you see what you’re fucking doing to me? You’re killing me. You’re. Fucking. Killing. Me. I want to hurt myself because of you, don’t you understand that? Just fucking look at me and understand that you make me hate myself!

Despite her boiling emotions, Nika didn’t say a word. She forced a smile like she always did, pretending to let her father’s comments roll down her back, and walked into her room. 

Her self-hatred bubbled inside of her, wanting so badly to cry. To hurt herself. Scratch and punch her stomach like she sometimes did when the words became too much. But this time, Nika held it in. She pulled the conch shell from her bag, holding it close to her chest as if it was a teddy bear, and rocked herself slightly as she sat on her bed. 

Strong. Shiny. Beautiful. That’s what Pearl said I am. Strong. Shiny. Beautiful. Maybe she sees something in me that no one else has seen before and we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. To her, I’m strong and shiny and beautiful. Pearl makes me feel happy and special. 

Nika tried to hang onto those words that the mermaid said to her. She ate less than usual for dinner and was more quiet, faking laughs and conversations to avoid suspicion, but that was all. Just enough for her parents to not get on her case again. 

She kept it all inside until she went to bed, clutching onto her precious pearl necklace and cried her heart out. Nika let her tears soak her pillow, fully prepared to cry herself to sleep like she’s done plenty of times before. 

Although she couldn’t quite fall asleep. She woke up multiple times throughout the knife, experiencing random pains throughout her body, most prominent in the lower half. Nika’s legs twitched against her will, feeling like the inside was twisting and bending. It was worse than the typical soreness she’d feel when her father forced her to go hike with him. 

She didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

Maybe she was experiencing some psychosomatic symptoms of anxiety again, but they were surely different this time. 

Eventually, exhaustion took over and Nika finally fell asleep, hoping for a better day tomorrow. 

[lonelychicago]

seven sentence sunday

thanks for the tags, loves @messyhairdiaz @cowboy-buddie @hippolotamus @alyxmastershipper @shortsighted-owl @buddiearemydads @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks

"My ribs are probably bruised and my head is hurting but other than that I'm fine, I swear." Buck coughs and winces. "Go help someone else who needs it. I'll just wait here." 

"Nice try, bud." Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're stuck with me. I'm not letting you out of my sight." 

The blonde is right, though— His ribs are definitely bruised, they're stiff and tender to the touch and that's alarming, sure, but not life threatening. He has a small gash on his head and blood falls from his hairline and down his cheek but when Eddie looks at it up close it's not even that deep and it doesn't even need stitches. 

Buck winces, jerking away on reflex when Eddie prods it gently. "I'm worried about a concussion and your ribs are most definitely bruised. You're not getting out of going to the hospital."

Buck looks up at him and then at his building crumbled down— "Yeah well, buys me some time at least."

"What do you mean?" 

"My home just fell apart, Eddie. I'm gonna need to—"

"You're staying with me." Eddie states as if it doesn't need any discussion. As if there ever was a doubt.

Your home is with me and Chris, anyway. He wants to say. 

"Eddie." Buck's eyes get wide and glassy and it's that look he gets, the 'every time someone shows me they want me around it's a little hard to believe' look and Eddie's heart clenches inside his heart. 

"Look, we'll talk about it later, once they check you out more thoroughly at the hospital." Eddie says. "But you're staying with me, Buck. I've got your back, right? That's the deal." 

tagging: @fatedbuddie @honestlydarkprincess @buddierights @comaboybuck @ebdaydreamer @loveyourownsmiilee @bigfootsmom @swiftiebuckleys @prettyboybuckley @maygrantgf @lesbianmaygrant @destielbuddiepipeline @the-likesofus @elvensorceress and anyone else who wants to!!

[partiallypearl]

'cause i can't turn to you when it all falls apart - a rhogan fic

a/n: apparently i have no self control. as evidenced here, i have somehow managed to write a logan x rhuben fic?? idk man i just be doing things. no trigger warnings specified, but this fic centers around jealousy and anxiety over losing a friend. @raging-violets hope this is somewhat enjoyable lol! also tagging @ceruleanmusings and @happinessismagicc @myloveforhergoeson

heavily inspired by when it all falls apart by the veronicas

Everything is F'ed up straight from the heart Tell me what do you do, when it all falls apart Gotta pick myself up where do I start 'cause I can't turn to you when it all falls apart

Rhuben wanted nothing to do with this. It was selfish, she knew but watching Camille and Logan fawn over each other for the entire day as they walked around The Last Bookstore - an independent bookstore that Camille had seen in a magazine, wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. 

