#some of u should be behind bars for life and only are out in a technicality🖕

[poppyseed-cookie]

(In honor of 1,000 notes, here’s the story behind this post)

Haha it’s a little roleplay au. I’ll explain it since u asked, it’s actually a lot less focused on the art I showed than you’d think. Warning, it’s all beast x ancient (this is a shadowvanilla post so I doubt that’s much of a problem for ppl but in case yall don’t like the other bxa ships)

Soo, for whatever mysterious reason, the Ancients get transported back in time to before the Beasts were corrupted. Millennial Tree, having powers of Time and all, noticed this happened, and said “okay, don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get you guys back to when you’re supposed to be. As long as you don’t create or destroy any life, I should be able to fix the timeline, so just hang out and have fun or whatever until I figure out how to get you guys back”

So the Ancients are just like “cool vacation in prehistoric times ig (we call them prehistoric times cuz technically the history of these times is practically all erased lol)” so they just tour around and see what the Beasts were like in the past as Virtues.

First off, we don’t have Silent Salt lore, so White Lily just went “awesome I love studying things that cookies shouldn’t normally be able to” and just completely wandered off doing her research on literally everything and they just don’t see her 😭 ngl I keep imagining she’s going to Solidarity Salt’s Concerts for some reason I can’t make this canon I don’t think they held concerts why would they be a singer I shouldn’t even be typing this I haven’t even told my sister (the one I rp this with) this stupid idea

ANYWAYS… Golden Cheese just goes sight seeing, not wanting to get into any trouble. Hollyberry wants to go see the Garden, but immediately gets distracted by visiting all the bars she can find and tasting all the prehistoric drinks. Pure Vanilla enrolls into the Fount of Knowledge’s school because he just wants to see what his teachings were like. Dark Cacao… the real story begins with him.

Dark Cacao saw that cookies lined up to get their wishes granted by Master Flour Cookie. He figured, since that’s his beast and all, he should go and see what it’s like. So he stood in line and eventually got to her. She asked him what his wish was, and then he realized he stood in line that WHOLE time not having a wish. He said “uhhh I just came here because I wanted to see you”. Master Flour’s not really sure what to do about that one. It feels really awkward so Dark Cacao asks her what her favorite food is. She answers, and he wishes for some of it, which she grants, but only for him to tell her to have it. He remembered that cookies weren’t very nice to the Beasts from what he could gather, so he figured he’d do something a little nice for her. Then he left.

Master Flour Cookie was stunned. A cookie shows up with only the desire to see her? And wishes she would give herself a treat? She’d never had a cookie be so kind and selfless to her. She goes to the other Virtues and tells them about this mysterious cookie that warmed her heart, and Sugar of Happiness immediately encourages her to pursue this feeling of happiness. Master Flour’s not sure if she can, but the other Virtues, especially Sugar of Happiness and Fount of Knowledge, offer their help.

So Dark Cacao is just walking around when suddenly the Sugar of Happiness swoops down from the skies, picks him up, and flies him over to the Ivory Pagoda. Scariest moment of his life. Once he’s there he discovers that Master Flour Cookie is interested in him. Romantically. Oh no no no. How could this happen??? This is the beast of APATHY. It’s so unnatural to see her this flustered… she’s not supposed to like anyone!! But what’s Dark Cacao gonna do? Break her heart? Nope.

So when he gets back to his Ancient friends he explains the situation. They’re all shocked. “What did you do to make Mystic Flour fall in love with you??” but when he explains what he did, they all go “OH MY GOSH UNMATCHED RIZZ!!!! DUDE YOU TOTALLY RIZZED HER UP!!!! THAT WAS SMOOTH!!!!” He doesn’t believe it except he has to believe it because why else is he in this situation. Also I can’t forget to mention that the Fount of Knowledge approached Dark Cacao, circled around him, nodded, and left at one point which also terrified him. (Fount was analyzing him to figure out what sort of things he likes to help Master Flour out in her dating escapades)

Now let’s have a look at Pure Vanilla. It’s VERY IMPORTANT to note, that, this au is based on my roleplay, and in that roleplay, Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP. So, he enrolled into school to see what his Present boyfriend was like in the Past. He’s been studying at the Blueberry Milk Academy, and enjoying it for the most part… but there was one thing that ruined it for him. And that was the other students in his class. They didn’t enjoy the Fount’s more creative ways of teaching (especially the songs they were forced to learn) and would sometimes talk during lessons. Pure Vanilla would sometimes snap at his classmates if they were disrupting the Fount’s lessons, and was always very encouraging of the Fount’s creative lessons. He always spoke many praises of the teacher and how he’s proud of him for doing such a good job teaching the class.

This is also where his classmates ruin the experience for him. He didn’t have many friends. That’s because… there was a rumor about him going around class. A rumor that he was crushing HARD on the teacher. His classmates were all very disturbed by this and constantly told him “dude the Fount of Knowledge isn’t gonna screw you” and he kept insisting that was NOT his goal, he’s NOT into the Fount, he just really enjoys class. Yet his excellent grades didn’t help the rumors. He was basically the “teachers pet” except nobody called him that especially because it felt more like he wanted the TEACHER to be HIS pet. Pure Vanilla is absolutely stunned at these rumors. Like, sure that’s his future boyfriend, but he wasn’t trying to do anything!!! Just school!!!

For a while, it’s just rumors and a lack of friends. But eventually, the Fount starts to see the evidence pile up that his top student Likes him. He doesn’t know how to react, and confides in his fellow Virtues that one of his students seems into him. A very good, kind, and attentive student. Seeing as they all got Master Flour a boyfriend, they immediately encourage Fount to pursue this as well. No one had ever treated the Fount as lovingly as Pure Vanilla, so he went along with this idea, not receiving any help since he can already see Pure Vanilla during the day and he also hates admitting when he’s not sure what to do so of course he wouldn’t ask for any further help.

So one class, the Fount nervously asks to see Pure Vanilla after class. He’s surprised by this but is like “ok”. His classmates are STUNNED. “Surely not…” they think. After class it’s just Fount and PV. Fount gets really flustered and says “so, um, d-do you want to, um- NEVER MIND!!!” and he tries to run away but trips and almost cries from embarrassment. Pure Vanilla is nice about it and tries to make sure he’s ok. PV gets the message and gently accepts Fount’s offer, careful not to scare him off. Sooo now they’re a thing.

Also yes, Dark Cacao and Master Flour are dating. He didn’t want to break her heart. He has tried coming up with excuses for why it wouldn’t work out but she grants wishes bro she has the power of Volition SHE CAN MAKE IT WORK. He refuses to say “I’m not interested” so there’s nothing he can do (but is he really not interested…?).

Pure Vanilla tells his Ancient friends that he’s dating the Fount of Knowledge now. They are not surprised, except for the fact that TWO of them are now dating Virtues. At least THIS time Pure Vanilla was ACTUALLY already dating the guy in the present…

Seeing as this post is focused on purefount y’all probably want me to go into more detail about that. They’ve had a lot of developments and gotten really close, the Fount of Knowledge lets Pure Vanilla call him Blueberry Milk now and he’s learned things that he didn’t know about Shadow Milk. Blueberry Milk is willing to be so open to Pure Vanilla in part BECAUSE he has this strange sense that the two of them have a far deeper connection than normal cookies, not realizing they are actually soulmates.

In terms of close calls like the post, Blueberry Milk DID absolutely scare the life out of Pure Vanilla by asking “oh by the way, I don’t recognize the fields you grew up in! Where is that? Oh, right, forgot to mention, I looked into your memories 😊” Pure Vanilla considers himself very lucky that he seems to have ONLY looked into his childhood, which doesn’t have any super incriminating evidence of being a time traveler with a soul jam, (Blueberry Milk was only curious WHERE Pure Vanilla came from, that’s why he only checked as far back as he could remember) but the fact that Blueberry Milk has the power to see into his memories is very concerning. Luckily the Fount doesn’t seem too interested in prying, but man.

The other Ancients start to get concerned about all this plus the fact that Blueberry Milk has discovered that the cookies catching the attention of the Virtues (skipped over GC and BS don’t worry I’ll loop back to that shortly) are all actually friends, AND wants to come over and visit them sometime, they’re like “listen we know you love Blueberry Milk and we’re letting Dark Cacao date Mystic Flour (DC in the background: help) but this is starting to get dangerous. That’s one of the most powerful cookies in existence when it comes to magic, if anyone could ruin the time fixing stuff it could be the Fount, plus what if discovering that it becomes Shadow Milk causes that to happen early and cookies die?”

But Pure Vanilla just caaaan’t stop loving his precious partner. Sooo let’s go back a bit and see what happened with Golden Cheese Cookie.

She was just sight seeing as per usual, going around one of the Herald of Change’s kingdoms to admire the culture and architecture there, not realizing that the Herald himself would actually BE there. He noticed her wings and was captivated by her IMMEDIATELY. He went up to her and said “hey! Why do you have wings?” to which Golden Cheese panicked and said “oh, I was raised by cheesebirds.” Herald of Change said “ohhh that makes sense” and immediately went to the Fount of Knowledge to ask about what cheesebirds like. That’s how Blueberry Milk discovers that the Herald is now interested in Golden Cheese, PV also happened to be there and was just internally like “ohhh no”

Unlike with the other two, when the Herald tells the other Virtues about his newfound crush, they aren’t as intrigued or encouraging. The Herald was one of the only Virtues to actually date around. This wasn’t new or exciting to them, and it’s not even like Golden Cheese had done anything to win him over, he just thought she was pretty. Still, Blueberry Milk was always happy to help the Herald (important part of our roleplay lore tbh) and hunted down Golden Cheese for him so that it could scan her and learn what she likes, since the Herald really wanted to know.

Golden Cheese saw the Fount of Knowledge approaching her, and thought “oh, no, Dark Cacao described this happening to him, too. The Fount definitely isn’t meant to be here and is definitely coming towards me. Oh, wait! I don’t need to let him circle me! I can fly away!” So that’s what she did.

Blueberry Milk didn’t expect that but immediately became suspicious because of that action. She DEFINITELY saw him approaching, and CHOSE to escape him. Plus, she had LIED. Potentially. Blueberry Milk has an open mind and says that “MAYBE there are WAYS you can spin it so ‘I got wings because I was raised by cheesebirds’ is true” but still thought it strange. Blueberry Milk also noticed a pattern, that both his and Master Flour’s new boyfriends knew each other, and figured maybe it was the same for the Herald’s new crush. Blueberry Milk went to PV and did a brief scan of him to discover that yes, he does know Golden Cheese.

The Fount of Knowledge is somewhat onto them, no longer totally oblivious that there’s anything strange going on, but is giving Pure Vanilla its full trust because it loves him deeply. Still, it questions whether it’s all worth it, knowing that for reasons unexplained, Pure Vanilla isn’t planning on staying.

Anyways. The Herald of Change figured that cheesebirds like cheese and sticks. So, he went to Golden Cheese with cheese and sticks. He gave them to her, then yelled “OH MY GOSH IM STUPID! WHY DIDNT I GET CHEESE STICKS?!” and ran away in embarrassment. Golden Cheese found the pitiful attempt at wooing her kind of cute. She put the cheese on the sticks to eat.

Back home with the Ancients, she is DEVASTATED that she is now part of the “strange relationship with Beast” club. She insists that she doesn’t DESERVE to be lumped in with Dark Cacao and Pure Vanilla, because she didn’t DO anything to garner his attention other than be her glorious self. All it took was a look and she was involved. Hollyberry is just like “on one hand I should avoid Eternal Sugar at all costs so that I can be the One Cookie who is doing things right. On the other hand, I’m REALLY curious”

So far we haven’t added a branch to the au where Hollysugar happens. So FOR NOW, Hollyberry is the one safe Ancient (other than WL until we learn more about SS). But I don’t doubt that at some point we will drag her into it. She’s certainly not AGAINST going to the Garden, despite her friends suggesting maybe she doesn’t.

Also might be worth mentioning that again this au is based on our RP and QUITE CONTRARY TO CANON Golden Cheese and Burning Spice have NEVER been on truly bad terms. They’ve spent most of their time just awkward around each other but are practically besties now. Never a strictly negative relationship. So Golden Cheese doesn’t have as many problems as she probably would if this were a regular AU based on canon.

I wouldn’t be against writing this AU as an actual fic that’s based more on canon rather than my sister and I’s silly little RP! My only problem would be my severe writers block haha! I have 2 WIPs for CRK fics rn and it’s not looking great!!!!!!!!

Wait maybe if I made it an actual fic I could have the ships go in release order so it still starts with Dark Cacao but we swap GC and PV’s plots starting… hahaha… will have to brainstorm this. If ppl want a real AU ig.

Pure Vanilla goes back in time and dates the Fount of Knowledge while trying not to reveal the fact that he is a time traveler who owns half his soul jam

[baldyeosang]

some if my "crazy but in a quirky way" fanily came to support my dad at his step mothers funeral and were horrified when we said "oh thank god someone normal is here" because they dont have criminal records so it truly is a breath of fresh air with that side of the family

[spxllcxstxr]

At Least in that Life • S

(Gif not mine)

Request:

Summary: Ekko finds that Silco is alive and well with his wife by his side in the alternate timeline. He feels the need to tell you about it

Warnings: fem!reader (called wife at some points), no pronouns used though I believe, canon death mention, AU mention, implied Timebomb, angsty : ) , mentions of canon unhealthiness that comes with living in the Undercity, timeline is screwy but idc and neither should you LOL

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: listen, i know he was a little fruity with Vander in the AU BUT i still need this man desperately, don't worry about the timeline i stg, this is actually pretty sad lmao, have fun with it

•

Ekko stares at the man behind the bar; face simultaneously instantly recognizable and drastically changed. The scar was the same mangled mess across one side of his face, but that was where the similarities ended.

In his timeline, Ekko remembers Silco as a cruel bastard with only room in his heart for his wife and Jinx. He never smiled nor ever had reason to. This Silco had a glint of brightness in eyes, even in the orange mutated one, that he would've never associated with the crime lord. The boy stands there, facing the middle-aged man in front of him as he waves his goblet around, body flowing with movement; no strain evident in his posture.

He's talking, Ekko knows this, they're all speaking to him like they aren't either dead or an enemy. But they aren't--these versions of the people he once knew in his own timeline are different.

His eyes drift briefly to you, teeth bared in a smile he hasn't seen since he was a child. You look like that one day, seemingly ages ago, when you kept and eye on him, Powder, and Violet, just days before the uprising. At that point you hadn't been corrupted by the deaths of your closest friends or your husband's vile need for justice. You had a sort of youth to you, though your hair was twinged with greys like Vander's and Silco's, you were practically wrapped around his slender frame, gesturing wildly.

Life had not just been given to Vander, but to you and Silco as well.

His breath hitches and his head throbs with a sharp pain unlike any other.

Ekko squeezes his eyes shut, the vibrancy of the Anomaly imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Distantly, he hears Powder's voice, like a song in his ear, with a type of kindness he's almost completely forgotten.

When he snaps back to reality, whatever that now meant, he was sitting at a table, away from the bar, with Powder to his right and Mylo and Claggor across from him. They watch him, expecting him to act normal, like he was meant to be here.

"I think you might actually be going crazy," Powder laughs, the sound like a sweet summer breeze as it drifts by him. Her eyes scan over him worriedly.

Ekko swallows roughly, willing the wave of sickness to pass quicker. "I--I'm fine. I think I'll just grab water or something?" Swiftly he rises from his seat, partially unbalanced. He hates that his clothes are a perfect fit and his shoes are comfortable enough he can wiggle his toes around.

He walks to the bar, the sounds of rowdy laughter and girlish giggles surrounding him. The ease of it all is overwhelming.

"What'll you have, Ekko? Your usual?"

Ekko glances at you, taking you in now that you're within arm's reach. The only sign of age are your laugh lines around the corners of your lips. Gone are the sunken, tired eyes and ghastly paleness of skin caused by the contaminated air of the Undercity. You were healthy; sure there were a few scrapes here and there, but your cheeks were filled out, Ekko noticed.

"U-usual?" He manages to croak out before the silence got too concerning.

Obviously worried, your brows furrow and lips purse. "I'll just get you a water then, huh? You're not acting like yourself." You busy yourself, bringing up a glass from the shelf at your knees.

Silco is on the other side of the bar, talking to strangers with Vander. He barks out a laugh, nothing he's ever heard before, and runs his free hand through his already ruffled hair.

The glass clinks on the wooden table in front of him, snapping him out of his trance.

"Are you sure you're ok, Ekko? You don't look so good..." You place the back of your hand to his forehead, reaching over the bartop. The coolness of your skin brings him relief, but he knows you're not going to find he has a high temperature. Physically, he was mostly fine. Mentally, however, was another story.

He thinks about how most of these people are dead men walking or empty shells of their former selves back where he's from. Ekko can't shake the empty feeling he has in his heart.

This was the way things should have been.

"So how are things with you and Silco?" He asks, ignoring your previous question as you bring your hand back to your side.

Leaning against the bar you inspect him for just a moment longer. The boy picks up his glass and almost drains it in one go, which seems to satisfy you for now.

"Me and Sil?" You glance at him quickly, face burning. "We're married, kid, we bicker and are right pricks to each other...but in the end we love each other more than anything in the world. That's how it goes." You sigh, resting your head in one of your hands thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

Ekko fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "He just seems so happy. Despite...everything, y'know?"

Lips tilt down slightly in a solemn frown. "It was hard for him, forgiving, that is. He thought we had to endure bloodshed to assert Zaun's rightful existence; he thought it was the only way to get Piltover to listen." Your eyes glance down to the polished wood holding you up. "It was all he knew. And after the incident...after losing our friends and his eye...it was all just a hard pill to swallow."

Silco's laugh once again echoes through the air. You smile immediately, head perking up at the mere noise of your husband. "I never thought I'd see him smile after what we lost--after Vander's wakeup call." Ekko watches as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. "But here he is, my Silco, living the life he always dreamt of..."

"And you?" Ekko shifts from side to side, feet shuffling below him.

"What about me?" You ask, willing the tears away, busying yourself with wiping the countertop between the two of you.

"Are you happy as well?"

For a moment, you pause, pondering the weight of his question. Ekko, the boy you've come to treat as your son, the boy you trust your Powder with, looks at you like you're not quite right. His eyes gaze into your soul with an intensity that's hard to decipher.

Little moments from your life flash before your eyes; swaying to music with Silco in your kitchen as dinner cooks on the stovetop, you and Vander venturing into Piltover to get more supplies for the bar, Silco's soft gaze and his warm lips against your skin.

"I never thought I could ever be this happy." You tell him truthfully, voice just slightly above a whisper.

Something breaks in his eyes, in his demeanor, but he nods anyway. Something wasn't right--that much was obvious, but before you're able to pick his brain he leaves you at the bar, almost sprinting back to Powder and his friends. She greets him with a smile but her fingers twitch nervously under the table.

With a huff you attend to the other patrons at the bar, occasionally catching Ekko's eye as you walk around your space. He watches you and Silco work in tandem like husband and wife. Even with Ekko's mind already severely overwhelmed with the world around him, he notices when your fingertips purposefully brush when handing glassware over to the other and the small kisses that accompany some flirtatious or loving remark. His head spins and senses buzz with the overload of what could have been.

He leaves without saying goodbye to you or Silco, thought you do call out to him before he exits, you, wrapped in Silco's arms.

"I don't know how to tell you this--or even if I should tell you this." Ekko sits in front of you, tinkering with his hoverboard. Jinx stands feet away, quietly eavesdropping while glancing over blueprints she probably already knows by heart. "But Jinx said you might wanna know."

With a frown already etched into your face, you raise your eyebrows at him. You hadn't spoken to Ekko in years especially since Vander's betrayal of your husband and Vi's abandonment of Jinx. But with Piltover and Zaun under attack, he requested your presence with the Firelights. You parted ways with your husband's right hand man Sevika, hoping that you would see each other again, but predicting that that simply wasn't realistic.

"Just spit it out, kid." You reply, exhaustion lacing your words. Fatigue had infiltrated deep in your bones; Silco's death had taken a large toll on you--you were the last of you little makeshift family alive, though Vander was dead to you long before his final breath left his body.

You were quite the contrast to you counterpart in the alternate timeline. Ekko knew this before, but the accentuated frown lines and lifelessness that surrounded your very being just hit him full force.

He takes a deep breath, cautious of how you were going to react. "I went to an alternate timeline and Silco was alive there." Ekko forces out in one breath.

You stare blankly at the boy, your mind somehow not registering what he was saying.

"That was my reaction too..." Jinx murmurs, her voices echoing in the vastness of her metal lair.

A wave of vertigo washes over you, submerging you in its depths. It's hard to breathe. But somehow you will yourself to stay calm in present company. Now was not the time to be weak.

"An alternate timeline?" You manage to ask weakly, drawing your arms closer to your chest and uneasily wrap them around your frame.

"Don't even ask me to explain it because I don't think I could," Ekko chuckles humorlessly. "But it was a timeline where Zaun and Piltover were at peace, where you could openly cross the bridge and not worry about what would happen to you. Zaun and Piltover thrived together."

You scoff at the notion, shaking your head in disbelief. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

"No. This was real." Ekko's deep brown eyes gaze into yours, something painful swimming in his irises. He's different from the boy you once knew; he's seen something, dealt with something he had lost--had to leave behind. The seriousness laced in his tone convinces you.

You nod, indicating that he can continue as you pick at your nails. You try to brace yourself for whatever he's about to say, but you can't. There was no way to predict what was going to come out of his mouth. But the thought of Silco being alive somewhere kills you inside; your stomach churns and your heart aches for your one and only.

Ekko only sighs before explaining to you what he saw, occasionally pausing to recollect his thoughts or add another component onto his hoverboard.

He tells you about the Silco that could have been--should have been--yours. How his laughter filled the already boisterous main room of The Last Drop, how when a certain song played he would drop everything just to twirl you around behind the bar. Ekko described the brightness of his once clouded eyes and the genuine smile that was always present on his face. Your love was so palpable wherever the two of you went.

Powder confessed once, he told you, while looking over countless notes and equations late at night, that if she were to ever get married, she would want exactly what you and Silco had.

Ekko has you clinging onto each sentence trying to savor each and every word as if you were on your deathbed. You try to picture him in your mind, the greying tousled hair, healthy figure, and tendency to smile. The images are faint against the darkness of your eyelids, blurry from the passage of time.

"He's happy?" You ask quietly.

Ekko nods.

"And am I--Is she happy?" You ask again, stuttering at the thought that this person was not you. You were not the one sharing these intimate moments with your husband; these were strangers, who you could've been.

Again, Ekko nods silently, eyes cast downwards.

You feel your bottom lip start to tremble and tears fight to escape and fall down your cheeks. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

What could've been had haunted you ever since Vander's attack on Silco. It had loomed over you and your husband and suffocated you after his death. To know it was so much sweeter than you ever could have imagined...