But she had a soft spot for the brunette boy, and he knew it. “Please Bella?” He had asked and like always, she crumbled. He was nervous about hanging out with Camille one on one, he had explained, and having Rhuben there would make it less stressful. 

Now, she was deeply resenting her choices as she sat and watched him flirt with Camille. 

The two of them flirted, handing each other books that they felt matched the other’s personality, neither one paying any attention to Rhuben, who was the awkward third wheel. 

But could she be a third wheel if they didn’t even realize she was still there? The thought of that made her nauseous. 

“I have to go pick up Sydney.” She said, standing up, finally gaining Logan’s attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Logan frowned, stepping back from Camille, and following Rhuben out of the bookstore. 

“You okay?” He asked, and Rhuben scoffed. “I’m fine Logie. Go back to your date.” 

Logan’s brow furrowed. “It’s not-it’s not a date. I thought you said that you didn’t have anything to do today? That’s why you said you could come with us.” 

“Plans change mate.” Rhuben replied simply, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. Logan’s eyes didn’t leave her. 

“Are you sure? We can go to the Grove. It’s less than 30 minutes away.” 

“No Logan.” Rhuben said, her voice snapping. “I do not want to hang out with you and your girlfriend at the mall. I need to go pick up my little brother. Just drop it god!” 

Her outburst was louder than expected, and Logan’s reaction made her cringe internally. 

He shifted back slightly, like he was scared of her hitting him. She could see him realizing his actions and crossing his arms over his chest - one of his tell tale signs of anxiety. 

“Fine. If you want to talk or… whatever. Let me know.” He said, looking her up and down before walking away. 

She swallowed slowly, her eyes brimming with tears before she shook her head. She wasn’t going to cry over a boy. 

She hadn’t done so in the past, and she wasn’t starting any time soon. 

% 

Avoiding Logan was surprisingly harder than Rhuben anticipated. 

Logically, she knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task - since so much of her life was tied into her music and subsequently whatever shenanigans BTR was up to for the day. 

Plus, with Riley and Kendall being…. whatever they were now, Rhuben often found herself accompanying her sister over to the Palm Woods so she could hang out with the boys. 

Case in point, she was currently in apartment 2J, watching as Carlos attempted to eat corn dog after corn dog while Riley was somewhere off with Kendall - either pashing him or wishing that she was. 

Rhuben rolled her eyes as Carlos choked and began coughing. 

“I told you that I didn’t think that was a smart idea mate.” She told him, and after he was able to swallow, he gave her a toothy grin. “I’m fine Rhubes.” 

She shook her head, turning her attention back to her phone, scrolling back and forth between her texts and her photo gallery. A photo of her and Logan as little kids caught her eye. 

It was a blurry photo, probably taken by Logan’s mum. The two of them were in his bedroom, dressed in pyjamas. Their arms were wrapped around each other in a fierce hug as they grinned at the camera. 

She had found the photo a few months prior in one of the few photo albums that Robert hadn’t destroyed. She had taken a photo of it on her phone, not wanting to loose it. Now, she was just sitting there, staring at it.

Before she could ruminate on that further, the front door to 2J opened, and Logan and Camille came in, lips locked in an intense kiss.

Carlos snorted before wolf whistling, and Rhuben rolled her eyes as it took a moment for the couple to realize they weren't alone.

"Sorry," Logan said breathlessly, his face covered in Camille's signature red lipstick. Camille had a blooming hickey on the side of her neck.

"Having fun mate?" Rhuben asked, doing her best to keep the hurt out of her voice. It was ridiculous, she knew that, being jealous of them for no real reason. Camille giggled, wiping her mouth. "Y'know how it is."

Rhuben raised an eyebrow before nodding slowly. "Yeah. Sure. I'll see you later Carlos."

"Are you sure?" He asked, and she nodded, giving Logan one final look. He looked at her as well, and she walked out without a second thought.

%

For the rest of the week, Rhuben did her best to stay away from Logan. She avoided the apartment, the studio and even the Palm Woods as a whole.

She was being unfair and she knew it. But she’s never been good at emotional regulation and she knows if her and Logan talk about this, everything she’s feeling will spill right out.

The soft ba dum of her AIM account gets her attention as she sits at her computer. She looks up at the screen, biting down on her lip when she sees that Logan’s typing before his first message pops up.

Dr.Logan: are you mad at me?

KangaRhubes: what makes you think that?

Dr.Logan: idk, the fact that you aren’t speaking to me? or that youve been avoiding everywhere that i usually see you?

KangaRhubes: not everything is about you logiebear

Dr.Logan: well this feels like it is

KangaRhubes: it’s fine logan. just go have fun with camille or whatever.

Dr.Logan: is that what this is about? me hanging out with camille? bella, i thought you were okay with me dating her?