Your breathing is uneven when Ekko finally stops talking; other than your labored breath the room was silent. You attempt to collect your thoughts and your emotions but they keep slipping through the cracks between your fingers.

"I shouldn't have told you..." Ekko mutters, apologetically. Eyes swimming with pity, he lays a comforting paint-stained hand on your shoulder. Behind him, Jinx stares blankly down at her boots.

"No it's ok, kid." You sigh, willing away the waves of tears threatening to spill over. "It was good to hear."

"Really?" He looks at you, unconvinced.

"It's good to know that me and Silco get a happy life, y'know?" Your attempt at a small smile partially works, but Ekko can still see the distraught written so clearly all over your face. "One where we can smile and laugh and live. If it couldn't be here, I'm happy it was at least in another lifetime."

Ekko helps you stand, still concerned for you.

With an uneven sigh you turn away from Ekko and Jinx who watch you intently, projects forgotten on the floor or scattered across a small table.

"I need some air." You tell them, ambling slowly to the exit, hoping for the cool polluted air to swallow you whole.

•

[neigepomme]

Hi! Congrats on 500+ followers! If you're still doing drabbles, I'd love something with Caleb and Unconditional by Jaehyun 재현 has been giving me MAJOR Caleb vibes. For the prompt, maybe something where Caleb is absolutely whipped or obsessed? Over literally anything MC does?? Or maybe something where he just kisses everywhere on diff body parts bc "that's my sugar, I don't need no honey on the side" makes me SICK. Also, thank you for feeding the Loser Caleb agenda!! I owe u my life

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ unconditional / caleb x reader

synopsis; caleb is hopelessly, utterly whipped for you to say the least. your very existence is something that should be admired, and he isn't shy when it comes to letting you know that.

🍎 pomme's notes — LIVE LAUGH LOVE JAEHYUN!! i miss you come back from the war jamal.. if anyone's interested in participating in my drabble event, the info is right here!

⋆ 800 words / fluff / fem reader / 2nd person

caleb always thought he was the luckiest man on earth. 

being able to be by your side, loving you — hell, you loving him back? he doesn't think it could ever get better, seeing as you're the closest thing to perfection in his mind.

so when you suggested to go on a formal date with him to a high end restaurant in skyhaven, he knew you'd look gorgeous, but holy shit.

dressed in a silk maxi dress that highlighted your body and left your face looking radiant — a dainty necklace with an apple charm he'd gifted you resting on your collarbone, you were the very definition of heaven sent.

your soft honey smell wafted through the room, and caleb could feel himself be drawn in like a bee to a flower — and lord, when you twirled to show him the entire look? lethal. absolutely devastatingly ethereal, knocked his breath right out of his lungs.

“so, how do i look?”

caleb felt like one of those old cartoon characters, his jaw almost dropping to the floor upon seeing how beautiful you looked. silently thanking whichever deity took their time crafting you, he takes hold of your hand and trails kisses up your arm, pulling a soft laugh out of you.

“like an angel. did i ever tell you how much i adore you?”

pulling him in by his collar, you leave a subtle lipstick print when you press your lips to his cheek. 

“mmh, you do so daily, loverboy.”

were you dead set on sending caleb to his grave early? it sure looked like it to him. he could feel his cheeks growing redder, and when you raised your hand to his cheek, attempting to wipe the mark you left on it, he took a step back.

“nuh-uh. that kiss is mine now — need everyone to know i belong with you, pretty girl. last i checked, it was illegal to look that good and be single, so this is just a preventative measure.”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, smacking his chest before laughing again. did caleb mention he was the luckiest man ever? because he was. your laugh was the most delicate melody to his ears, and he'd do anything to hear it over and over again. 

“that was a lame pickup line, caleb. but if we're going by your logic, you'd be behind bars for being so handsome, too. i guess we'd be felons together, huh?”

yeah. dead set on sending him to the grave prematurely.

his cheeks were flushed, he'd be your lame boyfriend all of the damn time if it meant you kept him by your side, and god, you thought he was handsome? caleb was seeing the pearly gates of heaven already. who on this earth could ever compare to you — his one and only.

wrapping both hands around his bicep, you look up at him with those sweet eyes of yours, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you senseless. you could ask him to give you the moon, and he'd bring you the universe as a whole just to make you happy. for you, he'd break every law, give you every gift, and it wouldn't still be enough. you deserved everything, and caleb was determined to make sure you knew that his love was limitless — unconditional.

“shall we get going, boyfriend?”

he felt like an obedient dog every single time you spoke to him. sometimes, he thought that your existence was the undeniable proof of a higher being. otherwise, how could you have been this perfect? crafted by the hands of gods, your personality and physique so immaculate, it had caleb wanting to praise whoever was up in the sky.

the way you talked, the way you smiled, the way you breathed. he could find new reasons to worship your being for centuries to come and never have to repeat a reason twice.

just last week, he saw you pouting when you let him know that a girl was hitting on him, and he still couldn't wrap his head around how you could be upset. caleb only saw you, and nobody could take his gaze away from your figure. you were his, and the idea of possibly finding another? revolting. no one could take your place, no model, no ceo, absolutely nothing. the only way he'd take his eyes off you was in death, and he was not dying anytime soon — he had already made plans to stay by your side until the end of time.

“we shall, pretty lady. i would never dare dream about letting you down.”

scratch the praise — caleb had to figure out which god loved you so much and take its place. there is no way he's letting his #1 loverboy spot be taken.

🍎 pomme's final notes — CALEB LOVESICK LOSER AGENDA NEVER FAILS!! GRRAAAAAAAAAH

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Bared Fangs.

Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Modern/Serial Killer AU, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Blood/Gore, Reader Gets Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Gun Violence, and Unhealthy Relationships. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as Childe asked you if you wanted to go outside.

Honestly, you should’ve known something was wrong as soon as he found you reading in front of his fireplace, as soon as that crooked, schoolboy grin found its way to his lips and he forewent his usual routine of draping himself on top of you like some muscled, zealously homicidal weighted blanket in favor of ruffling your hair and toying with the collar of the flannel you were wearing (his flannel, technically, but you tried not to let yourself acknowledge how accustomed you’d grown to wearing your captor’s clothes or, more troublingly, how long it’d been since the last time you’d felt disgusted by it). “Snow should be done for a couple hours,” he started, nodding towards the frost-coated windows. It might’ve been a more charming sight if not for the scratches carved into the surface of the glass – souvenirs from there the first time you got your hands on one of his axes. “I’m thinking of stepping out, doing a little hunting before the storm kicks up again. Wanna come with me?”

You narrowed your eyes at your book, trying to hide the way your heart beat a little faster at the suggestion of being able to leave his claustrophobic cabin. But, with Childe, you were usually better off staying safely tucked behind the bars of your rustic cage. “Is this going to be a normal hunting trip or a you hunting trip?”

He only hummed. “’fraid I don’t know what you mean by that, princess.”

“Are we going to be hunting animals, or…” You trailed off, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with remembering why you were here. “… or, you know. People, or whatever.”

“This time of year?” He let out an airy laugh, like you’d asked to go skiing in the middle of summer. “There’s nobody on the mountain ’cept me and you.”

Still, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to try and think beyond your near-overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here. Childe was a murderer, a sadist, a kidnapper, but he wasn’t the type to play mind games. He tended to divide his reality between the world outside – where people could be hunted like quarry, their bodies left to rot in tents and rivers with only the occasional token taken as a keepsake – and the world inside the walls of his cabin – where he sat you down in front of a low-burning fire and told you stories about ice-fishing with his siblings and pouted when you admit his (admittedly, not entirely inedible) cooking could use a little more seasoning. After that first night – the worst night of your fucking life – he seemed to want to keep you resigned to the latter, at least until he came home covered in blood and desperate for something warm and familiar to fuck until he passed out.

Eventually, you sighed, closing your book and sitting up. “Fine. When do we leave?”

His grin widened, head lulling forward as he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “The front door’s already unlocked. I’ll give you a head start, a full five minutes. Actually, make it ten – just to make it a little more fun for you.”

 There was a beat of silence, then another. “Childe, you’re making it sound like you’re—”

“Like I said, there’s nobody on the mountain but me and you.” He pulled away, turning on his heel. “I’ll be nice, too – won’t use anything with more than a twenty-foot range.”

“But, you— you can’t just—”

“Tick-tock.” He clicked his tongue, winking at you over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather cut straight to the good part.”

You should’ve known something was wrong, and now, running through the frozen wilderness desperately lost and barely dressed, your ten minutes spent and a killer undoubtedly chasing you down, you were paying the price for it.

You didn’t have time to be tactical. The snow was fresh enough to make every interruption unbearable obvious, meaning that – even if you were willing to stop and spare the seconds it’d take to hide your tracks, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Your only option was to run, but even that was easier said than done. Childe preferred to keep you in a state of hand-crafted domestic bliss, meaning what few clothes you did have were either picked out by or borrowed from him. Currently, all that separated you from the cold was his flannel, an oversized shirt, and a pair of his boots that you’d snagged on your way out. The chill snapped at your cold legs like the teeth of some unseen predator, the frigid air burning holes in your lungs, but the thought of what Childe would do when he caught you was enough to keep your feet moving, to keep you sprinting blindly through the forest. He wouldn’t kill you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t kill you, but—

A high-pitched holler, the sound of branches snapping underfoot and foliage being pushed aside somewhere behind you. You hadn’t stopped running after your first trembling steps away from the cabin, and yet, he couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet behind you – half a mile, at your most generous guess. You started to curse under your breath, then thought better of it, biting down on your bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and pivoting to the left, where the forest seemed to be just a little thicker. If you couldn’t get away from him, you could at least try to hide before he got to you.

It was a haphazard, half-baked plan that was cruelly and immediately cut short as your foot caught on a root hidden by the snow, tearing away your right boot and leaving you sprawled over the frozen ground. Dampness sunk into your thin clothes, and you shut your eyes, trying to listen for Childe’s footsteps, but there was a reason none of his victims ever seemed to hear him coming. The forest’s minimal white noise was enough to swallow him entirely, the sound of birdsong and distant car engines disguising his presence despite your best attempts to—

Your realization was delayed, but intense.

Cars.

Cars meant roads. Cars meant civilization. Cars meant people, people who could take you away from here, away from Childe. You clambered to your feet, but failed to take so much as a step before a sudden, stabbing pain bit into your calf, your leg immediately buckling underneath you. You would’ve fallen entirely if it hadn’t been for the adrenaline running through your system, numbing the agony and choking the ragged scream that threatened to rise from the pit of your chest into a cracked whimper. It was one of Childe’s arrows – you would’ve been able to recognize that black steel from a mile away – but you didn’t let yourself linger on the implications. With grit teeth and balled fists, you limped forward, leaving a thin trail of crimson in your wake. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking, but it was there – a thin, wobbling, unpaved dirt road, only marked by two thin rows of tire tracks that sliced harshly through the otherwise unmarred blanket of snow. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see dirt.

There wasn’t time to think. You stumbled out of the woods and into the road, the arrow’s head sinking that much deeper with every stuttering movement. The car you’d heard was still there, too; a by-the-numbers sedan, only a few hundred feet down the road. You threw up your arms up, then thought better of it; cupping your shaking hands around your mouth. You moved to call out, but whatever you might’ve said was stolen away from you as something dark flashed across your peripheral and another arrow planted itself in your right shoulder. This time, you crumbled like a dead leaf – broken into pieces by a morning gale.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Childe emerge from the tree line, his crossbow still in-hand. As he came to stand in front of you, your gaze shifted back to the car. You watched, your mind buzzing with pain, as it disappeared around a sharp bend, never so much as slowing down.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard Childe coo, wiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks before they could freeze against your skin. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, his voice low with a painful edge. “I guess I cheated, huh? Couldn’t help it – just knew you’d look so cute all bruised up and bleeding.”

Dropping his crossbow carelessly, he fell to your height. He was dressed for one of his usual hunts; a cut-off shotgun slung over his back, a hunting knife sheathed at his hip. The leather casing of the latter pressed into your side as he dipped lower, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. You felt his knee settle between your thighs, and weakly, your hands found their way to his chest. “Not here,” you mumbled, more afraid of the chill quickly seeping under your skin than being seen. “It hurts, Childe. I—I think you hit something imp—”

“I’ll be fast.” Another kiss, this one to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His calloused hands skirted over your sides, then your waist, hiking the thin fabric of your oversized shirt up to your midriff. You were already past the point of total numbness, and yet, the rough gravel beneath the snow cut harshly into your exposed skin. Rather than distracting you from the pain in your calf, your shoulder, it only seemed to draw more attention to your bleeding wounds, only seemed to make it harder to ignore the dull heat of Childe’s mouth against your chest. “Gotta take you out more often. You’re always beautiful, but I didn’t know you’d look this pretty.”

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His arrow burnt into the tattered skin of your calf as his hands fell to your legs, groping at the plush of your thighs playfully before shifting his attention to the fly of his jeans. You knew what he wanted, he’d always been transparent, but the sound of shifting fabric, the sight of his rosy-tipped, stiff cock pressing flush against his stomach – that was enough for the loose coil of dread writhing in the pit of your chest to tighten into a tight, jagged knot of pure terror. You tried to sit up, to make your refusal that much more apparent, but Childe only caught you by your uninjured shoulder, shoving you into the ground with enough force to earn a pained scowl, a fractured whimper. His only response was a wordless, vaguely sympathetic noise, a softened lull to his wide smile. “No skipping out on this, babydoll. I can’t guarantee you’ll end up in one piece if I have to wait ‘till we get home.”

It was a fair warning, but anything he could have said would’ve been lost on you. Your heart was beating in your ears, blocking out any other sound. Pools of red blood and piles of limp bodies flashed across your vision and desperately, futilely, you clawed at the hand on your shoulder, kicked at his chest, thrashed underneath him like an animal unaware that resistance would only make the predator want to drive its teeth that much deeper. It was more Childe’s divided attention than your strength, but your heel found his side and, just for a moment, he slipped, letting out a soft grunt as the hand pinning you down fell away. You were scrambling onto your knees in a second, attempting to get your feet underneath you in another, but your little stunt was cut short as Childe lashed out, wrapping his arm around your neck and forcing your stomach against the ground. There was no whimpering, anymore – just a ragged, ear-piercing scream as his free hand found the arrow in your shoulder, tearing it out of you in one clean, unfaltering motion. His only response came in the form of a throaty moan; deep and terrible and followed immediately by the feeling of his cock against your dry cunt. You would’ve begged him to stop, offered to let him do anything he wanted to you if he just didn’t do this, but he didn’t give you time to bargain. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

Trembling sobs tore at your throat and past your lips, tears now flowing unabashedly down your cheeks. Childe kept his full weight against your back as he fucked into you with short, sharp thrusts – never happy unless he was burying himself in the deepest pocket of your poor, freezing pussy. Rather than desensitizing you, letting you fall back into some distant state of nonexistence, the snow seemed to burn where it was pressed into your cheek, your chest. You wished he would’ve taken off the rest of your clothes. You wished he would’ve just shot his stupid arrows into your skull and put you out of your misery.

It shouldn’t have felt good, you didn’t want it to feel good, but your body didn’t know that. Your cunt clenched and drooled around him, trying in vain to turn his assault into something you could enjoy, but the way he grunted into your ear snuffed out any pleasure you might’ve been able to feel. “Tryin’ to pull me back in,” he muttered, his voice already airy, already strung out. You couldn’t help but wonder if, had you only been able to run from him for another minute, he would’ve found something else to shove his dick into and left you out here to freeze to death. “Is that your goal? Wanna – Fuck, wanna help me warm you up?”

His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass flush against his hips and letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much more brutally. Your injured leg grated against the dirt of the road and you cried out, your voice ragged and barely coherent. “St— Hurts, stop, stop, please, stop—”

“That’s it, always making such pretty sounds for me.” He buried his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Sometimes, it feels like all I wanna do it cut you open and crawl—”

He was interrupted by the dull roar of an approaching engine and something brightened inside of you, your eyes shifting towards the road, towards the well-beaten pick-up truck speeding in your direction. The breaks screeched as you and Childe came into the driver’s view, and for a second, you let yourself go slack underneath him, relief overwhelming your better judgement.

Childe wasn’t so sentimental.

His shotgun was in his hand before you could so much as process that he’d moved. Wordlessly, he fired off two shots; the first to the windshield on the driver’s side and the second to one of the front tires. You watched on helplessly as your last hope for salvation bucked, swerved, then veered off of the road entirely, catching on a snowbank and turning over once before crashing into the trunk of an oak that failed to so much as shake under the force of the collision. It was quieter than you’d expected it to be, the only sounds that of shattering glass and crunching metal. If there were survivors, no one screamed, or called for help, or came stumbling out of the wreckage. Childe’s breath hitched in his throat, his pace growing that much more erratic as he buckled into you – his pointed canines finding the tender junction at the base of your throat and burying themselves in your skin. It was less a love-bite and more an effort to eat you alive. What little blood he didn’t lap up washed over your chest, melting the frost and mixing into the snow beneath you. “Look—” He groaned, tried and failed to pull away from you. His voice reverberated against the curve of your neck as he went on. “Look what you turn me into, princess. Got me making all kinds of messes for you.”

Blood. Bodies. The taste of his cum on your tongue as your friends bled out under the same roof. You would’ve choked the air in your lungs if you’d been able to breathe, but there was no point lingering on pleasant hypotheticals. There were no distractions from the feeling of Childe’s hips grating against yours, the way his cock twitched as settled against you. A guttural moan tore past his lips as something thick and searing flooded into you, and you refused to let yourself acknowledge that this was the warmest you’d felt in days.

You stayed there, limp and frozen and miserable, as Childe pulled away from you, pulled out of you. Your eyes fell shut as he stumbled to his feet, your skin too numb to feel anything aside from the pressure of his arms around your motionless body. He pulled you against his chest, then let out a low whistle. “Might’ve gone a little overboard there. Sorry ‘bout that, princess.” A low chuckle, a gentle squeeze. “I just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. You’ll forgive me after a warm bath, right?”

You didn’t answer. The arrow in your calf must’ve fallen out, or maybe not – you couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your hands felt like dead weight too, utterly disconnected from anything you might’ve used to control them, but every drop of panic, every ounce of horror – that all paled in comparison to the never-ending pit of pitch-black loathing that formed in your chest as you stared up at Childe. You hated him, wanted to see him torn apart with his own stockpile of weapons, but you really couldn’t blame him. Not for this, at least.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as the monster bared its fangs.

[hotyanderedaddies]

Hiiiiii i love your stories sm, they’re so unique and truly well written, but could I possibly request a hopeless romantic m reader who has never been inlove and longs for a big muscular daddy (possibly yakuza?? Up to u tho!😁)

[Yandere! Boyfriend x Hopeless Romantic! M Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Plain and simple: You're a hopeless romantic.

You're in love with the idea of love.

Having someone there to be by your side through life, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, building a home and a family with him-- doing everything with him.

It's so intoxicating.

And you were determined to find whoever "him" is.

You weren't really too picky. Really, your only condition is that your dream guy has to be slightly bigger than you and allow you to call him "Daddy".

You wanted a big man who'd man-handle you nonstop and be all completely dominate like the Dom!Daddy he is. *Swoon.

But... where do you find a Daddy?

You couldn't exactly just put an ad in the newspaper. That might attract some weirdos. Therefore, one night, you decided to finally begin your quest for love, and go to a biker bar to try and find some tough guy daddy who would totally wreck you love you.

The mere second you stepped foot inside the bar, you couldn't help but feel like you were totally out of place. You weren't an absolute square, but whereas a majority of the clientele wore leather jackets and tight jeans that strained over their powerful muscles, you were dressed in your white button down and you even had your thick glasses on (so you could see, obviously).

Needless to say, you looked incredibly tiny compared to the large, intimidating men in the bar (which is kinda hot, to be honest).

Not being a fan of beer, you ordered a fruity cocktail from the bartender (earning a look, but whatever). As you nursed your drink, someone took the seat next to yours.

Looking over, you saw a guy giving you a hungry look. "Hey there," he said in his deep voice, "I'm--"

A large hand engulfed your small shoulder, interrupting the budding conversation between you and the guy. You craned your neck skywards and stared in awe at the even larger man who stood behind you.

This new man was by far the largest in the bar, both in height and musculature. He completely towered over you by at least two feet and was about twice as wide. His muscles strained against his tight black t-shirt. And he scowled at the other man who was trying to talk to you, a snarl on his handsome face.

"This one's mine," he practically growled at the other guy, his voice full of masculine baritone. "Fuck off."

The other guy scampered away like a frightened puppy, tail between his legs.

Your heart beat like crazy in your chest, due to a combination of nerves and total awe over the drop dead gorgeous daddy of a man who'd just totally claimed you as his in the bar.

The large man's narrowed eyes drifted towards you, and his snarl lifted the slightest bit.

"Hope I didn't scare ya, Darling," he told you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you come over to my table, and I'll make it up to ya?"

He didn't give you time to answer, because he tightened his grip on you (not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point known), and led you away from the bar towards the back where a solo table was. There was only one chair and when he sat in it, you briefly looked around for a spare seat you could drag over.

The man yanked you down onto his lap, quickly securing both of his muscled arms around your waist.

His lap was surprisingly soft and cozy, and it was hard not to cuddle against his broad chest that vibrated whenever he spoke.

"Now what is a cute little thing like you doing in such a dangerous place like this?" the man asked you. "You really should have your daddy here to protect you..." He trailed off and you could feel him tense up slightly. "Unless, you don't have a daddy... yet?"

You perked up, unable to believe your luck. Not only had you just begun your love quest, but you've potentially found someone in under an hour!

And this man who'd placed you on his lap was insanely tall, built like a truck, and seemed to be one of those characters who were cold to everyone except for their darling. That last part was based on the way he wouldn't stop nuzzling you every so often, happily humming as he did so.

"A d-daddy?" you repeated in disbelief.

The man mistook your words and said, "A daddy is someone who takes care of his darling. He protects him, cherishes him, pampers him, and above all: loves him." He paused to press his lips against your cheek quickly, his light stubble pricking your skin. "And all he asks is that his darling belong to him. And only him."

Holy crap, this was definitely what you were looking for!

"So, Darling," the man continued, his grip on you tightening, "would you like me to be your daddy?"

Logic dictated that you decline (at first) and say that the best decision would be to go on a couple of dates to get to know one another. That way, you could see if you were compatible beyond the daddy/darling dynamic--

"But before you answer, Darling," the man chuckled, "I have to warn you: If you say 'Yes', then I'll never, ever let you go. You'll be all mine."

"Yes!" you blurted without a moment's hesitation.

The man, Daddy, gave you a slight squeeze. "Yes, what?" he pressed, and you could feel him getting hard as you sat on his lap... and hot damn, you need to look up some stretching techniques.

"Yes, Daddy."

[madridnoora]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - A Messy Night

Sixth instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc

Instalments - one, two, three , three.two, four and five ౨ৎ

Summary: An old friend comes to visit Daisy on campus, leading to a long drunken night of bar hopping and partying that leaves Joe picking up the pieces.

⋆｡˚ word count: 9.8k

18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚

daisyymoore

a party hates to see us coming - Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Liked by jjettas2, cassdaviess and 543 others

@.cassdaviess: ma little daisy girl.

-> @.daisyymoore: ma little kittycass

@.isabellaabreut: ur so hot

-> @.daisyymoore: blushing rn

@.carsonford: trip of the year loading

-> @.daisyymoore: i've been counting down the days.

-> @.cassdaviess: eeeeeek so exciting!!!

@.jjettas2: u look dope.

-> @.daisyymoore: swag.

October 17th 2019

Daisy scrolled on her phone, snuggled under the soft floral sheets of her dorm room bed. She looked over the post she had made a few hours ago, checking to see the comments and likes, analysing every image more than she needed too. Should she have posted them? Did she look good enough? She analysed her face so intensely, it startsed to look almost distorted.

She read Carson's comment again and butterflies of excitement fluttered in her stomach. Carson had been her best friend since middle school, the only friend from high school that really remained a strong figure in her college life. He also happened to be Lucas' older brother, only in the grade above. However, they were complete opposites, different in every single aspect. Lucas was an all American football star and Carson was a fashion student at Parsons School of Design in NYC. The pair of them hardly spoke to each other, a brother relationship that had spent years becoming strained. For a long while, Daisy was the only reason the brothers spoke at all.

Since Lucas and her broke up, Carson had only spoke to his brother briefly at Christmas. Daisy couldn't help but feel sorrow in her chest when she thought about the family relationship between them, feeling a responsibility to help mend the broken bonds but then she remembered that they were grown men. Men who could decide and mend their relationship for themselves. It would be best for everyone if she just stayed out of it.

Carson and Daisy always spend Halloween together, last year he came to stay on campus in Louisiana and this year would be no different.

Daisy was about to lock her phone, putting it away for the night as she prepared to get some much needed sleep when a message popped up on her screen. A ding sounding out around the room, one that made Cassie stir in the bed across from her.

Joe

what trip?

Daisy scoffed. She replied bluntly, a tone of cheekiness in each word.

stop stalking

Joe had clearly been looking at her page, reading each comment. Daisy rolled her eyes at the thought of him laying in bed, likely shirtless with an arm stretched behind his head scrolling through instagram aimlessly. Another ding pulled her away from the image she created of Joe in her mind.

Joe

what trip?

Daisy pondered over how to respond to his message. Did she tell him the truth or did she make up a lie? Did she let her casual hookup know that her ex boyfriends brother, who also happened to be her best friend, was coming to town for a couple days and would be spending halloween with her? She twiddles her thumbs over the letters of her iphone keyboard.

just a friend coming to visit for a few days, she typed the message and hit send. Anxiety grasped at her chest as she saw the bubble pop up, letting her know he was typing. A small breath held itself tight in her chest as minutes past, the bubble still there, pulsating, almost tormentingly. The message never came. The bubble disappeared, leaving a hollow space at the bottom of her screen. She released the breath. A strong sigh.

She rolls over in her cotton sheets and grabs her charger, plugging her phone in. A buzz of confirmation in her hands as she sets it down on the surface beside her. She settles back in bed, delicately shutting her eyes. She had a class early in the morning and she had been up for way longer than she should have been. She should have ignored the light that shone out into the dark room, she should have ignored the buzz that vibrated against the wooden bedside table, but something told her to look. A magnetic feeling in her stomach attracting her to the device.

Her green eyes shoot open and she leans over to check her phone.

@.joeyb_9 liked your post

@.joeyb_9 liked a comment on your post

Curiosity got the best of her, and she had to see what comment he had liked.

It was Bella's. 'ur so hot'

Daisy looked at the ceiling in both frustration and disbelief, but she couldn't stop her bodies real reaction. A drop in the stomach and a rosy coloured heat decorating her bare cheeks. Blushing at the quarterbacks bare minimum attention -- what a cliche.

Her phone thudded back on the wooden surface as she lightly threw it away from her.

She needed sleep, not Joe, sleep.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The frat house was quieter than Daisy was used too. Only faint rap music sounded from the basement, some dishes clattered from the kitchen and hardly any voices sounded through the near empty house. She sat at the chair of Joe's desk, her laptop open on her classwork as she tried to get some studying done.

It was Saturday night.

Most of the frat brothers were out at the campus bars or at another party. The football team was away in Mississippi, although heading back on the bus. Daisy had stayed over last night, doing what her and Joe usually did. Panting breaths, sticky skin and rough sex. He had surprised her when he left for the game in the morning.

'Stay. I won't be back too late' A nonchalant head turned over his shoulder to look at her sleepy self under the covers of his bed. The red lace thong from over a week ago, still hanging from his headboard. A reminder of her he didn't want to take down, no matter how many times Daisy begged him to.

Daisy subtly nodded her head, too tired from the early hour to fight him. When Joe shut the door to his bedroom, she fell back asleep. Waking up lazily at midday.

Since then she had been bored, struggling to find something to do other than her class work or binge watching stupid videos on youtube. She was too scared to leave the room, not until the evening when she knew Joe's housemates would be leaving for the parties spread out across frat row. Then she crept down the stairs, tiptoeing in bare feet as she avoided being detected. When she pulled open the heavy door of the silver fridge, she was met with little choice. All that was available was an apple. A lone standing apple shining ruby red under the white lights of the cold refrigerator.

She huffed and took a big bite, juice dripping down the sides of her lips as she walked back up the stairs and into Joe's room. The wait for him to return would be an excruciating one.

When Joe text her to let her know he was getting on the bus back, she thanked the sky above. That was until she googled the distance between them and realised another four hours would still have to pass until her boredom and hopefully her hunger would be cured.

That's when she decided to shove some of the mess from his dark wooden cluttered desk onto the floor and try to work her way through a big chunk of studying she needed to do. Now, she sat in the quiet silence. Her teeth biting at her nails as the white screen illuminated her face. Sage green eyes dulled with exhaustion. Stress draining the life from her system.

Joe would be back in an hour and a half. She was giving up on the work that had plagued her long day.

She wondered how his game had gone, she hadn't bothered to watch. However, the curiosity of whether he had won, whether he had performed well bit at her insides. She stared as the computer screen, which had now gone into sleep mode, with a deep contemplation. She pressed her full lips together, biting on the bottom one. Briefly, her eyes darted to the hanging Ohio State poster on his wall. She blew out a puffed breath.

Daisy's fingers waggled on the mousepad of her laptop, once again it illuminated her face. Dainty finger's speedily typed into the search bar.

lsu v mississippi game

Another exhale sharply left her mouth as the screen went blank loading up the results. Multiple headlines flashed on to her screen, her eyes scanning over each one.

'LSU's Tigers barely beat Mississippi in worst performance of the season'

'Joe Burrow has disaster game against Mississippi'

'LSU take an undeserved victory over an impressive Mississippi team'

Her heart dropped at the words she was reading. From what Daisy had gathered, LSU had barely beat an easy Mississippi team. The scoreline 23-20 and Joe's performance, for the first time this season, was not a heismann worthy one.

Anxiety crept it's way up her spine, slow goosebumps trailing over her now cold skin. Colour drained from her usually flushed face. Joe would be coming back annoyed and angry with himself. Memories of her old relationship flood back through her mind. Time and time again, she had been shouted at and ridiculed for being the reason Lucas had performed bad. Would that happen to her again? Would Joe blame his poor game on the fact that she had been staying over his place more than ever before? Daisy weighed up the options of what she could do. She considered leaving, sending Joe a text saying something had come up and she needed to run but that may have only led to him being more frustrated.

She let out a weary breath, a one shaking with anticipation.

She would stay.

All day the time had moved painfully slow. Minutes going by like hours, but the last hour of the day went by in seconds. It felt like only moments after Daisy had googled the game that she heard the hefty door of the house slam harshly shut.

Small voices filled the hallway. She recognised one as Justin, but she couldn't make out what was being said. She couldn't hear Joe, but she did hear the heavy stomping sound of feet marching towards the door of his room.

She sat up in the bed, her legs crossed, bracing for what was to come through the door.

Joe entered the room, a seething look decorating his face. He had a scratch on his cheek, old blood dried on the side of his head. His bag was thrown down in the corner of his room with enough force to make Daisy jump. His bedroom door slammed, the four walls around them seemed to rattle.

Joe didn't look at her, instead he walked straight into his bathroom and slammed that door also. The noise of the shower water hitting the floor sounded out around the room. Daisy's shoulders relaxed as she realised she would have at least fifteen minutes before he re-entered the bedroom.

She gnawed at her nails as she waited for him to come back out, she started to regret not leaving. Awkwardness clawed at her skin as it reached out from the heavy atmosphere that encompassed her.

When she heard the bathroom door unlock with a starling click, her shoulders tensed again.

Joe came out the bathroom shirtless with a white towel hanging from his waist. Small droplets of water still running down his tanned, sculpted back. His hair was wet. The dried blood from his face, gone and washed away. Dampness filled the air, alongside the steamy heat from the shower waters hot temperature.

If she hadn't been so tense about what could happen, and what Joe was going to say, she would have found the whole thing attractive. His bare, freshly washed chest on full display. His wet hair slicked back. He looked fine. Fine as hell.

Joe grabbed some sweats and put them on. His towel dropping to the floor, leaving Daisy to only gulp in response. She was in the same clothes he left her in, hopping into them again after her own morning shower. The spongebob t-shirt and some brandy melville boy shorts that she had brought over herself.

Uncomfortable silence still spread through the air.

'You want me to leave? Give you some space.' Daisy's words are compassionate and considerate.

'Did i ask you to leave?' Joe's response is sarcastic and rude, spat from his mouth in disdain. He doesn't mean it to be but the events of tonights game had left him pissed and he hated the sympathetic tone in her voice.

'No-erm, I just-' Daisy stumbled over her words, scrambling to try and find the right thing to say to him. Embarrassment and pressure surged through her skin. A deep heat on the back of her neck.

'Then stop asking me dumb questions' Every word that Joe said was growled from his throat, daggers shot through clenched teeth. Daisy felt herself sinking in his bed.

'I'm sorry' Her apology is quiet and rushed, not wanting to anger him anymore.

'Why are you sorry, it's not like you were on the field' Joe tutted through his teeth as he paced around his room, head down and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

'I know but- I mean, erm- y'know' Daisy once again stumbled as she tried to explain what she meant.

'God, Dais. Spit it out' Joe's head jerked towards where she was sat, crossed legged on his bed in the ridiculous spongebob shirt he had given her, her hands picking at the skin around her nails. Her shoulders held up in a tense way, her brunette hair wavy and laying haphazardly around her flaming cheeks.

'Do I not get in the way, don't I distract you or make you play bad.' Words tumbled from her mouth. When she looked at Joe, he could see the uneasy panic in her big doe eyes. When he did, unusual guilt swirled in his stomach. His hard gaze shifts to a softer one.

'Why would you think that?' Joe's voice became gentler but it still maintained a defensive tone. His question a genuine one.

He watched as Daisy swallowed a lump in her throat, her eyes darting around the room to avoid his stare. Shaky hands still picked at the skin around her nails. Joe had a feeling he knew why, he just wanted it to be vocalised, confirmed through her words.

'Erm, Lucas' Daisy swallowed again before continuing. 'He would blame me pretty bad after a loss.'

She looks at Joe, the room around them pausing as she waited for his response.

Joe just rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in an almost laugh. He subtle scoff rolling off his tongue.

'Of course he did'

'He said at the game, in Austin, that he'd been playing better since we broke up and his stats don't lie' Daisy continued talking. She believed every word Lucas had said about her being a distraction. The proof was in the way his draft stock was going up, the amount of touchdowns he was getting each game.

Joe let out a brief laugh, before he turned to look at her concerned eyes.

'Lucas' stats are better because the Longhorns have a better O-line and a better quarterback this season. He's playing how he's always played -- average'

The insulting words rolls easily of Joe's tongue, a cocky smirk dancing across his lips. He watched as Daisy tried to hide a smile at his words, her shoulders dropping and her tense exterior softening. Light re-entered her eyes, and a glow came back to her skin as she no longer felt stressed about Joe's attitude.

'I played bad because I didn't prepare enough. That's on me and me only, sweetcheeks' Joe said as he crawled into bed beside her, a television remote firm in his hand pressing the on button.

Daisy couldn't explain it, but Joe's words were almost healing. She wouldn't let him know but what he had said was one of the most caring things someone had ever done for her, and he didn't even realise it. He lay beside her not sparing a second thought for the conversation they just had, like it was a nothing moment between them.

She lay back in the bed beside him, a lip bitten between her teeth as she tried to stop the smile on her face. Highlights of other college football games filled the air from the television screen. The field tinting the aura of the room green. She pulled up her phone, letting the commentary play out as background noise as she scrolled through various instagram stories. She tried to focus on anything but the agonising hunger jabbing at her empty stomach. All she had eaten was an apple. She wanted to ask Joe for something but she didn't want to feel like a bother, not after the day he had.

A loud growl echoes from her stomach.

Instinctively she placed a hand over it to try and stop it.

Joe looked at her, wide eyed with concern.

'Did you have some food today?' Joe quizzed.

Daisy just shook her head. Joe let out a breath and an annoyed 'fuck's sake' before his got out of bed and threw on a black hoodie. The hood remaining up. He threw another one at Daisy. It was white with LSU football written boldly across the front.

'Come on' Joe said as he directed her to put the hoodie on and grabbed his keys from the top of his dressed. The noise of them jangling mixing with the sound of the television which still played out into the room.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The roads of Baton Rouge were quiet, the time had just gone past one am. Bright city lights passed them by. Some old Weeknd songs played quietly through the speakers of Joe's car. Daisy didn't know where he was taking her, he hadn't said but she assumed it was to get food. She nodded her head along to the music. Joe's one hand rested on the leather steering wheel, the other placed on his thigh. His fingers lightly tapping to the music.

When he turned a corner, she understood the destination of the late night journey. The golden arches lit up in the night sky, almost in way that seemed to mock the moon.

'McDonald's'

Wow. Joe sure knew how to treat a girl special. Daisy wasn't complaining, she would take any food to fill up the hunger in her hollow stomach. Joe turned the car into the drive thru, pulling up at the ordering machine.

'What'you want?'

'Ten piece McNuggets, large fries and a large diet coke' Daisy recited her order quickly, the same thing she had been getting her whole life. Joe nodded his head, repeating it the worker over the machine and adding on a double cheeseburger and fries for himself.

Joe paid and drove to the second window.

A wide eyed boy, who must have been no older than sixteen, smiled out the window.

'Holy shit!, you're Joe Burrow' The kid said excitedly. A gleaming light in his eyes as he looked at Joe.

Joe nodded his head, a small smile on his face. Not a cocky or arrogant one, but a genuine one.

'Man, you're killing it this season. I can't wait to watch you in the league.' The cheerful kid said as he packed up the food for Daisy and Joe, handing it carefully out the window. Joe took the brown paper bags and passed them to Daisy.

' 'Preciate the support kid, it means a lot' Joe offered the boy a tip, some cash from his glove compartment. The young boy beamed and thanked him profusely, then Joe drove out into the parking lot.

Daisy analysed the interaction that had just taken place before her. A kid's eyes lighting up like he saw a superhero, Joe's humble response. A response that she never expected from how he acts in the frat house, from the smug arrogant grin that had become his most staple facial expression.

'That was cute' Daisy said as she dug into her fries, and took sips from her diet coke.

'It was nothing' Joe shrugged off her words trying to maintain the cold frat boy persona. The nonchalant, I don't care about anything but football act. Daisy just nodded her head, reading the energy in the car and not pushing her luck. It was the least she could do after he bought her food.

When they were done, Joe drove them back to his place. They crashed as soon as they hit the bed, and for the first time Daisy stayed over in a different context. No sex. Just sleeping beside each other, shallow rhythmic breaths sounding out from their peaceful slumbers. Once again, closeness envelopes them. Joe's loose arm wrapped over her hip, and for the first time he didn't bother to move it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Excitement bubbled in every corner of Cassie's car as the three girls waited outside of Baton Rouge Airport for Carson's arrival. They had last seen him when they went to New York and then to the Hamptons for two weeks over summer break. Three months had passed since then. Three months way too long. A pop playlist hummed through the car stereo as the girls kept darting their eyes around looking for him.

'AHHHHH' Bella's scream made Cassie and Daisy jump. Bella outstretched her arm, a index finger pointing in the direction of a door from the airport.

Cassie and Daisy's heads snap to see what she screamed at.

It's Carson.

He's waving one hand manically at the car, the other hand gripping on his hot pink sparkly suitcase. The same one he had been using to travel with since Daisy met him. The girls jump out the car as Carson begins to sprint over to them.

His chest hits Daisy's with a strong force, a tender and tight embrace between best friends who missed each other deeply. Tears welled in her eyes, emotion she didn't expect herself to feel flooding to the forefront of her mind. She knew she missed him, but she didn't quite grasp how much until that very moment. Carson was her rock through everything, the person who knew her most in the world. He had grown up with her, lived his life with her and not having him around took it's toll more than Daisy dared to admit.

Two other sets of arms engulfed around them as Bella and Cassie joined in the embrace.

'Okayyyy, enough with the soppy shit. Let's get in the car' Carson wiped his own tears away as he opened the trunk and swung his heavy suitcase in the back. He had overpacked, but he was a fashion student so the girls had expected nothing less.

Cassie drove them out of the airport parking lot and headed back to LSU's campus.

'I can't believe you're actually here' Daisy said, turning to face Carson in the backseat beside Bella.

'Neither can I. God, i'm so excited to party, and for Halloween. It's all that's gotten me through the past month.' Carson said as he held out his hands for Daisy to grab. She placed her two hands in his and they squeezed them together with an excited squeal.

'Not excited about sleeping on the floor though' Carson's smile dropped when he remembered the uncomfortable arrangements he would have to put up with while staying at the cramped dorm rooms of LSU.

'Don't worry, she sleeps in Joe's bed more than she sleeps in her own' Bella quips a joking jab from the backseat, letting Carson know that it was most likely he would have a bed to sleep in this trip.

Daisy turned sharply and shot Bella squinted daggers from her eyes. Carson laughed, he knew all about the little situation between Daisy and the quarterback. Daisy had been telling him every detail when it happened, keeping him up to date on any gossip she had.

'Joe's?' A sweet voice of deep confusion sounded out from the driver's seat. Every other head in the car turned to her with furrowed brows.

'Yeah, Cass. Joe Burrow's.' Bella reiterated.

'Why are you sleeping in Joe Burrow's bed?' Cassie's voice was somehow even more confused. Suddenly, it dawns on Daisy that she never told her about the regular hookups she was having with Joe, she had just assumed that she would have figured it out from the fact that she was almost never in the dorm anymore, or that Bella would have told her.

'You didn't tell her?' Bella shouted at her with an accusatory tone.

'I thought you would have' Daisy chirped back. Each of them being blamed for leaving Cassie out of the loop.

Cassie took her eyes of the road briefly to look between an arguing Bella and Daisy.

'I've been hooking up with him, casually' Daisy feels embarressed to say it, like she was some sort of failure. A hot flush was vibrant against her freckled cheeks.

'WHAT! For how long?' Cassie can't hide her shock.

'Almost two months now' Daisy, once again, is embarrassed. The words coming out her mouth like a whisper. Two months, she hadn't even realised it had been that long.

'Start from the beginning' Cassie commanded.

Daisy spent the rest of the drive back to campus explaining every detail of how Joe and her came to be in the place they were in now. Cassie clung to every word, her jaw hanging open in shock the whole journey. She couldn't believe it, Daisy and Joe Burrow, the nation's number one college quarterback. It was like it was written, like it was too perfect of a story to be real. Daisy throughout reiterated that it never meant anything, they weren't even friends and it was just a transactional agreement that benefitted them both.

Cassie didn't believe her for a second. Maybe, at this current moment, Daisy and Joe were nothing to each other. Maybe, at this current moment, they didn't care but if they had spent two months hooking up it meant they found each other likeable enough to stay around. Add sex multiple times a week into the equation and Cassie knew that it was only a matter of time before attachment began to form, jealousy grew and a chaotic mess would come with it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Voices bustled in the Baton Rouge bar as the girls, Carson and Justin sat at a dark lit table. Red neon signs depicting beer brands and cigarette companies were the main source of light. Another source was the television screen which showcased the lyrics to karaoke songs, ones drunken people sang out like nails on a chalkboard.

They had come out to celebrate Carson's arrival, it was always the tradition. Daisy had intended for it to just be the girls and Carson, but Justin had text her asking what she was doing tonight. At first it felt strange, to see a text from Justin and not have it come through Bella or Joe, but then she remembered it was Justin and her who were friends first. Even before she was friends with Bella, she was friends with Justin.

Since the whole Joe situation, their friendship had been weird. Daisy felt like she couldn't hang out with Justin without Joe freaking out, then an argument taking place about teammates and how she has been instructed to stay away from them.

She almost sent Justin back a lie. She almost told him that she was staying in and studying for the evening, but she stopped herself. Justin was her friend, and Joe would have to be a man and cope with it. So, she told Justin to join them at the bar down town. LSU's victory against Auburn at the weekend signified the start of a two week break in the football season, that meant they had a free week to blow of some steam.

Shot glasses filled with tequila tapped on the table before being tossed down their throats leaving behind a harsh burning feeling. Eye's clenched together tightly, faces being pulled in contortions as they tasted the strong liquor.

'We need more' Bella said with the slam of her hand on the scratched wooden table. Cassie and Carson tagged along with her to the crowded bar, leaving behind Daisy and Justin.

For a moment, the air around them is awkward. Neither of them know what to say to one another, conversation between them felt almost forbidden. Like they were committing a crime they would be punished for later.

'How you been, texas?' Justin starts of the conversation with a caring question.

They saw each other around the frat house often. Small waves and cheap greetings when they passed each other on the stairs as she tagged behind Joe. Bumping into each other in the kitchen as Justin made food and Daisy came down to grab some water. Neither of them lingered around for a conversation.

'I've been good, this semesters work has been rough though' Daisy told him, keeping focus of the topic on something other than Joe.

'How's football? I heard you guys have been playing good this season' Daisy continues.

Justin has to laugh at her understatement. LSU hadn't just been playing good, they had been playing the best college football in the country. They were undefeated, and no one knew a team that would be able to stop them. Every move, every pass of the ball, every touchdown, every play was convincing. Victories looked like early morning strolls through the park, too easy. Justin himself had been incredible, like a magician on the wing scoring touchdown after touchdown.