KangaRhubes: i am.

Dr.Logan: then why are you being so weird about us together?

Rhuben sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she typed before erasing the message. She sat there for a moment before replying.

KangaRhubes: i just don’t like being a third wheel.

Dr.Logan: third wheel? when were you third wheeling?

Rhuben snorted, rolling her eyes.

KangaRhubes: the entire day at the bookstore mate? look, i get it, you wanna hangout with your new gf. that’s fine, but don’t abandon our friendship bc of it

She logged off just as she saw Logan begin to type a response.

“God.” She mumbled under her breath, smoothing her hands over her face.

%

“You’re mad at me.” Logan said and Rhuben rolled her eyes, turning away from him.

Her best friend, could she even call him that at the moment, grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn back to face him.

“Let go of me.” She said harshly and he obliged, still continuing to speak. “I know it. But you won’t tell me why.”

“You don’t need to know everything Logan.” She told him flatly, and he scoffed. “I think I do. Especially when my best friend ignores my AIM messages for four days in a row. Seriously Bella. What’s going on? Is it your meds? Your treatment plan?”

Rhuben rolled her eyes, scoffing. “God. I’m so glad that Dr. Logan is here to diagnose me right now!”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah well your help sucks ass.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall. They stood there in silence before she finally spoke again.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m mad?” Logan nodded and Rhuben barrelled on.

“You invite me to a date with you and Camille. You act as if she’s the only important thing in your life. And then,” she stepped closer to him, poking a manicured purple nail into his chest, “only when I start pulling away and giving you space, you notice that I am not around as much. Do you know how unwanted that makes me feel?”

He doesn’t say anything in response and Rhuben looks down at her converse, her chest heaving and her hands shaking.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said, and she looked up at him. Brown eyes meet blue. He went to grab her hand and she stepped back, shaking her head.

“I fucked up. I know that.” He said , and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re my best friend Bella.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She replied, looking away again. “Feels like I’m just who you call when you’re too scared to make a move on the girl you really want.”

And it’s the most honest that she had been with Logan recently. Logan nodded, his hands swaying at his side. She watched him for a second before speaking.

“I just…I need some space. From you, and Camille.”

She could see the hurt flash upon his face for a split second before he schooled his expression. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

“Okay.” Rhuben said, her eyes welling up with tears. They stood there in silence for a long moment, neither of them speaking before she sighed and pulled him into a hug.

She buried her face in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist. They weren’t okay. They probably wouldn’t be after all this.

But right now, she still had her best friend. For as long as she could hold onto him.

[tabswrites]

The Birth of Eternity

Magic System Notes: Part 1

A/N: These posts are largely going to be used as a reference for those who ask about the magic system in Guardians of Eternity/Tomb of Light. I am deliberately keeping this as vague as possible to avoid spoilers, and some of the finer details might change!

ToL tag list: @writernopal @outpost51 (please ask to be +/-)

Also tagging @writingmaidenwarrior, this is Part 1 of my answer to your question! Do not feel like you have to read all of this, I can give you a summary :)

In order for me to explain the magic system in ToL, you need to know where magic came from. It started with a flash of light…

There once was a falling star that collided with Earth. This was the time before man, when the only living beings still lived in the sea. Upon impact, the meteor transformed the world around it, bringing to life strange plants and creatures familiar to the meteor, but foreign to its new world. The meteor’s physical form slowly eroded and crumbled, becoming one with the rocks and sediment, but below that grew a mass of pure, self-sustaining light. It could feel the ways that nature communicated–the roots of the trees, the intangible chemical signals passed back and forth. It learned to speak the language of the earth, and after thousands of years absorbing its knowledge, grew strong. Then, the first humans arrived.  

The Light observed man, determined to uncover the secrets of the strange life forms that had evolved free of its influence. For hundreds of thousands of years, they were simple, singularly focused beings not worth its time–until civilizations began to form. Watching the humans struggle amongst themselves to create order and structure, the Light drew two conclusions.

Man was unpredictable and dangerous.

Man could always be swayed with the promise of something new.

As the world continued to evolve, the Light feared for its future. Man’s curious nature left it in a constant state of panic, as it was unsure how man would react were they to discover its power. They tore apart nature as they saw fit and the Light was unsure it would be spared from man’s wrath. It chose to reach out to them, learning to speak to them through sounds and images rather than chemical signals. It discovered that man, always reaching towards something new, was incomplete, sad and hollow–so it chose to make them whole by giving them their own light called an Aura. The Light transformed man into formidable beings with great power, allowing them to shape the world any way they wished. As more years passed, they realized the magic was there to stay, along with its source, and man chose to give it a name: Eternity.