'Yeah ball's good. Gonna declare for the draft at the end of the season' Justin told her casually.

Daisy's eyes popped open in disbelief. Her brows knitted together in sorrow. She always knew Justin wouldn't complete his full college years but she though he would at least be staying for another. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, sadness welling within her.

'You're leaving' Her words were soaked in sorrow. Leaving from between her plump lips quiet and gently.

'I feel ready' Justin shrugged. 'I'll miss you though, you'll have to come visit. That's if you can stand to watch a football game by then' Justin's words are joking and light hearted. He didn't want to make the night a sad one, not since he knew how excited she had been to see Carson.

'I'll watch you' Daisy told him with a deep sincerity written across her creased forehead. Justin just nodded, noticing the return of Bella, Cassie and Carson with a tray of shots. Shot's they needed desperately to bring the mood back up.

They all grabbed two each and tossed them back.

A long, drunken night lay ahead of them.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe's thumb twirled on the joy sticks of his playstation controller and his fingers pressed the buttons violently. Ja'marr shouted at him through the headset as they played an intense game of Fortnite.

'Fuck!' Joe shouted as he died. Ja'marr was left to carry the hopes of the duo.

Joe pulled out his phone as he waited for Ja'marr to either lose or win the game. He scrolled through some social media, ending up reading some twitter posts about his season so far. Most of them were unsurprisingly positive, he was leading the race for the heismann trophy by a long shot. Other than the poor performance against Mississippi, he had been unstoppable. Then he opened up instagram. Aimlessly scrolling without any conscious thought until he saw Justin had posted a story.

Joe's brows furrowed. Ja'marr and him had tried texting Justin earlier but had no response. They even went and knocked on the door to his room to tell him to hop on the game but there was no response there either. They had just assumed he was taking a nap, he hadn't mentioned having plans or anything.

Joe clicked on the story.

When he saw it his stomach tightened in agitation. Displeasure ran through his body as he felt his adrenaline begin to spike. He sat upright in the beat up desk chair he was playing from, causing the joints of it the creak out in the quiet room. Subconsciously, he gripped his phone harder as he took in the image.

His eyes scanned over every detail of the image. It was a photo of Daisy, Justin and Carson. Joe only knew it was Carson because he had been tagged, as had Daisy.

He looked over Carson, recognising him as the guy that had been under many of Daisy's posts. Last name Ford -- clearly a relative of her ex boyfriend Lucas. Even if Joe hadn't have known his last name, he would have been able to tell from the guys appearance. Carson and Lucas looked scarily similar, almost twin-like, the only difference was their hairstyles, Carson's was longer and messy while Lucas' had a medium length mullet with shaven sides.

But Carson wasn't the problem Joe had with the photo.

It was Daisy and Justin.

They looked close. Daisy's back pressed against Justin's chest, her head leaning back on his shoulder. One of Justin's arms loosely wrapped around her. A mysterious drink in his other hand.

They were out, and Joe hadn't been told. His face hardened as his jaw clenched tightly, unable to stop himself looking over at the photo repeatedly. He analysed the way Daisy and Justin were close, bodies touching in a way that could be seen by some as more than friendly, something that looked flirty.

Daisy's eyes were shut, her pose slightly sloppy. Combine that with the cups of alcohol in Justin and Carson's hands, Joe was more than aware that they were all intoxicated. Even knowing that, Joe could not shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the fact that they had planned this without him. It felt like a big secret he was left out on, and he was never one to be left out. He was the number one quarterback and one of the most well known guys at LSU. People didn't leave Joe Burrow out.

'Did you know Daisy and Justin were hanging out tonight?' Joe interrogates Ja'marr down the headset. His tone almost accusatory and defensive.

'No way man, y'serious?' Ja'marr asks back, and Joe can tell he truly had no idea.

'Yeah, dude posted a photo with her' Joe tuts as he tells Ja'marr the details while still looking over the story. The place around them looked busy, likely some bar downtown. Red light flashed on their faces, either the flash of a camera or the light of a neon sign.

'Maybe Bella's there' Ja'marr tries to throw out an excuse for Justin. It's an excuse that was plausible. Joe trusted Justin, he knew he wouldn't do anything stupid. Justin wouldn't mess up the dynamic of the football team for the sake of Daisy, but the whole situation still sat uncomfortably in Joe's stomach. The same weird feeling he had been getting came back, clawing at the walls of his organs. A nauseous heat tingling across his skin.

'Yeah, probably' Joe locked his phone, tossed it on the floor beside him and tried to shake away the image that burned deep in his brain. He tried to stop himself seeing Daisy leant against Justin, a loose arm wrapped around her. They were friends, Joe was aware of that. Just friends. The photo was friendly. Joe reassured himself over and over in his head. Justin wouldn't so this to him. Daisy wouldn't do this to him.

But then again, maybe she would.

we're not friends Joey

The words from the bedroom creep back up his spine, only this time they aren't sexual - they're sinister. Daisy didn't owe him loyalty, it wasn't apart of the agreement. Sure, she was meant to stay away from teammates but this was a blurry line. Justin was in her life before she ever knew Joe. If somehow, she had found herself catching feelings for Justin then Joe would have to be the one to step aside. He came second. That's why he tried to keep her away from him. Justin was a threat. As much as Daisy tried to deny it and push it away, it was clear she had a type. Football players.

Joe gulped, the nausea now becoming intense and he couldn't understand why.

'I just checked Cassie's snapchat. Don't sweat man, they're all there' Ja'marr words hit Joe like a ice cold water on a summer afternoon. They cool the heat pricking at his skin, and refresh his blurry mind. His tense shoulders dropped, Justin was there with them all. A friend group night out, that was it.

Even with the new found information, Joe was still left with an unsettling feeling. Dread lingered in his stomach, like something bad was going to happen. It clawed at his skin and nibbled at his neck. A gut feeling that was unshakeble.

Joe went back to the game, loading up a new one in an attempt to ignore the feeling.

Hours past but he still found himself unable to shake it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The club was steamy, desire burned strongly in the air. The bass thumped from the DJ booth as R&B tunes filled up the room. Red lights flashed across the dance floor. Justin, Cassie and Daisy danced together. Carson had left earlier in the night with a boy he had met at one of the multiple bars they had visited. Bella had to leave when she realised she had an early morning class tomorrow, one she hadn't done any prep for.

The club signified their fifth and final establishment of the night. Liquor clung to their systems as their visions became blurry, footsteps stumbled and words slurred significantly. The three of them were borderline blackout, dangerously drunk. All thoughts and common sense inhibited by the vodka redbulls flushing through their insides.

It felt nice for it to just be the three of them, the original trio.

All night Daisy couldn't shake the fact that this was Justin's last year at LSU. That come summer Justin would be in the league. Most likely in a random city across America, miles away. Next year would feel empty, only now did she realise just how much Justin had come to be someone special in her life.

A yell from Cassie broke her sentimental thoughts.

'I'm gonna go' Cassie's words were heavy and tired, her blue eyes droopy and blood shot. Daisy nodded her head, taking her hand in her own leading her out of the cramped dance floor. Cassie brought up Uber on her phone as she slowly typed in the address of their dorm with squinted eyes.

'Let's all bounce.' Justin suggested. Daisy was about to nod her head, her desire to party was still strong but she couldn't stay out alone, when a hand grabbed the top of her bicep gently.

'Hey' A calm manly voice said from beside her. Her head followed the voice.

'Daniel' She smiled offering him a small hug. Daniel, the guy from the party that Joe had cruelly pushed, embraced her back. His hand rubbed her back sweetly. A warmth filled Daisy's chest. It had been a while since a guy had caressed her in a caring manner, in a way that was more than just for sex.

'This is crazy. Y'know I was thinking about you just this morning' Daniel sleazily flirts, his attitude was slightly different than it had been at the party. He was more confident, more arrogant. Daisy was too drunk to really acknowledge it, she knew something was different but her drunken fingers couldn't place what it was.

Daisy laughed in response, her head shaking every so slightly.

'You want a drink?' Daniel asked her, leaning close into her ear. So close, she could feel his warm breath on her skin and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

'We're leaving' The authoritative voice of Justin carried through the dense air of the club.

Daniel looked at him, a glint Justin was unable to read in his eye. The look made Justin feel weird, like something wasn't right.

'That's too bad, I was wanting to see you again' Daniel once again flirted with a flushed cheeked Daisy.

'Maybe I could stay' Daisy looked at Justin, almost asking him for permission and reassurance. 'I feel fine, and I wanna dance some more' She continued.

Justin looked at Daniel like a protective brother. His brown eyes harsh scanning the intention behind Daniel's actions. Justin hadn't heard anything bad about the guy, he was just some lacrosse player and he was in one of his friends finance classes. A typical fraternity brother. He looked at Daisy, she was drunk but she wasn't as drunk as Cassie, her words were spoken clearer and there was no sign of a drunken glaze over her sage eyes.

Justin kissed his teeth.

'You're a grown woman, if you wanna stay I trust your judgement, but promise me you'll call if you need somethin'' Justin told her sternly. Daisy nodded her head excitedly, her eyes flicking to Daniel's and then back to Justin's.

Daniel smiled smugly victorious, a wide hand laying on the small of Daisy's back.

'Let's go, Cass' Justin said after he gave Daisy a tight hug goodbye and a stern look. One that let her know once again to be careful and contact him if something felt wrong. Daisy watched them as they disappeared out the front doors of the cramped club.

'So, that drink?' Daniel whispered in her ear, she looked back at him with a cheeky smile and a subtle nod of the head before heading off towards the bar.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The frat boy friends of Daniel stood on the outskirts of the dark and crowded dance floor as Daniel and Daisy danced the night away together. The atmosphere felt weird. Daisy would see them out the corner of her eye, whispering and pointing with each other while their eyes remained on her. The uncomfortable feeling sent shivers down her spine, her hairs stood up on her skin despite the warm temperature of the nightclub.

She had tried to ask Daniel what his friends were talking about but Daniel just got sharply defensive. 'Nothing' He spat at her as he instructed her to just keep dancing. The words and atmosphere were sobering. The sudden realisation of her murky surroundings and poor choice to stay weighed on her mind. Daniel wasn't acting the way he had been at the frat party, the once charming man was no longer that. He was condescending and domineering, patronising and dictatorial. Firm hands gripped on her waist, the sensation almost pinching, leaving behind a painful sting that she didn't enjoy.

She glanced once again at Daniels friends.

They were lined up on the side, each of them with narcissistic grins. They were looking at her like she was simply an item they could objectify, a piece of meat they could devour. Lustful stares tracing her body.

A sense of deep unease thudded in her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she realised the situation she was in. She needed to get out, she needed to leave the club and do it quickly.

'I got to go pee' She told Daniel, trying to keep her voice sickly sweet and flirtatious as to not alert him.

He rolled his eyes, but let his hands drop from her waist, setting her free.

She rushed to the bathroom, pushing her way through the drunken crowd. Tears welled in her eyes, not from built upon sorrow but panic. The nervous feeling pulsed through every thought and feeling in her body.

When she got inside, she ran cold water over her wrists to try and calm herself down. An effort to try and still the shakes that overtook her body. Then she rushed inside a stall, sliding the stiff lock with a clicking sound. She sat on the toilet seat and rummaged through her bag, picking up her phone.

She tried ringing Justin.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer

She tried again.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer. A hushed 'fuck' left her lips, her hands shaking as she scrolled through other contacts. She couldn't contact Cassie, she would be both asleep and useless in a situation like this. Bella would be asleep, and Carson was god knows where.

Her eyes glanced over Ja'marr's name.

She pressed on his contact, then pressed the call button. Her breath was held in her throat and silent prayers to a higher power sounded out through her mind.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer. She tried him once again, but he didn't pick up.

That's when she saw the contact beneath. Somehow, his name seemed to shine brighter, almost taunting her. She didn't want to call him, especially not since she was here with Daniel but she was out of options.

She clicked on his name, and was about to press the call button when a woman voice shouted through the girls toilets.

'Is there a Daisy in here?, Daniel's waiting by the door for you'

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her breathing became rapid as panic clung to her lungs. She stayed quiet. The situation had now escalated to dangerous, Daniel was waiting for her like some sort of obsessive stalker.

Without hesitating, she clicked on the call icon under Joe's name.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer.

'No, no, no, come on' Daisy's words were quiet and shaky. Emotion stuck in her throat as she became aware of just how much she needed his help.

She pressed the call button again.

*ring, ri-* 'Hello?' Joe's confused and groggy voice sounded out through the phone. Daisy let out a heavy breath of relief.

'What you calling me for' Joe was disgruntled by the late night call, one which had clearly awoken him from sleep.

'I need your help' Daisy trembled, each breath shakier than the last as she held back tears. Joe could sense her fear through the phone, and the sound of her voice almost startled him. He had never heard her sound like she did on the phone call. It was enough to make him feel alarmed.

'Why? What's happened, Dais?' Joe's tone is strong and firm yet somehow gentle, not wanting to scare her anymore than she already was. His mind was running at a mile a minute, thinking the worst. Where was Justin? Why was he not with her? Why wasn't he helping her?

Joe had already got out of bed, throwing on some clothes in case he needed to leave.

'There are some guys' Daisy starts, her voice breaking. 'I don't know, Joe. They're acting weird, they're scaring me.' Terror flooded through her cautious voice.

'What guys? Where are you?' Joe pushed further, demanding to know more detail of what was happening.

Daisy let out a wavering breath.

'Daniel and his friends' Daisy's words were soft and low, almost like she was embarrassed to admit them and she feared the reaction she was going to get from Joe.

On the other end of the phone, Joe rolled his eyes. Throwing his head back in anger as he pulled the phone away from his mouth so she wouldn't hear his grumbles of agitation. Of course. Daniel the fucking lacrosse player. Joe thought he had already dealt with him but it appeared not.

He put the phone back to his ear.

'Fuck's sake, Daisy' His tone is almost scolding and it made Daisy sink further into the toilet seat of bathroom stall.

'I'm in the bathroom, I can't leave. He's waiting for me' Her voice, once more, is hushed and shaky. She knows she should have left with Justin, she knows that she had made this night a mess. Guilt crawled up her limbs, scratching at her skin. She hated feeling like an inconvenience and right now, that's how she felt to Joe.

'Where are you?' Joe commanded. Blunt words seething from his tongue. He wasn't angry at Daisy, he was angry at Daniel, he was angry at Justin. He was angry at every decision that had been made for Daisy to end up in the position she was in. If he had been there, none of this would of happened. He would have made sure of it.

'The Social Lounge' Daisy's small voice whispered back to him.

'I'll be there in fifteen, don't leave the bathroom. I'll come get you. Y'understand' Joe grabbed the keys from his desk and slid on some beat up nike trainers, rushing down the stairs of the quiet frat house.

'I understand' Daisy confirmed.

Joe hung up the phone and started up his car. Anger dripped from his skin. Knuckles white as his hands clenched over the leather steering wheel. Adrenaline pumping through his body.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe flashed his ID at the bouncer before he pushed his way into the dingy club. He was underdressed, baggy grey sweatpants hanging loosely from his waist and a plain black hoodie draping from his broad shoulders. The only reason he had been let in was because he was Joe Burrow and the club's security were LSU football fans.

He scouted out the place, eyes darting across all the signs as he searched for the women's bathroom.

He could feel eyes on him as people recognised him, he needed to get in and out as quick as possible before drunken students and football fans inevitably started asking him for photos.

In the corner of the dance floor, he notices some guys he recognises. Boys from frat houses down the row from his own. He doesn't know for sure if they were Daniel's friends but he has to assume. He pushes his way closer to them, sliding through open pockets of stumbling people. An intense glare focussed on them, making sure they wouldn't escape him.

When he reaches them, he grabs one of them forcefully by the blue creased shirt he was wearing. The guy looks back at him, eyes wide as he was taken off guard.

'Joe?' The guy talks to him like he knew him. He didn't. Many people thought they knew Joe but very few actually did. Only the small circle of people he allowed in. Sure, he had probably spoke to these guys at a party or three in his time at college but he never cared enough to get their names. These guys were no-ones, they were nothing. People who would reach the peak of their lives in college and then never do anything afterwards. They were losers, Joe didn't surround himself with losers.

'You know Daniel?' Joe snarled at him. A deep growl climbing from the depths of his chest.

The guy nodded quickly, a guilty look flashing briefly across his face as if he already knew what he had done wrong.

'Where?' was all Joe's hoarse voice said.

The guy nodded his head over to the direction of the bathroom. Joe turned his head and spotted him. When he did, he let go of the shirt he was clutching tightly and gave him a light push before he headed back across the dark and heavy dance floor.

Daniel was pacing in front of the door to the women's bathroom. Agitation and impatience evident in each step he took. Lazy hands running through his hair, almost pulling at it as he waited for Daisy. When the door would open, he would try and peek inside to see if he could see her. He was peeking again, when a ominous figure in the corner of his eye interrupted him.

His eyes turned to the figure.

Joe's stood looking at him with a loathing repulsion, his eyes like pointed daggers with fury flaming behind them. Staring at him, up and down.

Daniel's face twists and sours as he finds himself caught red handed. He's lucky there in a club filled with people watching his every move, because had they not been, had they been somewhere more private, something more violent would have played out.

Joe placed a wide hand on the door of the women's bathroom and firmly pushed it open, not looking inside.

'DAISY. LET'S GO' He loudly shouts, his eyes still firmly on the face of Daniel. He watches as the lacrosse players cheeks burn scarlett. Humiliation stinging his skin.

A stall lock clicks open.

Daisy coyly walks out the bathroom door which Joe held open. Her eyes irritated and red from shed tears. She refuses to look in the direction of Daniel, instead she just keeps her head down. Her hands nervously scraped at the broken skin around her cuticles. Joe let the door swing closed. His hand pressed firmly on the small of her back, he guided her through the club and kept her close. His chest hovering against her shoulders, never letting his touch leave her or letting her out of his sight until they exited through the tinted glass doors.

When the biting breeze of the late October night hit, Daisy felt herself breath a deep sigh of relief. A breath she had been holding in her chest for a long time. Joe let his hand drop, no longer did he linger around her protectively. Instead, he walked in front of her to his car he had parked outside.

Daisy followed.

Joe slammed the door to his car as he got inside. Daisy shut her's carefully. The keys turned in the ignition and the dashboard illuminated with various lights.

The environment around them was almost suffocating with tension. Daisy could feel the intense wrath vibrating off him as he clenched his palms around the steering wheel.

'Thank you' Daisy uttered shyly, glancing at Joe only briefly as he drove her home. Joe didn't reply, only causing the tension between them to build.

Minutes of silence went by like hours.

'I'm sor-' She tried to break the thick silence between them once again.

'Don't Daisy.' Joe shut her down. Dull blue eyes focussed only on the road. He was in no mood to talk about it. She needed him, he turned up. That was it. She didn't need to apologise, no matter how much the events of the night had annoyed him. and they had. The night had cut him deep, an aching through his bones. Why was she with Daniel? He didn't think he wanted to know why. It served as a stark reminder of what the situation between them was -- no strings, no attachment. Daisy didn't think about Joe, and Joe wouldn't let himself think about her.

They were good sex, and nothing beyond that.

She kept quiet the rest of the journey. Her teeth biting at her swollen lips, ripping at the thin skin. Her puffy eyes only looking at the passing streetlights illuminating the night sky. Alcohol numbing her body, mind and soul. Tiredness gnawing at her aching limbs.

She just wanted to be back at campus, tucked into a warm bed and to forget this mess of a night ever existed.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe swung his car around the corner of campus, driving past the dorms where Daisy lived. He felt her look at him, he saw her head snap confusingly towards him but he just kept his eyes forward.

She could stay with him tonight. It was the only way Joe could think of making her feel safe, the scared shaky voice of her phone call repeated constantly in his mind.

He pulled up to his place, parking the car in the usual spot.

They walked into the frat house together, although Daisy lingered behind. Her feet dragged against the floor. She felt like a scolded child, yet Joe's actions were anything but scolding. He had picked her up from an uncomfortable situation, protected her and now had brought her back to his home.

Once again, his signal's were blurry and difficult to make sense of.

He grabbed two waters from the refrigerator and handed her one. She offered him a half smile, a cowered and guilty one.

Footsteps made her look up and Joe turn around. Both of them wondering who would be awake in the house so late at night.

'Daisy?' Justin's concerned voice called out as he saw her, he noticed the swollen and bloodshot eyes, the puffy cut up lips and the timid exterior.

'What happened?' Justin's voice was unsteady with nerves. Guilt flickered across his face and his eyebrows folded in shame. He had been taking a shower when she called him, he had tried to phone her back but there was no answer.

Daisy opened her mouth to reply, to let him know it was nothing and that he shouldn't worry himself, but Joe beats her to it.

'You left her alone in a fuckin' club, that's what happened' Joe snapped, words sharply flying from his mouth and hitting an already guilt stricken Justin like hard jabs to the stomach.

Joe looked over his shoulder, his worn blue eyes meeting Daisy's properly for the first time since he picked her up from the club. He almost winced seeing how red and pain filled they were. Just because their arrangement was casual and transactional, didn't mean he didn't care for her on a human level. She had been frightened, the image he created in his mind of her hidden in a dirty bathroom stall only made the feeling grow stronger. He nodded his head in the direction of the deep wooden staircase. An instruction that she should go up them.

It was an instruction she followed.

Her jittery hand placed on the dark bannister to aid her up the stairs which in this moment seemed steeper than ever. She offered a sympathetic smile and kind doe eyes to Justin, who stood below, watching her walk away from him. He felt horrible, she could see it written across his face and the guilt ate at her bones. Justin didn't need to feel guilty, she was an adult, who made a decision to stay in a place she shouldn't have, with people she barely knew. If anyone was to be blamed it was her.

'Fuckin' stupid' Joe muttered under his breath, kicking Justin when he was down before he stomped up the stairs behind Daisy.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

When they woke up the next day, the night before ceased to exist. Joe not wanting to know the details of the night and Daisy not wanting to tell him.

An unspoken agreement that it would be swept under the rug.

Daniel and his fraternity had been blacklisted from all events Joe and his own fraternity were involved in. That meant that Daisy would likely never have to see them again, and for that she was eternally grateful. Joe had made the phone calls in the morning, while a hungover and anxiety riddled Daisy listened from the warmth of his deep blue bed sheets. That was all that was said about the night.

Then they spent the rest of the day together, casual sex and video games taking up the lazy hours. In the evening, she left discreetly through the back door of the fraternity. A text from Carson letting her know that he was back on campus pulled her from Joe's bed. She headed back across campus to her dorm, meeting up with Cass and Carson. A full detailed debrief of the night before taking place.

Then, all attention turned to preparations for the biggest party of the year, almost every student on campus would be there.

Come Friday night, lines of people and packed crowds in fancy dress would crawl house to house as each fraternity threw a colourful rager.

Come Friday night, it was Halloween.

౨ৎ

[ghostgirl-22]

art fucking/getting fucked by a random dude and patrick finds out and gets jealous so he also sleeps with the dude as revenge or smth. they both pretend the dude is the other one.

hope you get what i’m trying to say :3

Yes i get it—im with you anon!! They’re so silly. Using this poor guy as a proxy for each other. This is a little bit of a post break up au for you anonnie— hehe.

CW: NSFW MDNI

___

Patrick shows up because of course he does. 

He wouldn’t answer a 3 am call for his own siblings but for Art Donaldson apparently he’d still do anything. He rolls down the window to wake himself up but also some part of him hopes the crisp air of the early spring night will bring him to his senses. That he’ll make a u-turn and go back to his apartment and pretend none of this happened. It’s not his fucking problem anymore. He scrolls his phone at the red light. Texts starting around midnight and getting more and more incoherent. Starting with: 

Hey you're in Boston right? I’m in town for this wedding thing— my cousins wedding. 

My aunt was asking about you. 

Remember that bar O’malleys we snuck into when we were 19? I’m here if you wanna stop by.

He’d stared at the messages mildly confused. Unsure of how to feel. All of it so out of the blue. Part of him would believe Art’s phone was stolen if he hadn’t mentioned O’Malley’s. The memories of that place clear as if it was yesterday sneaking in when Art’s cousin worked on shift. Summer nights with live music, dancing with hot 21 year olds, and way too much to drink. The thought of it making him nostalgic. Nostalgia laced with bitterness. After years of no contact then it’s just… hey I’m in your city at a family wedding you weren’t invited to want to get drunk?  

He ignores the texts. And every text that follows but as a true masochist he stays up late to watch them come in. Each one drunker and more desperate than the last. They stop around two in the morning and distantly Patrick wonders if he should be worried.  He had to shake himself out of that mindset. Art is a big boy. Art is and adult. Art didn’t choose you. No one did. He’d fallen into a fitful sleep when his phone started buzzing non stop. A call. He almost didn’t pick up, but part of him was so surprised that Art actually had the balls to call him. 

“It’s three in the fucking morning,” he says coolly. 

“Please, Patrick please ‘m at this bar. ‘m really drunk. ‘m sorry to bother you. I just can’t—I can’t— i cant drive— i think I’m gonna be sick.”

Patrick doesn’t realize he’s grinding his teeth until he opens his mouth to take a breath. He can tell that Art’s probably been crying  just from the way he’s breathing. “Stay there. I’ll come get you.”   

He still hates himself as he pulls up to O’Malleys. This Irish pub not far from his sometimes girlfriends place. He and Art had taken the train here plenty of times all those summers they’d spent roaming around downtown Boston when Art would come stay with his Aunt and Patrick would come down from his parents estate on Martha’s Vineyard and stay with him in the city. It feels like it was a different life now. One he can’t believe was his.

The bar is clearly closed, though some patrons are still lingering. Art’s on the outdoor patio furniture talking to some guy. Tall, lanky, bent over… he’s rubbing circles along Art’s back as he takes a sip of whatever clear liquid is in the glass. If he’s smart… its water. 

Patrick actually realizes he’s grinding his teeth this time. “Hey!” He calls out the window. 

Art recognizes his voice but he’s not the only one that looks over to Patrick. Tall and lanky and (somewhat handsome apparently) is staring too, along with a couple of older women sitting on a planter having a cigarette. 

Art makes his apologies to tall and lanky and stumbles towards Patrick’s car. He’s sloppy, messy drunk. Clothes all wrinkled. Hair disheveled. His jacket open, fly half zipped. He gets in and shuts the door weakly behind him. Patrick leans over him and pulls it shut properly before peeling off without a word. 

“‘m sorry,” Art says. “‘m sorry Patrick.” He says again when Patrick doesn’t respond.  And Patrick gets the sense he’s apologizing for more than just tonight. “Thank you for coming. ‘m sorry. ‘Mm so embarassed.” 

“what street does she live off of again?” Patrick asks about his aunt. 

“Please i— i can’t go there. Not like this.”  

Patrick huffs a laugh, incredulous. “well where the fuck do you want me to take you?” 

Art starts to take little shaky breaths like he’s gonna cry. Patrick hates himself. Hates that those sniffles still make him care. Make him feel responsible. “I did something bad. I— i did something really bad.” 

“What did you do, Art? Kill someone?” Patrick mutters dryly.  

“No,” he exclaims quickly. “I uh… well… i had sex.” 

Patrick grips the steering wheel tighter. “Who fucking cares? You’re a grown up. You’ve had sex before.”

“No… i mean…” he sniffles. “Not… it was sex with… I can’t face her like this… my aunt…s-she wouldn’t understand. God.” He pulls a few condoms from his pocket and drops them into Patricks empty cup holder. “This was a mistake.”

“You think she’s gonna smell it on you and kick you out?”  Patrick glances at Art and he looks miserable. Patrick feels a small twist of sadistic satisfaction somewhere deep down. Maybe he’s not the only one struggling. Then he remembers the way Arts career is taking off and his impotent frustration with him returns even stronger.

“It’s…you know how my aunt is. Really religious. And i let the bartender… i let him fuck me. I let him… god just a fucking stranger he was so nice and funny and his accent was cute and i was really drunk so… i let him…” he’s wiping his nose on his wrists. Eyes all wet. 

“Oh.” Patrick feels this tight bitter lump growing in his throat. His heart rate picking up. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Doesn’t really trust himself to say anything that isn’t gonna come out bitter and desperate. 

His mind returning to the moment he’d pulled up in front of the bar. Art on the patio furniture. The tall lanky somewhat handsome guy massaging his back. Feeding him water. Taking care of him. That stupid guy. That fucking random stranger. Taking it just like that. After years and years of… of what…

Is Patrick admitting it? Admitting it even to himself what he desires. It makes him feel weak. Makes him hate himself even more. Art can push him out. Push him away. Take Tashi’s side. So easy and so cold. Knowing how much Patrick loved liked her. Knowing how much Patrick loved him. No words. No apologies. Just this out of the fucking blue. And now he’s fucked some guy. Giving a stranger what should have been Patrick’s. Giving him what Patrick fucking deserves especially after all Art has put him through.

“I’m so fucking embarrassing. I know its… I’m not even into guys I just. I’m so… i don’t know why i did it… ” Art sniffles quietly. “Can you stop, please? I think I’m really gonna be sick.”

Patrick pulls over on the side of the road. Watching Art bend over a public trash can. He should be glad Arts having this reaction to it but his own stomach is twisting into knots. His chest aches and the lump in his throat is so large it's difficult to swallow.

All those touches between them that lingered too long… all the times Art would self consciously push Patrick away whenever other people were around. The lie he told Tashi.  “No, no, nothing… is that surprising?” 

And Patrick let him lie. Even backed him up. Because sharing clothes, crawling into the same bed, sleeping tangled up with each other, wet dreams. Touching themselves in the same bed, sitting too close together, hearts racing when they finish, filling the awkward space with heightened giggles. Dumb secrets. It was all just nothing.

And yet even now, Patrick knows he’s gonna cave. That he’ll bring Art back to his shitty one bedroom. Let him sleep it off.

“I don’t know why i did it…” is all Art can say. Head resting on the car window, street lights flash across his body, illuminating his tear streaked face as they drive home. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

Patrick is burning up inside. More than usual. Teeth grinding in a way that kinda hurts. This hurts but he’s not going to admit that. “Was it the guy giving you water?”

Art sniffles. “Um… yeah. Justin um… Fuck.” He laughs but theres no mirth in it. “I don’t even know his last name.”   

Patrick bites his tongue to stop himself from saying what he wants to say. Things that will make Art hurt as much as him. Maybe more. “So you dont like guys… but you like Justin no last name?” Patrick says quietly. He hopes he sounds as even and uncaring to Art as he’s trying to be.

”I know you don’t believe me.” He lifts his head and rolls the window down. “It was a mistake. I’ve never— I swear I’ve never done that before. I had too much to drink.” 

They get home and Patrick lets him upstairs. The place is bland, undecorated. Patrick’s barely affording the $900 a month as is. His furniture all comes from ikea or its makeshift. Art doesn’t ask any questions, he just uses the bathroom and plops down on Patrick’s sofa. Thankfully before Patrick says anything because Patrick is pathetic enough he probably would have let him have the bed. 

“I can be out of your hair in the morning,” He promises when Patrick comes back with a flimsy blanket. He curls up and Patrick hears him snoring not too long later. Patrick’s in his bedroom looking at the blank wall. at the blinking red dots in the center of his digital clock radio. Almost 5 in the morning. He can’t stop thinking about it. 

I let him fuck me. I let him fuck me.

Patrick can see the guys face so clearly in his head and he’s furious. He’s been to O’malleys enough times. He’s been served by Justin. Never bothered to learn his fucking name. 

He eases his hand into his sweats. He’s so hard it’s embarrassing. He jerks himself off. Cursing Justin. Cursing Art. Cursing the idea of them pressed up against each other in a messy bar bathroom. Justin fucking into him— his dumb voice getting pitchy. Maybe he’s whining asking Justin to take it slow cause he’s never had sex with a man before. Patrick would’ve taken it slow. Patrick would’ve kissed his throat, nibbled hickies so everyone at the wedding would know what Art did last night. So he’d have to tell his aunt some kinda lie. Patrick squeezes a little tighter. So horny he doesn’t even have the patience to spit in his hand to help the chafing.

Maybe Justins big. Maybe he’s huge. Maybe he’s got a bigger fucking dick than Patrick does. Maybe he made Art moan for it. Act like a slut for it. Blue eyes rolling back because of how good it feels. Then all at once Patrick’s coming. Its been less than a minute and he’s breathless against his blanket. After all this fucking time.

Fuck this. Fuck him. 

Art does leave the next morning (closer to afternoon) as he promised. Makes it to the wedding on time.

*

Justin is working again tonight at O’Malleys. Hes a real friendly guy. Tall, handsome and flirtatious. Patrick’s been flirting with him for an hour now. Justin seems to like his company. Eyes lingering on his smile, his body.

“That one’s on the house,” he says, in his regrettably sexy Irish lilt.

“Oh thats nice of you, how will i ever repay the favor,” Patrick says, raising his shotglass with a smirk before swallowing it down.

Justin grins, “I can think of a few ways.” 

Patrick leans forward on the bar. “What times your break?”

*

The drinks are stronger than he anticipated. He feels it all when they’re in the small space of the backseat of Patrick’s jeep and he’s fumbling with a lubricated condom. 

He’s trying to be cool and sexy and just like the hottest fuck of this guys life. Wants to make himself forget all about Art but hes so buzzed he feels a little dizzy. 

“Those shots taste delicious, huh?” Justin teases. Patrick wonders if the accent is what made Art fall for him. Or is it his hair? (Full head of thick dark hair). Or his hands? he’s got big hands but Patrick thinks his are bigger. Maybe it was the kiss?  (It was… fine… he’s fine… but Patrick still doesn’t understand what makes him so fucking special). 

He manages to roll the condom on before he grabs at Justin's jeans and makes quick work of getting them down so he can see what he’s working with. Boxer briefs, like what Art started to wear shortly before he left for Stanford. 

Of course. Of course. 

Patrick can see Art in briefs just like this. 

Rolling in dizziness of the alcohol, his heart pounding in his ears Patrick bends him over. He’s imagining Art doing this. On his hands and knees in the backseat, sliding the briefs down. Imagining Art wiggling for him as he grabs him by the waist… slides his dick between the crevice of his ass cheeks. 

“Mm your so ready for me, aren't you?” Patrick sighs and there's a soft answering moan.

God. Art was just like this. Slutty waist bent in half. Perfect little ass. Presenting for him. For him. Patrick can’t wait another minute, he grabs him by the waist and presses himself inside. 

Oh. Oh god.

It’s so tight.

So virgin fucking tight, the heated ring of muscles practically choking his dick. “Fuck yes, oh so tight for me Art. I can barely fit… fuck.” He hums. “Gonna open you up… make it easier to take. I promise.”

“Mm it’s cause I don’t usually bottom… but you’re so hot I couldn’t resist… should’ve known you’d be massive.” The voice shocks Patrick back to reality. He’s not Art. But Art did this. Art bent over like this. His Art. Just like this.

Patrick takes his time rocking into him. Heartbeat in his ears, sliding in and out. His body starts to relax… accommodating the size. The whole time Patrick’s brain keeps imagining that Art felt this tight. That Art moaned just like this. That Art began to push back as he got used to it… just like this and before long Patrick isn’t sure what’s in his head and what’s real… but he knows the word mine keeps slipping from his mouth. Distantly Patrick is aware but he can’t stop. Can’t slow down. Art beneath him. Art whining and moaning like a…

“That’s right… take it you fucking slut.” Patrick hisses. “On top of everything else who knew you were a slut? Taking anything, anyone. Fuck you. You don’t even fucking deserve this.” He’s grunting, the pace of his hips rapid as he chases his own pleasure. Fingers gripping tight enough to bruise. The car rocking gently with the force of it.  Patrick feels it… slowly building and then its all of a sudden. “Oh shit,” he grabs hold of Art’s cock and starts to jerk him. “Fuck… oh fuck, Art… I’m gonna—“  He cuts himself off with a loud groan, filling the condom up. He keeps jerking him off… a few more rough strokes and he’s shocked back into reality again when Justin grunts out his own orgasm and Patrick sits back feeling dizzy and mildly unsettled. 

”Fuck,” Justin gasps. As they both breathlessly try to put themselves back together. “You can’t possibly be the Patrick.” 

“What’s that mean?” Patrick squints, tying off the condom and shoving it into an old grocery bag that’s become his makeshift trash bag. 

“Last night I met this guy, a blond, who claimed he was waiting on his friend, Patrick. Except he never showed up… and I felt a little bad cause he seemed lonely.” (Patrick almost feels bad for that… almost). Justin wiggles his hips, lifting his jeans up over his ass. “I thought he was really cute… so I might have made a few too many mixed drinks for him, on the house. I thought I was cheering him up… getting him to smile. Long story short we ended up going outside for a cigarette and that turned into sex up against the wall of the alleyway, with one of these that I’d grabbed from the bowl behind the till…” he picks up the condom wrapper and tosses it into the makeshift trash bag.  “and the whole time he’s calling me Patrick. Telling me how much he thought about me. How sorry he is. How bad he wanted me to fuck him. How much he just needed to feel it.” 

Patrick’s eyebrows fly up towards his hairline. 

“So I just go with it… I’m thinking who fucking cares… let the poor cute guy call me by his exes name. But then the next night here you come…  calling me by one of the most unique names I’ve ever heard and it just so happens to be… last nights boy toys name. Art. He’s a tennis player, ring a bell?”

Patrick can’t help smirking. “What else did he say about me?”

”Well afterwards he broke down in tears and I was trying to calm him down and… did you… it was you… last night in the car.”

“I did pick him up.” Patrick admits.

“Oh fuck, I’m… did he tell you about me?”

Patrick shrugs and Justin grins. “He told you and you came to find me. Well don’t I feel fuckin special.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Patrick says, lightly. 

“No I’m sure it has nothing to do with me… but do you need a third? Cause, holy fuck I’ll be honest, after being dicked down like that by an ex… I’d sit in a bar by myself and get drunk enough to cry too.” 

That actually makes Patrick laugh. 

Justin leaves shortly after to finish his shift. “I wouldn’t drive tonight if I were you, maybe call your ex,” he smirks before getting out and leaving Patrick alone.  

It’s perfect actually. Patrick texts Art, time for you to return the favor.

*

It’s after Art’s snuck him into his aunts house at 1 in the morning that Patrick explains himself (“By the way I fucked that bar tender… the one you let fuck you last night. he told me all about what you really wanted.”) And Art, who’s gone all cherry red and incredulous, doesn’t protest for very long after Patrick gets his mouth on him. And in the familiar room they shared during high school summers, with Art’s religious aunt just a few bedrooms away, they’re all over each other in the race to each make the other forget all about Justin.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

(Another angst unrequited love fic

Title:"The Fender Bender

> "You blind or just stupid?"

Pete DiNunzio slams his car door shut, stalking toward your crumpled bumper with the grace of a pissed-off raccoon.

"Jesus, what the hell were you doing? Jerking off behind the wheel?"

You step out, heart already racing—not from the crash, but from him. Pete. That Pete.

> "Nice to see you too, DiNunzio."

"Wait... No way. Are you—?" He squints. His face softens just a little before jerking back into that familiar scowl. "You gotta be shitting me."

> "Hi."

"Holy crap. You got older."

"So did you."

"Yeah, well. Life’s a bitch." He waves at your cars. "So is your driving."

You both laugh, despite the dented metal between you.

---

Two Weeks Later

Your phone buzzes.

> [Pete D] “u owe me a drink. unless ur scared of me now”

You:

> “i’ve always been scared of you.”

> [Pete D] “good. meet me @ dex’s. 8. wear a helmet”

---

The Hangout

Dex’s Bar is a dive with flickering lights and one broken stool. Pete’s already there, beer half-gone, tapping his chipped lighter on the table.

> "Look who showed. I was this close to thinking you ghosted me."

"What, and miss the chance to see if you’re still a jerk?"

"You hope I’m still a jerk."

He’s quieter now. Rough around the edges in a way that doesn’t look deliberate. Not like high school. This isn’t some persona. It’s just who he became.

> "You ever think about high school?" he asks suddenly, staring at his glass.

"Not really. Why?"

"’Cause I do."

He flicks his lighter again. "Mostly about you."

> "Me?"

"Yeah." He snorts. "You were the hot girl who didn’t know she was hot. Or maybe you did and you were just nice to me outta pity."

You blink. "I wasn’t nice out of pity, Pete."

He stares at you, and for the first time all night, his voice cracks.

> "You were the only one who ever looked at me like I wasn’t just some f*up with a smart mouth and a porn addiction."

You hesitate. "What do you want me to say?"

> "Nothing," he mutters. "Just needed to say that out loud before it festered anymore."

---

Later That Night

You're outside his place. You weren’t planning to go in, but he invites you with a shrug and a:

> "Don’t worry, I cleaned the worst of the mold."

His apartment smells like burnt coffee and old socks. A broken mask from some horror movie hangs on the wall.

He pours you two shots of something warm and mean.

> "So, you seeing anyone?"

"No."

"Figures. You're always chasing guys too good to deserve you."

You sigh. "And you're still pretending like you never cared."

Pete doesn’t speak. Just leans back on the couch, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the stained ceiling.

> "I used to jerk off to the idea of you saying my name."

"Pete—"

"Don’t act shocked. I’m not romantic, babe. I’m real."

You sit in silence. He swallows hard.

> "I didn’t think anyone would ever love me. Not really. Not me me."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m gross. Loud. Got anger issues. I’m broke. I’ve never been with anyone sober who didn’t regret it afterward. Why the f** would anyone want this?*"

He gestures to himself, broken and bitter.

You want to say something. But nothing comes.

So he says it for you.

> "It’s okay. I know you don’t. Not like that."

"Pete—"

"Don't." He laughs, but it’s not a good laugh. "You're good. Too good. You still see the best in people, huh? Even when they're f*ing ruined?"

He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice shaking.

> "I just wish... I wish I’d been less of a coward. Maybe if I told you back then... maybe you’d be mine now."

> "You don’t know that."

"*I do. ‘Cause I knew you. And I knew me. And I was never gonna be the guy you picked."

You look at him. His eyes are glassy, cheeks red. Not drunk—just done.

> "You want me to stay?"

"Nah."

He smiles, but it’s all teeth and no warmth. "You should go. Before I say something that makes you hate me."

You leave.

He doesn’t watch you go.

But he listens for the sound of the door closing.

---

Later

You get one last text.

> [Pete D] “u made me feel like i wasn’t scum. no 1 else ever did that. thx”

You never reply.

Because you know he didn’t want a conversation. He just wanted to be heard—just once, by the girl he never stopped imagining.

Even if it never meant anything to you the same way it did to him.

---

A Week Later – You Invite Him Over

It’s late. You’re not sure why you texted Pete. Maybe part of you felt sorry for him. Maybe you were just curious. Whatever it was, he shows up looking exactly how you remember him: pissed off and pretending not to care.

He’s got a six-pack in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, his hair messy, like he’d been fighting with himself the whole walk over.

> "This ain't a fuckin' date," he grunts as you open the door. "Don't get ideas."

> "You always this charming, or just with old friends?"

"Friends? Pfft. We weren’t friends. You were hot. I was horny. Let’s not rewrite history, sweetheart.*"

He pushes past you like it’s his place, drops the six-pack on your table but doesn’t crack one open.

> "So. This where you live now? Kinda sad."

> "Thanks, Pete."

"Just sayin’. You always seemed like one of those girls who’d end up with, like, a yoga studio and three dogs."

"Guess I disappointed you."

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

He doesn’t smile. Just stands there, chewing the inside of his cheek like he’s trying not to say something worse. You finally sit, and he follows, but he won’t relax. Just leans forward, elbows on his knees, twitching.

> "Y’know I used to jerk off to you? Back in high school."

> "Jesus, Pete."

"What? You invited me here. You knew who I was."

You don’t answer. He lets the silence stretch, then:

> "Can’t even talk to girls without thinkin’ about fuckin’ ‘em. Can’t remember the last time I looked at someone and thought somethin’ nice instead of somethin’ dirty or violent. Ain’t normal. I know that."

> "Where’s this comin’ from?"

"Nowhere." He sniffs. "Everywhere. You, probably."

He leans back, arms folded now, eyes on the ceiling.

> "My old man used to say there was somethin’ wrong with me. ‘You ain’t right in the head, Petey,’ he’d say. ‘All that gore bullshit. That horror crap. What kinda kid jerks off to zombie movies?’"

"Jesus."

"Yeah. Tell me about it. My brothers weren’t much better. I got tied to a fuckin’ chair once for drawin’ a flayed body in my sketchbook. Real funny, right?"

His voice cracks, just slightly, but he covers it with a laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes.

> "So, yeah. I don’t get turned on by rom-coms and pillow talk. I get off to the shit you can’t say out loud. Ain’t never had a girl stay, ‘cause they see it in my face. That look. That thing that says, ‘This guy’s thinkin’ somethin’ fucked up.’ And they’re right. I am. I’m always thinkin’ about it."

> "You ever try to fix that?"

"Nah. What’s the fuckin’ point? I wasn’t built for the good stuff."

He finally looks at you—really looks—and his mouth goes tight.

> "You were the only one who was ever nice to me, y’know that? And I spent the whole damn time tellin’ myself you were just another tease. Some stuck-up broad pretendin’ to be into horror ‘cause she liked the attention."

> "Is that really what you thought?"