Eternity had intended to share its Light as a peace offering, to begin a symbiotic relationship where the humans would protect it in exchange for power. It thought that by making them whole, they would no longer need to search so desperately for the next best thing. Unfortunately, during all that time spent observing mankind, Eternity was oblivious to man’s innate darkness and was blind to their greed. It chose to be more selective in choosing the recipients of its Light, forcing humans to face their darkness. If they remained pure and good in the presence of their worst memories and fears, they were deemed worthy and became Auras. Those whose souls were tainted and irredeemable were turned away.

With the human population rapidly growing, Eternity once more feared for its future. It sent its strongest creatures, the Ursus Ornata, to guide the worthy to the Light. Those who proved to have the strongest hearts were chosen to be its Sentinels, shielding it from man’s greed and helping it grow with the rest of the world. Eternity still feared the Auras would fall victim to the corruption around them and made a decision to create the Shadows–granting power to humans who walked between the light and the dark and remained incorruptible. The Sentinels would watch over Eternity, Eternity would watch over the Auras, and the Shadows watched both.

This was the natural order of things on earth, until a Rameau betrayed a Rothe and changed the world forever. 

[wyrd-syster]

I was tagged by @bad-surprise, thanks my friend!!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, do not be shy and share anyway.

I cheated and did 11 because I wanted to include my two current WIPS :)

1. “Before Celeborn died, Galadriel had not been afraid of the dark.” From oh, can’t you hear that scratching? (there’s something at the door) (Rings of Power, Haladriel, Rated-E)

2. “The world had stopped being a place of mystery and magic to him some time ago.” From dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone) (Rings of Power, Haladriel, Rated-E)

3. “They had been riding west for only a handful of hours when it dawned on Galadriel that Elvish medicines would only do Halbrand any good if he survived the journey to reach them.” From when there’s nothing but dark and sound (I will be beside you) (Rings of Power, Human!Haladriel, Rated-T)

4. “Shadows chased them through the ruins of the Southlands.” From take what the water gave me (oh my love, don't forsake me) (Rings of Power, Human!Haladriel, Rated-M)

5. “Lila Pitts never considered herself a lightweight when it came to liquor. But nearly fives months of abstinence made lushes of even the most ardent drinkers.” From be all my sins remembered (The Umbrella Academy, Diego Hargeeves x Lila Pitts, Rated-M)

6. “In the great tales told by the Gleemen, no one ever mentioned what great bloody work was required after the fighting was done. The songs liked to focus on the heat of battle – the whispering cut of a blade amongst the din of screams, the arc of blood like rubies in the sun, the great fallings and risings of men in the name of glory. No one talked about what needed to be done with the bodies left behind.” From like a raging sun (The Wheel of Time, Lanaeve, Rated-T)

7. “This was a stupid fucking idea. Lila knew that with absolute certainty, knew it like the way she knew how to tie her shoes, to read a line in the paper, to shoot a gun; something once practiced and painstakingly difficult, but now came to her as if second nature. And even if it had been her idea to begin with, it had been so much easier to tackle in the abstract. Now that it was right in front of her, doubt crept in, crumbling the high walls of her confidence.” From we couldn't bring the columns down (my sweetest downfall) (The Umbrella Academy, Diego Hargeeves x Lila Pitts, Rated-G)

8. “Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom in a far off land, where the sun was always golden yellow and the sky a deep and endless blue, there ruled a benevolent King and Queen.” From save what has been lost (what once was mine) (The Umbrella Academy, Diego Hargeeves x Lila Pitts, Rated-T)

9. “For once in his entire life, Diego didn’t mind staying late at the Academy, had no desire to run back to his lonely home, and had no urge to leave his family. They had arrived in the foyer - miraculously upright, clean and sturdy as if it had never been demolished - and someone had suggested the need for a drink and well, after the past few days (months, really) he had to agree that a drink sounded like a good idea.” From oh sinnerman (where you gonna run to?) (The Umbrella Academy, Diego Hargeeves x Lila Pitts, Rated-M)

10. “There are a number of reasons Galadriel Noldor adores her apartment; the well-loved, two-rooms-and-den, price-controlled gem that includes water and gas and – most importantly – no roommates.” From an unposted WIP (Rings of Power, Haladriel Neighbors!AU, Rated-E)

11. “One can hardly see the moon through the thick fog rolling off the canals.” From an unposted WIP (Rings of Power, Haladriel dark!fic, Rated-E)

Tagging: @orcas86, @avennger, @myrsinemezzo, @scriberated, @ichabodjane, @goodqueenalicunt, @rebelrebelwrites, @formerlyir, @bimmyou, @mortaltempless