"Nah. I thought you were different. Which scared the shit outta me. So I told myself you weren’t."

He rubs at his face like he’s tryin’ to scrape his own skin off.

> "I can’t talk to people right. All I know is how to push, and joke, and fuck, and bail. But I keep thinkin’ about you. Keep dreamin’ about you. And I don’t know if it’s love or if I’m just obsessed with the one girl who didn’t run away screamin’. Maybe both."

> "Pete..."

"Nah, don’t gimme that look. That pity look. I’ll say somethin’ worse if you do."

He stands up fast like the floor’s on fire, starts pacing.

> "You don’t get it. I’m not some bad boy you fix with a bath and a hug. I’m not a ‘healing project.’ I’m the kinda guy who’ll fuck you, say somethin’ cruel, and then sit in the car after pretendin’ he didn’t feel a fuckin’ thing. That’s me. That’s all I got."

> "I didn’t ask you to change, Pete."

"Yeah? Well I ain’t gonna. I can’t. This is it. This is what you get."

Then, quieter:

> "But if I could be different—for anyone—it woulda been you."

He looks like he might cry. Instead, he laughs.

> "You remember that zombie movie marathon we did junior year? You fell asleep on my shoulder. I didn’t move for hours. Back hurt like hell. Best night of my life. Pathetic, huh?"

You shake your head. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter.

> "Anyway." He grabs the six-pack, leaves one can on the table. "This one’s for you. ‘Cause you saw me once. Even if you ain’t lookin’ no more."

And just like that, he’s gone.

---

[chelseypprimrose]

Jilted Ex-Lover / Negan x Reader / fiancésdad!Negan

Warnings ⚠️: unprotected sex, elements of rough sex, use of petnames, oral (fem receiving) not proof read yet.

Summary: After your fiancé leaves you high and dry on your wedding day, his dad comforts you in a way you didn’t ever expect.

A/N: I got burnt out to fuck writing this lol, writers block was strong on this one, hope you enjoy it all the same though, thank u for all the love on my other stories 🤍🫶🏼

“How the fuck could he do this to me?” You exclaimed, stomping down the hallway of the old manor house, the rooms still decorated in the victorian inspired decor you’d picked out months ago. Making it back to your bridal suite, you threw the doors open, reaching under your dress to get your uncomfortable heels off your feet, throwing them into the corner without a care. Your bridesmaids followed behind you, a couple on their phones trying to get in contact with your fiancé, or should you say ex-fiancé. You’d noticed he’d been getting jittery the closer the date got, not caring when you’d come to him for his opinions on the food menu or the DJ set list, him just humming along, his eyes still glued to his phone. You’d tried to push it to the back of your mind, chalking it up to just be cold feet, something that was common but when the day eventually arrived, it would all be fine. How foolish that was, on what was meant to be the happiest day of your life, the day you are meant to promise yourselves to one another, you’d been embarrassed in front of not only your friends and family, his as well. You kept replaying the moment over and over again in your head, the gasps of the wedding audience, hands going over their mouths in shock, the tears that entered your eyes and started to fall down your cheeks. He’d left you there at the alter, stuttering when it came to the all important question, running down the stairs, head held down as he rushed out of the door.

“So, what do you want to do Y/N? Everyone’s traveled here, everything is set downstairs.” One of the bridesmaids asked you, looking around at the others with a nervous look on her face, almost not wanting to ask you the question. You sighed, taking a hold of the crystal decanter that was on the dressing room table, using the ice tongs to place two cubes of ice in a matching whiskey glass, pouring a stiff drink. “You know what?” You laughed, taking the drink in one go. “Fuck him, there’s no chance I spent all this fucking money for everything to be cancelled. Tell everyone to head to the reception. We are continuing like this never happened.” Your bridesmaids started to text away on their phones, one looking up for a brief moment. “What about his family? Are they invited?” You looked towards her, a small smile on your face. “Of cause, I’m going to get some questions answered.”

You’d still changed into your reception dress, a long flowing silk white strapless number, you’d still had your first dance, just with your own father instead of your husband, a few fallen tears as you did, quickly wiped away. You’d had people coming up to you from both sides, what should have been congratulations became apologies and sympathies. You hadn’t heard from him since he ran away, the thought of somehow this being a dream now fully out of the picture. The beat of the cheesy classic wedding songs in the background, as you asked the bartender for another drink, passing your empty glass to them. Your nails tapped against the bar, looking around at everyone still enjoying themselves and dancing near the stage where the DJ was positioned. The bartender returned with your glass now full, a nod of appreciation as you took it.

“Drowning your sorrows, sweetheart? Can’t say I blame you.” You turned to look at where the voice came from, a small look of disapproval sat on your features. “Well, you have your own demon spawn to blame for that one, Mr Smith.” He let out a hearty chuckle, leaning on the bar top. You knew you shouldn’t be directing your anger at Negan, your fiancés father but you couldn’t help your feelings. You’d been racking your brain all day of how someone could think it was okay to completely abandon what was meant to be their life partner on the day of their wedding, knowing how embarrassing and disrespectful it was. “You really did a brilliant job of raising him, the fact he thinks that it’s morally better to absolutely embarrass me in front of everyone, he could have cancelled this before now, saved me the heartbreak.” You concluded, taking a sip of the wine from the glass. Negan looked at you with a guilty look on his face, his hand rubbing his face. “I’m so sorry doll, he never came to me with any of this, if I’d known he was going to do this, I would have shut that shit down, made sure he went about the right way to do it. That’s not the way I fucking raised him. It was a cowardly move.” You let out a sigh, you could tell from the way Negan was looking at you he was being completely truthful, you’d always got along, there would be no reason he wouldn’t have come to you with this, even if it meant going behind his sons back. “I know. Sorry, I just have a bit of resentment towards anyone associated to him at the moment, it isn’t your fault. Maybe just hit him in the face a couple times when you eventually find him.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood for the moment before you cried again. He laughed at this, his arm leaving the bar to wrap around your waist in a gentle embrace. “Don’t worry doll, he’ll be getting an earful from me when I see him. I don’t like seeing your pretty face upset, especially not over some boy.” He pulled you close, his hand resting in place, you felt safe in Negan’s arms, a weird sensation coming over you, arousal? It was no secret that Negan was a good looking guy, anyone with a set of eyes could see how handsome he was, he had all the charm in the world to match as well. So suave, he held himself really well, almost a people person but wouldn’t take any shit from anyone. To be honest, there had always been some kind of silent attraction between the two of you, you’d noticed when his eyes had lingered on you for a little longer than was deemed socially appropriate, how he always seemed more relaxed in your company, when he’d bring you breakfast some mornings when he knew his son was away on business trips. He’d taken good care of you and welcomed you with open arms into the family, which caused the betrayal to sting more, you weren’t just losing a potential husband, you were losing a extended family relationship as well.

“Well if you would excuse me, I have to get back to people coming up to me and expressing their condolences, you’d think it was a funeral, not a wedding.” You slightly laughed, taking one last look in his eyes as you bid him farewell.

A couple hours later, after everyone had left, you found yourself in your suite, having taken your hair down from the intricate up do, having to weave out the small flowers that had been placed in the style and what felt like ten thousand bobby pins. Grabbing a quick shower, you’d put on a silk set with a short robe, what was meant to be your wedding night lingerie, another thing you’d spent a ton of money on that you didn’t want going to waste. You’d barely checked your phone through the night, looking at it now you hadn’t had any calls or texts from your estranged ex, concluding that was probably a good thing, not wanting to get upset thinking about it again. A loud knock at your door made you jump, throwing the soft duvet off your body as you made moves towards the door, a look of surprise at the person. “Hey doll, I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight, so…” Negan trailed off, raising the bottle of champagne and two flutes in his large hand. “Champagne? Aren’t you meant to drink that when you’re celebrating?” You questioned, cocking one hip to the side sarcastically with your eyebrow raised. “Well, depending on how you look at the situation, you could be celebrating the fact you don’t have to deal with a silly little boy anymore who can’t appreciate a good women in front of him?” You laughed, taking the bottle out of his hand, moving away from the door so he could enter the room. “Well, when you put it like that.” Negan shut the door behind you, taking a seat on the bed as he watched you pop open the bottle, pouring two glasses and handing him one. “To new beginnings?” You cheers with him, the glasses clinking together. “To new beginnings, doll. So what the plan from here? Weren’t you meant to be going on a honeymoon?” You huffed, you’d completely forgotten about your impending honeymoon, two weeks on your own sounded morbid. “I haven’t even thought about it, I forgot. Do you think it would be pathetic to go by myself? Maybe I can explain the situation and get refunded, I’ll just have to take the hit if not.” Negan smiled as he shook his head. “Nah, it’s not pathetic. Hell, you paid for the trip, you deserve the time away.” You nodded, taking a small sip of the champagne. “Yeah I guess, just don’t know how I feel about a solo trip, it will cause me to overthink everything and get upset.” You looked down at the ground, taking small steps until you were sat across from Negan on the bed.

“Did I do something wrong? I mean, am I really that insufferable that someone felt the need to run away from me? Is the idea of marrying me that bad?” You asked, the thoughts you’d tried to push down all day coming back to the surface, causing you to get emotional the more you fixated on it. “No doll, don’t think that shit. He royally screwed up on this one, there is absolutely no excuse to do what he did to someone, especially someone like you.” He moved to wrap his arms around you again, you leaning your head into his shoulder, your hand placed on his chest, you could feel his faint heartbeat on the surface. You sat for a short time, neither of you moving from the position you were in, savouring the moment. You looked up at Negan, those deep brown eyes of his almost staring into your soul. He glanced down at you as well, this unspeakable tension surrounding you both, he leant forward and began to kiss you, your eyes wide with shock. “Wha-what are you doing? Please don’t tell me this is some sort of pity kiss.” You asked, pulling slightly away from Negan as his hand began to the side of your face, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Of cause not, let me help you forget about that fucker. Doesn’t know a good women even though it’s staring him in the face. Let me make you feel good, doll.” You pulled him towards you, now capturing him in a feverish kiss, your hands exploring his neck, holding him tightly. “God please, help me forget.”

You moved to straddle Negan feeling him through the thin lingerie you had on as he met your kisses with just as much confidence as you. His tongue making quick work of turning your insides to jelly, moving to whip your robe off your body, making quick work of unclipping your bra as well. You took no notice of where the items of clothing landed, though you had a feeling you would regret that later. Your breasts now free, Negan took the liberty of exploring you, delighting in the arch of your back as he worked a nipple between his teeth. One hand was on your back, the other trying to work on getting your panties down. You stood for a moment, shedding the flimsy material off your body, Negan taking a moment to admire your curves, as you straddled him again; hot skin against hot skin. The sensation overwhelmed you, aching to have him inside you. “Fuck, you are perfect doll. So beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips, his hands now roaming your body.

He laid you down on the bed, your legs spreading to make room for him. He kissed your neck, gently nipping it as he worked his way down, more attention on your breasts. You knew what was coming but that still didn't prepare you for the sensation that came once his mouth made contact with your pussy. Your hips bucked, Negan using one hand to steady you. You still couldn’t believe you were actually going to have sex with your fiancés father, the ultimate fuck you. “Uh, Negan! Fuck, your mouth feels so good!”

He slowly slid two fingers inside of you, delighting in how slick and tight you were. He worked his fingers in and out, building a rhythm while still licking at your clit, causing you to moan out, your hands gripping the sheet below you. Before you knew it, you could feel the orgasm building inside of you, this is what you had been craving. Your fiancé could never give you pleasure like you were currently experiencing, never even going down on you really, always just chasing his own high. You’d missed the attention of a man who knew what he was doing and Negan definitely knew what he was doing. You thrust your hips forward, wanting to get as close to Negan as possible. He sped up his rhythm, his tongue continually flicking against you. You was close, so close. Your other hand was grabbing at his shoulder, leaving red marks underneath his shirt, where your nails dug in slightly.

“Fuck doll, you taste divine, so wet for me.” He whispered out, attaching his mouth back to you after. "I'm so close," you choked out, surprised at the fact that you could talk at all. "I'm going to come, Negan! Fuck! Don’t stop!” You moaned, gripping the sheet even tighter as your orgasm washed over your body. The muscles in your body contracted as you thrust toward him again. Negan continued to work your clit through your orgasm, sporadic moans leaving your lips as the wave of pleasure that rolled over you was unbelievable. You couldn't control anything, the waves subsided as you tried to relax your body. You loosened the grip that you had on his shoulder as he looked up at you, a confident grin on his face.

“You okay baby?” He asked softly, already knowing your answer. “Never better, I need you.” His hand caressed your breast again and down your body. He slid a finger into you, finding you to be wet and ready for him. Your hands explored his body again, practically ripping his suit down, exposing his shaft to you, it standing erect at attention. You ran your hand around the length of it, pleased to hear him moan as you did so. You pumped Negan’s cock a few more times, the pre cum oozing out of the top, causing your hand to become slick. You were nervous about Negan’s size, you’d never seen a more impressive cock. The way he stood over you as well, so manly and dominating. “You ready doll? You look so beautiful, so needy for me.” You could only nod, as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You moved to the top of the bed, propping yourself up on the soft pillows positioned there. You spread your legs a little wider as Negan slowly eased himself into you. “Oh fuck, you feel good.” You moaned as his entire length entered you.

He grabbed your legs, putting them up over his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper. His hands gripped your thighs as he thrust himself into you at a faster, harder pace, almost taking your breath away. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, doll. Fits me perfectly.” he growled, reaching up and began tweaking one of your nipples. The sensation of Negan playing with your nipples, and fucking you relentlessly was almost more than you could take. You’d never been pleasured like this before, your other sexcapades being boring and too slow paced for you. You ran your nails down his still covered chest, the black blazer now disregarded by Negan, the crisp white shirt still on his frame, he looked so sexy in it. The thought that he just had to have you, he wasn’t even concerned about undressing made you feel so desirable. He leaned down and kissed you again, biting your lower lip in the process.

"Fuck me harder, please!” You moaned out, his lips now going to work on your neck, quickly finding your sensitive spots. Negan groaned appreciatively, speeding his rhythm up to meet your sordid demands. “Hang on, doll. I need to see that pretty ass of yours.” He slid himself out of your pussy and you whimpered at the loss of fullness you were feeling. He rolled you over, pulling your torso up so that your ass was in the air. He ran his hands over your ass, giving a slap to the supple skin, sliding himself back into your pussy. “Oh fuck yes, Negan!” You said happily, delighting in the new sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots deep inside you.

He rested his hands on your hips, thrusting hard into your pussy. He ran a hand over your ass again, raised it, and gave another hard slap. “Fuck! Do it again.” You begged, the dirty movements only increasing your pleasure. He raised his hand and smacked you again, his hand then running through your hair and pulling tightly on it, angling your head back. “Does that feel good, doll?” he asked. "Do you like that? Being such a good girl for me.” He praised you, his deep tone causing your body to light on fire. “Oh yeah, fuck yeah.” You managed to whimper out, the sound of your skin slapping against him as you met his thrusts. “You want me to do it again? Your ass is going to be red raw when I’m finished with you doll.” Negan whispered in your ear, continuing to thrust hard into your pussy. “Yes, please. Oh please!” You felt desperate, the pain mixed with pleasure was just too much for you to handle. “Beg for it, doll. Beg me.” he said, pulling your hair harder. “Oh fuck, please smack me again! Negan, you feel so fucking good inside me!” Negan kept slamming himself into you as he smacked your ass again.

"Fuck doll, I’m getting close, this pussy is heavenly.” he said a few minutes later, pumping your pussy hard. "Where’d you want me?”

"On my chest, all over me, please?” You requested, Negan thrusting faster as he chased his release. “You are a dirty fucking girl, you know that doll?” He pulled out of you, positioning yourself to the ground quickly as he leant just above you on his knees.

"Come on me baby, please! I need it.” you said, pushing your breasts up towards him with your inner arms, your hands grabbing his shaft, finishing him off. “Fuck yes, doll! You look amazing like that, so needy for my cum.” he choked out just before his climax hit him. Negan’s load came pulsating out, all over your chest, heavy breaths escaping both of you. You began to swipe his release on off your chest, sucking the salty taste off your fingers, his eyes locked on to the dirty sight in front of him, his face lighting up. He helped you up, back onto the bed, giving you another kiss as he did. “You want me to stay doll?” he asked.

You debated internally for a few moments. You knew that he should probably go, the thought of someone catching you in bed with your ex fiancés father, would cause many questions that you wanted to avoid, but when he looked at you with those eyes of his, you caved. How could you kick out the man who had just shattered your world in the space of a hour? “You can stay, I want a repeat performance in the morning.” You chuckled, wrapping yourselves within the sheets of the bed. “Really doll, he’s a fucking fool. His loss, my fucking gain.” He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, leaving small kisses on your forehead.

[doumadono]

(Since I am a bitch 😈😈😈)

I have a request!

NSFW alphabet with our "beloved" Enji Todoroki!!!!!! 😏🔥

MASTERLIST

A - aftercare If you're just a casual fling or someone he met randomly at a bar, the chances of him sticking around are quite slim. However, if he's genuinely invested in the relationship, there will come a point where he reveals his caring side. Seeing you upset because of his initial emotional distance triggers a sense of guilt within him, and he eventually relents, saying, "Alright, let's cuddle."

B - body part He loves your ass, tempted to give it a playful pat or some appreciative glances, all while trying to not make the impression that he's a pervert

C - cum Enji usually pulls out and cums on your ass, or just jacks off to it but sometimes he'll grab your throat and push you on your knees to cum on your face. "Yeah, babe, take it, take it! See how fucking beautiful you look with my cum all over your face?"

D - dirty secret Endeavor's hidden desire is for you to pleasure yourself with toys while he watches, jacking off

E - experience He has a wealth of experience, and I mean a substantial amount of it. This guy truly knows what he's doing

F - favorite position His favourite position is doggy style, he feels so powerful and in control while you're on all fours, whimpering pathetically for him. He loves taking you from behind and pulling on your hair, making you scream his name. "You like it when I fuck you into submission like this? I bet you do, slut."

G - goofy He's extremely serious and doesn't welcome humor in the bedroom

H - hair Enji doesn't bother to shave but he's naturally well-tamed with body hair

I - intimacy The most intimate act for him is to press your foreheads together as he thrusts inside you at merciless pace

J - jack off In rare occasions, he might indulge in self-pleasure, but this only occurs when you haven't been together for a few weeks or so

K - kinks Breeding kink - he's definitely into feral/animalistic sex since he's so aggressive

Power play - that goes without saying

Master/slave play - Todoroki finds it very arousing when you're serving him sexually and he can order you around. "Suck my cock like a good little servant and you'll get to cum."

L - location Bed or shower - Endeavor strongly dislikes dealing with messes in locations where it's not convenient to clean up the filth easily

M - motivation Intentionally arousing him, only to appear disinterested afterward. He'll absolutely destroy you and abuse all of your holes afterward, but it's worth it. "You fucking tease, I should just pound you until your fucking cunt is sore."

N - no Anything that places him in a submissive position is something he's not particularly fond of - Endeavor's an aggressive top, and even trying to bottom would hurt his ego

O - oral He definitely prefers to receive it - he gives only if he feels like it

P - pace Fast and rough. That's it!

Q - quickie He’s down for quickies. Enji prefers proper sex, but he won’t say no to a nice quickie

R - risks He won’t take risks, ever. He wouldn't even consider anything that could potentially harm either of you. His past experiences have made him exceedingly cautious when it comes to taking risks of any kind

S - stamina He can go for a few rounds at the most, meaning you're having the most earth shattering orgasms of your life coming you way

T - toys He thinks you don’t need a vibrator when you have him, and he’s goddamn right!

U - unfair He likes to tease way too much, and he will do it at the worst possible moments. Sometimes you’ll be having dinner with some of the other heroes, and he’ll start to finger you under the table, just like that 🤷

V - volume Endeavor can get pretty loud, he doesn’t care about noise complaints. He does a lot of growling, groaning and dirty talk

W - wildcard He will come up with the most pathetic reasons to bend you over his knee and punish you

X - x-ray He's very thick, very long and very veiny. 8-9 inches when fully hard

Y - yearning His sex drive is undeniably high. He prefers to engage in sexual activity at least every other day. Occasionally, he can't contain himself and pins you against the nearest surface, having his way with you

Z - zzz It takes him a little while to fall asleep, so normally you’ll be the first to be asleep

[whore4brielle]

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY. (Caitvi

Caitlyn was so dense. Maybe it was the small thought. The same thought that she had when she moved into the small residence. She tried to tell herself that vi was just super kind with small gestures that showed her kindness towards the blue haired female. How Vi often always invited Caitlyn into her house. Caitlyn had really grown fond of it. Not only did Vi invite Caitlyn into her apartment. They usually went out to eat together. Planned small hangouts. Went to the bar together.

It was so not normal.

After frequently doing everything together. Caitlyn really had to remind herself that Vi was just a neighbor. Nothing more, nothing less. But even if Vi wasn’t her neighbor. This would all still be okay. Considering Caitlyn was very much single and Vi didn’t have a girlfriend.

So Caitlyn thought.

No. Caitlyn had heard it.

She heard Vi tell her before during a nice dinner at one of Caitlyn’s favorite restaurants in piltover. She indeed did not have a girlfriend. It gave Caitlyn a small ounce of hope. If she did have a crush on Vi. Which by now it was obvious. That she had a chance. And by the way Vi showered her with these gestures. She thought Vi might’ve had a small crush on her to. Or just something that showed Caitlyn that her and Vi could be in a potential romantic relationship.

So why was this happening

J • E • A • L • O • U • S • Y

Caitlyn had just got back from a shift at her new workplace. Caitlyn’s whole entire week had been full of stress so she didn’t have much time for herself including time with Vi. She made sure to apologize to Vi when she could. Vi just being the type of person she was only told Caitlyn that she understood. Caitlyn also got incite on Vi’s life through her phone calls. Like how Vi had been going to the gym more often than usual.

Caitlyn left her shoes at the entrance of her apartment. Laying down on the soft covers of her bed. She got as comfortable as possible. Opening her phone and wondering if she should message the redhead instead. That was before she heard the soft sound on the other side of the thin wall.

Caitlyn paused for a brief moment. The sound increasingly heightened. She could only hear one person’s breathing. But her hands still trembled for some reason. And she felt a familiar knot grow in her throat.

Was she really about to cry? No way.

Cait’s overthinking started to eat her alive has she tried to ignore the questionable reality of the situation. It was until Caitlyn heard her own name behind the wall. Followed by another small pant. Caitlyn didn’t expect it. A small gasp formed on her mouth.

Cait..? Please?

It sounded more like a question to Caitlyn. But Caitlyn realized it was who she wanted it to be. Vi. Why would Vi say Caitlyn’s name while doing the act?

A even fainter moan was enough to make Caitlyn sit up. Propping herself on the headboard of her bed. Caitlyn took her blue hair out of the ponytail holder. Trying to ignore the heat radiating between her own legs. It all felt wrong. Caitlyn didn’t know whether Vi was masturbating solo or with another girl who happened to have the same name as Caitlyn. But the moans coming from the other apartment. Sounded heavenly. Caitlyn just couldn’t resist the urge not to play with herself.

The idea of Vi being with someone else kind of made Cait horny to. Not that it didn’t make her overwhelmingly jealous. Jealousy replaced by curiosity. Wanting to know how Vi would handle another female. Caitlyn truly wanted to watch it all unfold.

Fuck

Caitlyn snugged a hand into her leggings. Finding the hem of her underwear before placing her hand inside. The moans on the other side of the thin wall growing louder. And now Caitlyn was sure it was only 1. She noticed the small rasp in Vi’s moans. The same rasp in Vi’s voice. Caitlyn was already on edge but the confirmation was the only thing she needed for her to start rubbing her clit.

(The same idea has my last post just with a small plot twist ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི)

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

[mistypsych]

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 8

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after not writing anything at all. Please keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty at times. Comments and thoughts are well appreciated. Don’t hesitate to ask questions, state your thoughts for me to post up and have me add you to the tag list!

Sorry it took me a while to post this chapter. It isn’t too long but I didn’t want to leave you all hanging without anything. I had a lot of things to handle - family visit threw the holidays as well as I met someone and got into a relationship - first time since a couple years. Work has also been busy so I hope you guys will forgive my absence! I will try and post more frequently now! Please comment. Your words always are motivating!

The dead toned beep of the ended phone call rang in your ears mercilessly. Taking a couple seconds to compose yourself after Yoongis brutal truth, you looked at the mirror and took in a deep, sharp breath. Shaking your head, you grabbed at the bridge of your nose. This was all getting chaotic and you did not like that fact at all.

You’ve always lead a quite composed life. Yes your work was complicated and very intense at times but outside of that you lead a peaceful life up until now. Up until you got dragged into this fucking mess by your best friend. Up until you found out your fiancé was a liar and cheater. Up until you screwed Agust-D, or should you say - it was more like he screwed you.

Walking into the hot shower you tried to get rid of all those invasive thoughts. Your brain kept playing scenes of the black eyed gangsters lips attacking all of your skin, all of those sensitive parts, all the places that mattered. Your hands wiped down your face as if trying to toss off all the images together with the water droplets. This was not going to be an easy task. Sleeping with the long haired brunette just made your already complicated situation even more messed up.

Once you were wiping your body off with the soft towel you let out yet again another frustrated sigh. Knowing you had to get out of the bathroom and face Hoseok angered you. All you wanted to do was punch him in the face and break his perfect little nose. The vision of having to keep this relationship going for the greater good and to put his ass behind bars wasn’t in any way ideal for you. But it had to be done. You knew in the long run this was they only thing that would make up for all the heartache he put you threw.

You let your still wet hair drop on your shoulders. Wrapping yourself up in a comfortable bathrobe you walked out hesitantly. The smell of freshly made breakfast, deliciously tickled your nostrils. Well at least he was good for some things - you muttered soundlessly to yourself.

Stepping in the kitchen you saw the cheater himself hovering over some pans, while humming some tune. You used to love this view, you used to watch him quietly with a big smile on your face. These gestured used to matter. Now all they did was poke a deep hole in your heart. You could not help but feel as if dead inside towards the one you thought you’d end up spending your life with.

As if on queue Hoseok turned to you with a plated meal and a sweet smile on his face.

“Sit love” he said with a hum while placing the dish on the table. You felt you stomach clench while you braved yourself to put on the best fake loving face you could. “Thanks… hun…” you said a bit hesitantly, what he picked up right away.

Sighing loudly he looked at you with sad eyes and said “Hey… I know lately it has been rough… and I work a lot… and I don’t give you the attention you deserve. But that will change soon babe, I promise…” he whispered while leaning down to kiss your temple.

It took all of your impulse control not to push away from him. Forcing yourself to take the kiss you said quietly “Yea… it has been rough…”. After your words fell, he gave you a worried look. Knowing you well he decided not to continue this topic. Instead he gave you another peck and told you to eat up while he makes coffee.

Your eyes turned to the back of his head as he brewed the caffeinated liquid. You wished you could burn a hole in his skull, purely by your gaze. Giving up on that ridiculous thought, you focused on your food. You had to eat. You had work this afternoon. You didn’t want to feel weak and tired. Work was about the only thing that still made sense in your life. All the rest seemed to be going down in flames.

Once your fiancé put a cup in front of you, you gladly grabbed at it. Keeping yourself occupied and your mouth full was the best option to avoid senseless talk. You were only willing to answer what you had planned for the day. You really didn’t want to force the conversation. Thankfully Hobi seemed to think all the tension was coming from his lack of time and his hectic work schedule. Who were you to correct him? Even if you wanted you couldn’t. You had a deal with Jimin. The vision of the cheating bastard in front of you, being set behind bars was the only thing that kept you sane.

When you finished up your meal, you decided to do the dishes. You didn’t want to seem too upset. It was a usual with the two of you. When one cooked the other took care of the dishes. The brainless action made you zone out. The bubbles on your hand felt oddly relaxing. As you were about to calm down from all the anger your felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist.

You took in a sharp breath and get tense right away. It was something you could not control. It was just a natural reaction of your body to the touch of someone who you saw as a traitor. “Are you that displeased with me?” he asked, his lips almost touching your ear. Anxiety was attacking your nerve system mercilessly. You had to swallow the big ball that formed in your throat before you spoke “It just had been very awkward between us… that’s all…”.

Shaking his head slightly he kept on hugging you “I know baby… and I wanna fix it… you know what they say… good sex can cure many arguments…” hearing those words you felt your stomach flip. The last thing you were feeling up to was going to bed with this asshole. But did you have much choice? This was your thing. You guys used to use the act of desire take over you when in disputes. You didn’t want to raise red flags and have him suspicious of your behavior. There was so much at stake.

An idea popped in your head. You could use the fact he clearly wanted to sway you, please you. This was your way to get threw this. Turning around slowly you gave him a dark smile. Your brain automatically switching to imagine someone else was standing in front of you. “Is that so? You want to fix the situation?” you asked with a deeper voice and he nodded in agreement.

“Then get on your knees and please me. Since you didn’t have time to give me attention lately… today will be all about me…” you voice was sultry and tainted with a darkness you never let out yet. Hoseok was clearly taken aback for a second, completely not expecting such a thing from you. But you were right, he did want to sway your mood. So he smiled gently while dropping down slowly to his knees.

His long fingers grabbed at your shorts and pulled them down. You closed your eyes imagining it was those digits covered in rings doing this to you. At this moment you were great full for having a good imagination. You needed it to survive this, to take pleasure from it.

When you felt the hot breath hit your core, you bit down on your lip, visioning it was the dark haired mobster in front of you. The image of Agust-D on his knees made you soaked in seconds. “God you’re getting wet…” Jung gasped, his voice distracting you a bit, so you shushed him with a “Get to it then…”.

Once you felt his tongue on your clit you almost jumped. The next movements and sucking making you almost moan Yoongis name. He was right. You would be thinking of him… fuck you were already and this was the only thing making you enjoy the moment. It didn’t take you long to jump over the edge. Biting down on your tongue you made sure to not scream the name of another.

Luckily for you, your fiancé was so out of it all and happy with himself, he believed everything between you was ok for now. The fact he had to head out to work soon, was just the cherry on top of the cake. You on the other hand had time to get ready for the afternoon and think about how Yoongi read right threw you. His words from your last phone call echoed in your brain. Shaking your head you mumbled to yourself - Stop. This needs to stop. I am just gonna use what happened to imagine things, to survive around Hoseok as long as I need to.

The little pep talk was supposed to set you straight. You decided you would never give into temptation again. You’d never jump into the arms of a gangster. You couldn’t. He was bad news. Or maybe bad news was him. It was hard to decided which of the two was correct. But the fact was - this man was danger and it was best to stir clear of him. So that is what you planned on doing.

Work was going well for you even tho you didn’t get to have the shift with your friend. But maybe that was better. That way you could focus on the job and not risk falling into discussing the whole gang situation. Your phone was silent as well. No messages from you soon to be ex. No one to bother your. No one to disturb your flow.

You were telling lucky to have a couple of light surgeries scheduled. They were just basic procedures. You did not need to think too much about what you were doing. You were great full that you enjoyed your job. That it was left undisturbed. That it could be your anchor to sanity. You could lose yourself in it. Forget about all the other chaos. Just be present in the moment. Just focus on your hand work, on what needed to be done. Nothing else mattered then and there.

The wrecked mood from the morning switched to a content and relaxed on. The evening was nice. You decided you’d take a walk home. You lived not too far away. Some exercise would do you well. Taking out your phone you thought for a moment and texted Jungkook. You wanted to check if maybe he was out drinking in some of the bars close by. You’d gladly join him then.

While walking and awaiting and answer from your coworker, your turned into one of the allies to take a shortcut. It was still not that late and usually the are was safe. All seemed to be the same this time. That was until a black SUV appeared at the other end. Stopping in your tracks you felt the flight or fight mode sweep over your body.

Clenching your hands on the purse strap you were thinking on what to do. Once the doors of the car opened, you were ready to run. But suddenly the well known gravely voice hit the air.

“Didn’t your parents teach you allies tend to be dangerous?” he chuckled a bit at his own words clearly enjoying he gave you a scare.

Your feet became heavy. It was as if the got cemented to the ground. A shiver ran over your spine. Standing there you stared as the brunet slowly made his way to you. The heels of his elegant shoes clicking over the ground. The sound bounced off the bricked walls. It all seemed just like in the movies. The hunter walking over to his helpless prey.

As he came close he tossed the end of his cigaret to the grown and blew out the last smoke your way. You felt your knees becoming weak. This guys was something else. Everything about him was screaming danger, but somehow you couldn’t move, you couldn’t run, you just stood there, your eyes glued to him.

“I told you we’d meet again Y/N… and you owe me a morning…” clearing your throat you finally spoke “Do I? I don’t recall anything about spending the mornings with you in our agreement…” the words made him leans his head back and laugh. “What a mouth you have…” he spat out and grabbed your face with his hand. Pushing down on your cheeks. His black eyes piercing right threw your soul. “I have better use for it then starting up discussions…” his voice was low and coated with something you could not put your finger on. Was it desire?

The next thing you knew, you were pinned to the cold wall, his face inches from yours. As you were about to speak, he silenced you with his lips.

tags: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16 @missusally-blog @honsoolgloss @nochuel @kaitieskidmore1 @starrlo0ver @geek-lara-nerd @jwnghyuns @xyahrinx @acquiescence804 @prettytaesworld @i-have-three-feelings @citypop-princess

[literary-mafioso]

directors cut u KNOW im askin abt some weird sin baybee! tell me all abt it

What an insane undertaking that was! I remember when the premise occurred to me, I was walking down Michigan Avenue back in September of 2022 and it just fell out of the sky: "What if Vincent Hanna and Neil McCauley actually met each other right here in Chicago instead of passing each other like ships in the night? And what if Vincent thought Neil was an undercover cop, and Neil thought Vincent was a fellow thief?" It's the closest I've ever come to writing something approaching a film script, and looking back over it the amount of plot engineering and dialogue involved was bananas. It is still at its core a romance, but it required me to dip my toes in other forms of genre writing that were totally foreign to me until I committed to seeing it through. I still have no idea how I managed!

Writing a brand-new diner scene from scratch was by far the most intimidating thing I've ever done in the fandom. It's such a perfect scene the way Mann has it in the original, so how the hell was I gonna replicate that chemistry under such radically different circumstances? I took a purely symbolic tack with respect to their domestic failures (hence the dollhouse story), and since Vincent was not surveilling/pursuing Neil on the job what was a tense pseudo-interrogation became a game of omission between the two of them. That scene at Lake Michigan with the sun rising was meant to mirror/invert the one where Neil returns home at twilight and sets his gun on the table, because I can't write a Mann fic and not insert a large body of water for the protagonist(s) to contemplate.

But my favorite chapter is actually the one where they reunite at the bar, because there are three levels of conversation happening simultaneously: the one Neil thinks he is having with Vincent, the one Vincent pretends to be having with Neil, and the one Vincent is actually having with Neil (known only to himself). Every line has multiple layers of meaning, because at that moment Vincent has figured out who and what Neil actually is, and Neil still thinks he's dealing with one of his own. Vincent goes from flirting to speaking in grim jokes and double-entendres, hinting at his fear that Neil will go ballistic on him once he realizes that Vincent is actually a cop:

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to say ‘thank you’ to that.” “Oh. Please. Don’t thank me. But it is a compliment.” “That’s right. I forgot. Yours are the kind should come with a manual.” “Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea.” “That’s new.” “I just get the feeling you’re not the kind of guy who’s real comfortable with ambiguities, you know? Uncertainty. Spontaneity. Shit gets weird, life throws you curve balls, you walk across the field, beat the umpire to death with the bat.”

But the best part of "Some Weird Sin" for me as a writer and Heat obsessive was the excuse it gave me to play around with Nate as a supporting character. I will now look for any excuse to shoehorn him into a fic. He's the Mr. Deadpan Straight Man to Neil's infatuated romantic/gangster entrepreneur, and the conversations they have were some of my favorites to write:

Neil stops reading. He knows the rest. “We could frame it,” he says, pointing to where an assortment of commissioned lithographs presides over rows of gleaming bottles, portraits of outlaw blues legends and romantic Hollywood renegades. “Put it up behind the bar.” “You’re a comedian now, too.” Nate’s expression is unchanged. “A Renaissance man.” “Tough crowd in here.”

I never knew I could have so much fun writing something so challenging. And because I can't resist putting myself through the wringer a second time, I am already halfway done with a two-part epilogue. Coming soon to an AO3 theater near you!

[tayla-babygirl-000]

I was barely xx, still rocking my schoolgirl uniform, when I got caught in the rush-hour crush on the late train home. The car was a fucking sauna, bodies packed so tight I had to yank my heavy backpack off my shoulder just to squeeze in. My perky little tits, barely contained by my thin white blouse, were smashed against the back of some chick in front of me. People pressed in on all sides, my ass brushing against someone behind me, my hips trapped by strangers. No room to move, no air to breathe—just heat and the faint musk of sweat and cologne😓

My short, pleated navy skirt barely covered my thighs, and I spread my legs wide to brace myself, my backpack wedged between my feet on the grimy floor. The cool air sneaking up my skirt was a goddamn blessing, teasing the damp lace of my panties and making my pussy twitch. I was already flushed, my skin prickling, when the train lurched forward—express line, thank fuck. Faster ride, faster escape from this sardine can. Or so I thought 😏

Then I felt it—a warm, rough hand grazing my ass cheek under my skirt. My breath hitched, heart slamming in my chest. I couldn’t turn, couldn’t see shit with bodies crammed so close, my head barely able to twist. I froze, pretending I didn’t notice, but my pussy had other ideas, tingling like a live wire. Another brush, firmer this time, fingers tracing the curve of my tight, round ass through the fabric. I clenched my cheeks, half panicked, half turned on, telling myself it was an accident. Yeah, right😈

The hand didn’t stop. It groped me now, bold and hungry, kneading my ass like it owned me. My nipples hardened, poking through my blouse, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning. Then—fuck—the hand slipped under my skirt, lifting it slow, fingers sliding between my cheeks, brushing the soaked lace of my panties. I gasped, the sound lost in the train’s rumble, as those fingers rubbed my dripping slit, teasing my swollen lips through the thin fabric. My pussy was throbbing, hot and needy, and I knew I should scream, push away, something—but I didn’t. I wanted it. Bad💦

The fingers tugged my panties aside, exposing my slick, shaved cunt to the cool air. I shivered as they stroked my folds, slow and deliberate, parting my juicy lips to graze my clit. Holy shit, the pleasure was electric, shooting through me like a drug. My hips rocked instinctively, grinding against the hand, my pussy so wet it was practically begging. I could feel the stranger’s thick fingers—definitely a guy, no doubt—sliding deeper, dipping into my tight, greedy hole. One finger pushed inside, stretching my virgin cunt, and I nearly came right then, my walls clenching like a vice😩

I was sweating now, my blouse sticking to my tits, my thighs trembling as I gripped the overhead bar for dear life. Another finger joined the first, fucking me slow and deep, curling to hit that sweet spot that made my knees buckle. My pussy was a sloppy mess, slick juices coating his hand, dripping down my thighs. I was humping his fingers now, lost in the filthy thrill of it—some random dude finger-banging me in a packed train, and I was loving it. My clit was rock-hard, pulsing under his thumb as he flicked it, and I had to clamp my lips shut to stop from screaming😵

The train swayed, and I felt his body press closer, his hard cock—fuck, it felt huge—grinding against my ass through his pants. The stakes hit me like a freight train: if anyone noticed, I was fucked. My reputation, my innocence—gone. But that only made me hornier, my cunt squeezing his fingers as they pounded me, faster now, stretching my tight hole until I was seeing stars. I came hard, my pussy spasming, gushing over his hand, my legs shaking so bad I nearly collapsed. My mouth went dry, my vision blurred, but those fingers didn’t stop—they kept fucking me, relentless, milking every tremor from my dripping snatch💥

I was still panting, my pussy sucking at his fingers, when he pulled out and smeared my juices across my clit, flicking it until I was on the edge again. Three fingers plunged back in—three, holy fuck—stretching my cunt so wide I thought I’d scream. My ass cheeks clenched, my tits bounced with every thrust, and I was gripping the bar so tight my knuckles were white. Another orgasm ripped through me, my pussy clamping down, squirting so hard I felt it soak my thighs, my panties, even my skirt. I was a trembling, juicy mess, and I didn’t give a fuck who saw😜

The train slowed, and I felt his hand slip out, stroking my swollen, cum-soaked pussy one last time, from my throbbing clit to my puckered asshole, like he was claiming every inch. My skirt fell back into place, and I stood there, panting, my panties drenched, thighs slick with my own cum. A final, soft grope of my ass, then nothing. The train stopped, and I grabbed my bag, legs wobbly as I pushed through the crowd to the door. Stepping onto the platform, I gulped fresh air, my pussy still pulsing, my body buzzing like I’d been electrocuted😳

I glanced back at the train window, but the crowd was too thick—no way to spot him. Was he tall? Built? Old? Young? That thick cock I’d felt—fuck, I wanted it inside me. My panties were ruined, my thighs sticky, and every step home was a reminder of how I’d let a stranger fuck me senseless without even seeing his face. I started taking the late train every day after that, skirt hiked a little higher, panties a little thinner, hoping to feel those fingers again. Never did, but fuck if I don’t touch myself every night, reliving that filthy, forbidden ride, my pussy dripping at the memory🚂💦

[spacecasette]

Bolt The Horse - 8.2K

Chapter II: I grip the gate

read it on ao3

˙⋆✮ a pity party for one ✮⋆˙

It's finally here! Thank you for your patience ♡ I've been away for quite some time, but life has a way of needing to be lived. I will be 100% honest with you, I am posting this chapter at mr. space's birthday party, so know that I love you all and want to post this for u!! Your comments/likes/reblogs on things I post warm my heart infinitely.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dani woke up to the smell of coffee for the first time in what felt like a century. Her fingers were clutched tight around the end of the pillow beneath her face— so tightly, they were nearly cramped into their nighttime shape. The whole of her face had started throbbing at some point, but it was difficult to tell if it’d been doing that the whole night or just since she’d sat up and the blood rushed to fill it. The single sheet was wedged in between her thighs, as if she’d been aiming to climb it in her sleep and had only just gotten started before waking up. So when she rounded the corner out of the bedroom, she was thinking about high school gymnasiums and fully expecting to see Bob standing there, taciturn and slightly disapproving. Rust’s face turned toward the sound of her gasp (which she thought she morphed into a cough well enough), and then went slack as if all the struts holding it into place had turned to dust. She couldn’t even say he was looking at her, at first, as much as he was looking at the doorknob just behind her like she was made of something gossamer-thin and interrupting his inspection of what needed fixing. He looked like he’d seen a ghost ten minutes ago, and was now questioning himself.

“Um, hi. What are you doin’ here?” She speaks first, timid in an unfamiliar environment. His eyes slide up to meet hers, cool and controlled, as he says, “Well, I live here. So I think the better question here is what are you doing here?”

Some old self-preservation instinct keeps her from stepping past the corner she haunts, looking around the room like a hole in the floor might open up and suck her down into nothingness to save her from the embarrassment of what she knows she eventually has to tell him. 

“Come sit down, you can tell me all about what happened to your face.” He motions with his chin toward the chair at the table across from him, raising his eyebrows expectantly when she doesn’t immediately obey. 

Dani takes a moment to acquiesce, and settles into the chair with one foot on the floor and the other planted on the seat so she can rest her chin on her knee. He slides a cup of coffee over— black, she assumed, since he couldn’t know how she took it— but when she took that first sip in service of avoiding that look on his face, she realized he’d put sugar in it, and she hadn’t even had to ask. That softened her up a bit, sure, but she was still suspicious enough to set it back down, and say softly, “I didn’t know you lived here. I thought maybe you had a trap door behind the bar you just kinda fell into when I couldn’t see you.” She laughs, and he doesn’t, but she knows he’s not pleased by the silence she’s met with, and the hard set of his mouth.

“You want to explain to me how you ended up in my house lookin’ rode hard and put away wet?” 

“Well Bob let me in, he said I could—” he interrupts her, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table and stare at her in a way that makes her squirm in her seat, adjusting her legs so that both of her feet are on the floor again.

“Why don’t you go back a little further, hmm? Tell me why you thought you should even walk out your front fuckin’ door when I told you to stay put?”

“Wait, am I in trouble right now?” The incredulity on her face is difficult for her to tamp down, and he latches onto it quick as a cat. “You bet your ass you’re in trouble, girly. You think I’m gonna let you go picking fights in my bar and sleeping in my bed just ‘cause, what? You couldn’t keep yourself from getting bored?” Her head starts shaking before he even finishes his sentence.

“It wasn’t like that, Rust, I just wanted to play cards and this stupid fuckin’ kid, Amos— I knew him in highschool— he was being gross and… It just kinda happened, and I’m sorry for not knowing you were living here, it’s not like I could tell, like you would ever tell me anyway.” She feels a sick combination of guilt and irritation bubbling up in her blood, and the condescending laugh Rust gives her makes it worse.

“I told you to stay home because it’s dangerous to be on your own out here, and you couldn’t stay put because you wanted to play cards? I sure as shit hope it was worth it, with your face all fucked up like that.” It stings when the blood rushes up to her face in embarrassment, and when his words settle in behind her sternum. She’d always thought herself capable of managing on her own, and the notion that Rust doesn’t think the same is a barb she certainly wasn’t ready for. She goes quiet then, keeps her hands folded in her lap as if this too-late complacency could save her now. Be good, be good, be good, be better, her heart supplies, be nothing. As if it could, as if she could feel like anything other than the sore spot in the middle of her own little world. 

“All I’m askin’ is that you don’t kick me out, Rust. I didn’t do nothin’ you wouldn’ta done if you were me, and besides, you said to stay where you could find me, right? I think that’s fair enough, don’t you?” Dani hates the way her voice sounds in this moment, cowed and meek, like asking for forgiveness she did nothing to warrant. 

“I knew where to find you, sure, but certainly not how I’d like to. Just what the fuck got into you, huh? You get bored up at your meemaw’s house all alone and you just.. go crazy? There ain’t enough up there to keep them hands busy? You just had to-”

“It’s my Mammy, and don’t you bring her into-”

“Oh, save me the sob story, honey, it makes so little a difference to me who’d be embarrassed by your misbehavin’,” his voice is derisive and cutting, sucking in a quick, sharp breath like he’s loading the chamber full, “I don’t give a goddamn why you did what you did. I told you to stay put and you just can’t seem to keep yourself from trouble, so until you can figure out how to act, you can march your happy little ass back up to that house and stay outta my bar until you do.”

Her breath goes out of her in a loose rattle, half furious and half heartsick. Her jaw grinds, trying to keep the words in her mouth, but something in the pit of her stomach— something ancestral and indignant— bubbles up and before she can stop herself, she’s on her feet. The sound of the chair sliding out from behind her fills the room like a single shot, and she’s off to the races, a flush creeping up her neck like judgment day. 

“You are so fucking selfish, Rust, I swear to god. You go through life like a fuckin’ wrecking ball and we all let you!” Her hysteria bleeds all over her face, unable to staunch it, “Everyone lets you do it because you’re stubborn as stupid and they don’t have anything better to do than watch you spiral out into nothing. You are a selfish, soft-bellied, bitch, and worse is, you’re a taker.”

Dani seethes, all asp and venom coiled tight in her posturing, verbally poking him in the chest with a fervent finger. 

She feels heady, leftover-drunk, like she’s full of hell and ready to tear something apart or run the mile or so home at full tilt. Something in her has been simmering, on its way to a rolling vociferous boil for a long time, and she’s reluctant to let it go. She’s fearing all the fight will go out of her if she looks him in the eye, so she stares deadly at the wall behind his head and finishes,

“You keep making up rules for me, ones I’m meant to follow without knowing- and the how and the why, well, it’s anyone’s fucking guess at this point- and then you haul off and get all mad and sour when I don’t know how to play your game. I just don’t know what you’re playing at, Rust,” and here she throws her hands around aimlessly, fixes him with a tired look that could wither weeds, “I just wanted you to like being around me. I’m just trying to be nice to you, and you’re so fuckin’ sick of me. I don’t know why I try.”

He waits, charming as ever, for her to tucker herself out. It’s nothing he hadn’t heard, endured, from Claire a time or four towards the end. He can be patient a spell, where Dani’s concerned - until she turns back over and shows her belly again- and he knows she will, knows she doesn’t have it in her to bite down on the bone he’s throwing her quite yet. He’d been trying to let her leave for a month, more, begging her to take the bait of his unhappiness and go home to her bugs and her books. She’s still soft-mouthed around it, gentle, like she doesn’t already know the taste of it in her mouth: the leaving, the getting left. 

Like a stupid puppy, he thinks, like a lap dog.

If he sucks his teeth and smirks, trying to look imposing, she doesn’t notice, or maybe is used to it. He wants to say “I know, sweet thing, you’ve been foolish and wild but you’ve been so good and so sweet on me. Stupid and so, so sweet. I’ll forgive it all, come here and lay in my lap, c’mere close to me a second, lemme look at you.” But he’s himself, and she’s been unruly, so instead he fixes her with what he hopes is consternation and says instead, “You misunderstand me, Danielle,” he says her whole name like an epithet, because he has it in him to be cruel and there’s a lesson here for her to learn, “I’m self-serving, not selfish, and there is a valley of difference. Now go home and put some ice on that shiner, and if I want any shit from you, I’ll come over there and squeeze your head. Lord knows you’re full of it.” She winces, and he watches her disassemble herself, her body shutting down like turning off all the lights in the house for the night. She stills, completely, taking out each bit of the bullet in her that might push back at him, might attempt to further wound him. She becomes all waiting, all tension. Her face settles to the paper picture of penance, serenity. The tears he could see welling do not spill over as she grabs her cellphone off the table and walks toward the door, as if she’s holding herself in by the edges and it’s starting to slip. Hand on the doorknob, she pauses, as if giving him an opportunity to take back his bite, to smooth it over, which he flatly does not take. And Rust is once again alone in his apartment, chewing his cheek like it owes him something.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The rain coming down in thick, sharp drops didn’t change anything at all. Dani marched home, through the mud and soaked down to the soul, with her arms wrapped tight around her middle because she was so wound up it was making her sick. She was hurt, and it was ugly, like a knot in the center of herself she would have to spend hours picking apart all by her lonesome. She wanted to tear down the sweetgum trees, or bury herself in their roots and sleep through the winter like a shallot instead of feeling whatever she was feeling now. She found it insufferable.

The screen door slammed behind her and left her dripping onto the floor in the entryway, looking down at her feet like they were a million miles away from her. Unsure of what exactly she was meant to do now, she kicked off the ruddy weight of her boots and walked over to lean against the kitchen counter, sliding down it to the floor and watching the puddle grow onto the linoleum. She wished, badly and in every secret part of her, that Mammy were here staring over at her with an eyebrow raised, asking her “...so what now, little cow?”. She wished for a lot of things that didn’t come true, these days.

Emptied out of all her ire, Dani felt like a child again. Something about Rust always reduced her, left her feeling smaller— at times it made her easier to hold in his orbit, which she liked, and at others made her feel like he wanted to see less of her, and those times she didn’t like as much. It was confusing, because sometimes he would look at her from across a room and it was like god’s revolver, fixing her in place with a ringing in her ears that wasn’t there before. The sense that Rust was trying to guide her somewhere neither of them truly wanted her to go was ever-present; he would soothe her, make her soft and bruisable, then he’d deliver. She’d go back into her hidey hole and lick her wounds, feel sorry for herself, then get bold again, and come back to get right with him (which somehow always ended with her asking for more). It seemed like no matter what happened, she wanted him, wanted to forgive him– loved it, even; the careful smoothing over. It felt hard to want him after a conversation like the one they’d just had, but she did. Somewhere in her, somewhere she didn’t want to look, there was a wellspring where she found a nasty, covetous thing that wanted to be wanted by him, and it felt well and truly like she was speaking from the bottom of that well every time she opened her mouth around him. 

The rain kept coming, and she kept hearing it coming down over the house, and after a while it got to be a lot. A lot of rain, a lot of feeling- nowhere for it to go except to spill out into the yard, soaking everything in sight. Something helpless in her kept clawing around in her ribcage, searching for her sense of terror to latch onto. The wind kept on picking up, blowing the switchgrass sideways and turning the windchime into tangles. Dani generally liked storms-- liked a good, healing rain; some lightning, thunder following close behind, sliding into its place just like it was meant to. This didn’t feel like that, didn’t feel calming or placating or constant, it felt like the fear of God put into her, and it spooked her well enough. She’d thought of the white-tailed deer bed down in times like these, with their necks and bodies curled together until they all seemed like one writhing, singular mythical thing, flattening the grass where they laid to keep safe. It was hard for her not to imagine what it would be like, to find a place to stop moving and simply wait for it to pass, but the more she thought about doing it alone, the more she felt panic sponging up all her softness and wonder. 

When she was littler, when she had first started living with her grandparents, her Mammy always told her that if she could hear the tornado siren, she should get in the tub and they would wait it out together. The rain would come, and they would practice- dragging all the quilts and pillows into the bath tub with the lights off and candles up on the vanity, Dani’s wiry, summer-skinned limbs all crunched up in between the porcelain. They’d laughed then, at the sound of Papa’s fussing about downstairs as if he was immune to disaster preparation, their heads tilted together in quiet collusion. She wished it was pretend again, something she did to soothe her Mammy’s nerves rather than to temper her own rickety hands. But when she’d stuffed two quilts and all the pillows from the couch into the tub this time, something about it felt hollow. She couldn’t help feeling helpless and unmoored then, like if she strayed too far from the center of the house she might fly off like in the movies, so she packed herself into the tub and stayed there for as long as she could bear- and then she bore it some more. She let candles melt themselves onto the ledges of the tub, sticking to the surface like moss she didn’t have the heart to remove. It grew around her while she slept there, the hours passing her by without permission, keeping her safe, held still as if in amber. If she kept the whiskey and crackers and summer sausage on a tray by the door, she had everything she needed in that single bathroom; she never had to leave. The rest of the house could blow down around her and she’d still be there on the second floor hearing her Mammy’s voice whispering through months to bring her comfort she didn’t even know to ask for. 

It was with a diluted kind of determination that she stepped carefully from her cocoon in the tub, thudding down the stairs as if trying to kick through each tread. She’d seen from the window on a reconnaissance trip to the kitchen that when this was all said and done, and whoever was up there saw fit to patch the holes in heaven, there’d be choring that needed done. Whiskey had done a nice job of licking up her spine to burrow in her brain, telling her she could go out and get a head start if she could just get out of the tub- and now that she was, she found herself incensed that the panel on the north side of the porch roof had found the audacity to spring a leak dangerously close to the porch swing. It was something she thought ought not to be abided by, not when Papa had paid good money at the Tractor Supply Company for that swing, and Mammy had loved it so. In some way, it felt like she was getting her revenge on this stupid storm, taking back what little power she could in keeping at least that swing safe from damage. Peering through the front window up at the stream of water sluicing down onto the porch, she could tell she’d need a ladder to get up that high, and she’d have to do it from out in the rain- but the 6’ ladder was in the shed still, and she didn’t really want to make a break for it in case she ate shit on the slick grass between the house and the door, but she was bored, and morose, and there was no one around to see her fall after all; so she decided to do it anyway. She pulled on her rain boots, and a bubble of a giggle rose up from the whiskey well in her stomach at the sloop sound her foot made when it slid home against the sole. 

Pushing open the screen door felt like she was airing out all the built-up comfort she’d created in the last day or two (she couldn’t really tell when it was gray all day and she’d been in the windowless bathroom), but she shuffled down the steps in that same child-like manner, heavy footed, before sprinting over to the shed to undo the lock which wasn’t really a lock, but a foot long hunk of rebar folded at a 90 degree angle. The ladder was heavy when she hoisted it up at such an awkward angle, so she didn’t really bother fastening the door behind her. Once she got it onto the porch, it was a strategy game as to how she was going to approach this endeavor. She knew how the tin roofing sheets were overlapped, so there must have been a spot up against the house that was bent out of shape enough to let water through, and she’d need pliers (and a good amount of strength, which from under her pleasantly warm liquor blanket seemed within reason) and a hammer to tamp it back down. Gathering her tools from the entryway, she set the ladder on the railing and tipped it down onto the ground beside the porch; unfolded it, shook it a few times to test its sturdiness, and climbed out. 

Once she was up high enough to see what she was doing, she made the mistake of looking down at the muddy ground, and was struck with a longing for her grandpa to be there, spotting her and handing her tools. Dani pressed inwardly, squeezing all her self, until the feeling was the size of a lemon seed in her chest. She took the pliers out of her coat pocket, and tried bending it back into place, but couldn’t get a sound enough grip- so she grabbed onto the sheet of tin, shifted her stance- and it bit her almost instantly, as if it was a petulant cat that did not want to be held. Her palm beaded up with blood, slicking under her grip when she tried to hold onto the eave- and then she was on the ground, suddenly and surprisingly- drops of rain were stinging her eyes as her lungs heaved against great odds to pull in any oxygen at all. Laying there, wheezing, eyes panicked in their path from spot to absent spot above her, she felt embarrassment smothering her like it was bleeding up from the ground she’d fallen onto to pull her down into the lawn.

When she had the wherewithal to put herself to rights, she was soaked to the bone and her face felt raw again, like she’d been backhanded on each cheek or through her skull somehow; both from the impact of her head against the earth and from the tiny needles of rain that hit her while she laid there in humiliation. She could barely manage the dignity to bring Papa’s ladder in from the rain, but she felt badly about letting it sit out in the elements as long as she had, so she at least folded it back up and laid it against the wall of the house under the eave. She went inside, hurting all over, and laid in her bathtub nest while that stupid bottle of rye eye-fucked her until she gave in and let it unstick all her joints.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rust enters the room like a sigh, these days. There is a purpose in him, hung on a humming wire, that has guided him home through the rain-slicked roads and the Hitchcock thing happening with the street lights. So he enters the bar in relief, his silhouette muted by the eave above the door, Rückenfigur in reverse. Bob’s the only one there, as always, a still life on the bar stool farthest from the door with a beer in his fist and his eyes pointed in no particular direction. The only reaction Rust manages from him is a grunt of acknowledgement, one which sounds pejorative, like always. 

“‘Evening, Robert.”

“Rust,” just his name, nothing else by way of greeting.

“How you holdin’ up? Anything exciting happen while I been gone?” Though he knows the answer is no, he finds it in him to check on the off chance he’ll be proven wrong, as he has more than once since he stepped foot in this godforsaken sunbleached state.

“Nope. Ought to go see about that Caydel girl, though, I imagine she’s none too pleased with you.”

“She ain’t my responsibility, Bob, you know that. There’s the work, and then there’s everything else. I can’t just go stripping myself of duty just because some girl with big ol’ puppy eyes needs someone to tell her how to be.” 

“Suit yourself,” he finishes, “shitheel.”

“Goodnight, Robert.”

Rust walks back out the way he came, into his apartment. And if he laid down in that unmade bed and took a deep breath of that grassy, earthen smell that echoed behind her, well. There was no one there to tell on him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When the sunrise came like the washed out gray of hospital light through a curtain, and the motions of his day had been gone through, he sat at his dining table staring at the spot Dani’d sat in. When she left the other day, in a huff and acting sour as he’d ever seen her, he hadn’t bothered to push the chair in. He didn’t quite know why, and when he realized that it’d been because she had changed the space in some way, altered his life, he couldn’t bear to change it back. Just like he couldn’t bear to toss the scrap of Sofia’s baby blanket he kept in his Crash kit, like he couldn’t get rid of the tapes he knew he shouldn’t have. Whatever she’d done to him had shifted something just off track, a metronome clicking in and out at just the wrong speed, and set him on a path he wasn’t even sure how to walk down. He hadn’t thought too much about their conversation the other morning, mostly because it pissed him off a little but also because the business of things had stretched his attention rather thin, and it didn’t seem like the time to make something out of what he felt was nothing but a corrective measure that benefitted everyone in the end. What he failed to consider, however, was the weight that would come tugging at his shirtsleeves when he returned and the place was empty of her- the bar, Hank’s grocery; his bed, for some reason. He didn’t miss her, it wasn’t something quite so pointed. He was just thinking about her, the way her eyes would squint when she played an admittedly shit hand which made her think Bob was having one over on her, or the way little strands of her hair would curl from the humidity at the end of both the braids she always wore. He thought about her house, to which he had been just the once, wondered what she was reading, what she filled her days with now that she didn’t have anyone around to entertain her. The last thought clicked against something in his chest, a zippo spark in 30mph winds, there and gone in an instant. But he followed it, wondered some more about what she thought about all this rain, if she was safe. That got him up quick, and before he could pause to form any sort of plan, or really consider what he was doing in the first place, he was tossing his toolbox into the bench seat and starting off toward her place.

The asphalt had turned to claydirt almost halfway between the bar and her place, which was marked with a kitschy wood-burned sign that read “Caydel Cove”, though it wasn’t on any body of water he knew, and which he found charming. Pulling up to the house beneath sheets of rain, he paused to really look at the structure- the shakes on the east and west sides were old and warped, and the rain probably wasn’t doing them any good. The forest green tin roofing over the porch seemed to be doing only half a job, because it was pouring water down over the sides close to the house, which meant the foundation was holding water and like to sink over the decades. He felt a little nettle of pity to the heart at that- something that was so good and safe to her not being meant to last. 

When almost 20 minutes had passed and all he’d done was sit in the truck and watch the water come down, he got himself out of the truck and walked quickly up to the porch. Knocking on the door, he tried peeking in through the lace cafe curtains covering the windows, only to find no movement at all, like no one had ever been home, and the house was stuck in time like amber. Her truck was in the driveway, but he knew she didn’t drive it much except to church and to the store. Trying his luck with the doorknob proved fruitful, because all of the sudden he was standing in her entryway again, that damn screen door ushering him in quick under threat of pinched fingers. He took it all in, her boots flung haphazardly in the middle of the walkway, the needle nose pliers and hammer on the bench, the rain coat hung from the shoulder on the hook beside the door. Standing stock still, as if he could feel her in the house if he waited quietly enough, he heard her. Lilting, soft song coming from a door down the hall, some old hymnal:

“Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden? Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus; Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden? Tell it to Jesus alone”

His feet moved toward it before his brain did, and he found that funny. Stopping in front of the door, he knocked twice, soft so as not to spook her, though her answer came frightened and watery, like a child’s.

“Hello? Who’s’at?”

“It’s me, it’s Rust. Thought I’d check on ya, just got back into town this mornin’.”

“Oh. Well, I’m fine,” she sniffled, and he could tell she was the opposite but was a gentleman this side of the door all the same, “just, um. I’m just hanging out in here, I do that sometimes.” 

She laughed, pitiful and derisive, and it set his hand to turning the knob. When he was in the bathroom with her, looking down at the package of crackers he’d shoved out of the way by opening the door wide, it was like somebody’d stuck a boning knife up in him, quick and thin going up his soft insides. It smelled like sleep and sweat and whiskey, not bad, really, but like she’d been in here a while.

“Go home, Rust. You don’t gotta worry about me, I won’t give you no trouble no more. Don’t gotta do a thing, my happy little ass will stay right here and won’t be a thorn in your side again,” she hiccups through it like she’s swallowing the words, and when he notices the bottle of Johnny Walker on the corner of the tub he sighs. 

“Don’t be like ‘at, Danielle, it doesn’t suit you. What are you doin in the tub, huh? Having a slumber party with your friend Johnny?”

She rolls her eyes at him, scoffs like he would know shit about shit if it hit him upside the head. 

“I am, in fact, and he’s a good friend who can admit when he done me wrong,” she narrows her eyes at him, self-satisfied, and that crease between her brows damns him into kneeling down on the pink rug beside her, “unlike some people we know.”

He doesn’t know quite yet where to look; her legs are bare, fuzzy and too long for the space she’s in. Her hair is messy, unwashed, and undone from its usual pair of braids, tucked behind her ear on the side not currently pressed into a throw pillow. Her eyes are puffy, watery and bloodshot, so he knows she’s been at this a while, and it seems stupid to him that he waited to find out how she felt about their conversation when he could’ve very well predicted she’d be some level of upset about it. Instead, he focuses on her hands, tucked in close to her chest like she’d done when she’d fallen asleep on his mattress, but this time there’s a strip of electrical tape wrapped around her right palm that his eyes can’t help but laser focus on.

“What happened to your hand there, huh?” he points with his chin.

“I got attacked by sheetmetal and barely escaped with my life,” she smiles up at him as if there’s any great secret that can still be kept from him, “patched it up fine, though. Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“Gimme your hand, hmm? Just wanna see,” he extends his hand, palm turned up toward the geriatric yellow light of her bathroom. When she plops her hand in his, even her knuckles burn against the lifelines drawn in it, fever humming like an electric current in her skin.

“Careful with the tape, you gotta go slow, ‘cause I think it might open back up if you’re too quick with it. It’s not even that deep, think I’m just bleeding extra ‘cause I’m on a liquid diet,” her words taper off at the end, like the shame bleeds into her speech while her blood seeps out from where he lifts the tape up. The cut is, in fact, decently deep, and it’s no surprise it comes out of her the way it does. She tries to pull her hand away then, tries to keep the blood inside her but it falls all over him anyway. Steady drip, painting the porcelain in weighted drops that splatter on impact. His concern comes latent, ratcheting up through quite a few levels of control to paint his face with something like disdain, but is really just what he thinks is a pathetic amount of concern. 

“How in the hell did this happen?” he asks, suspecting resistance, rewarded with a surprising amount of brevity given the situation.

“Went out to fix the eave, got bit, fell off the ladder, knocked the wind outta myself pretty goddamn good, came in here. Pretty simple chain of events, really.” She looks almost satisfied, as if she could deserve anything other than feather light kisses on the eyelids and bubble baths and total revery.

“That’s not- Dani- you can’t be doing that type of thing without-” he stops himself from saying me, instead says “someone around to help.”

“Well there was no one around to help, and it was making me mad, so I went to fix it up. It’s my goddamn house now, I’m responsible for it, and you don’t gotta sit here and lecture me when you don’t give half a shit no-how.” Her nose scrunches up, and she looks away from him. He feels unmoored, lost in the sway of her mood, unable to buoy himself against her independence. 

When he doesn’t respond, she continues, opening up the floodgates,

“And the daffodils,” she moans, voice thick with abject misery, “my Mammy’s fuckin’ flowers are ruined. That stupid fucking panel on the porch roof came loose and the six foot ladder is tall enough to get me up there but it’s still too fuckin’ slick for me to get up there and fix it proper and I just,” at this, she looks at her knees grinding up against the porcelain, brows knitting and a fresh crop of tears welling up and spilling over her lashline, “feel like I’m not doing them right. Not taking care of their house. Not taking care of them.”

He’s close enough to her, leaned up against the edge of the tub, he could press his forehead to hers. He thinks about it, thinks about pressing himself against her to snuff out whatever’s hurting her so bad. Denying himself this tenderness feels like the last thread of control he has here, and he’s hanging onto it with all he’s got.

“Oh, hey now- just. Shhhh, it’s alright,” she’s not quite crying anymore, moreso just filling up with water, and whatever’s holding him together falls all apart instantly, “No need to fret over it, tidbit, no sense in getting worked up so bad. I’ll help you fix it, huh? Got a toolbox in the truck out front.”

He finds his mouth is pressed up against her hairline then, as if he could press the words into the soft pink matter of her brain to make them stick. It’s a pain in him that creeps in again, one that calls back the murky after-images of tiny tiny palms, shredded by an asphalt driveway- one that opens up a hole inside him which goes straight down to the middle of the earth, yawning all the long way down. The way she trembles up against him, though she tries to hide it, meets up with various regrets and guts him clean.

“Rust, how come you’re like this to me? You’re mean, and you’re nice, and then you just rinse and repeat and I never know what to do,” Dani’s voice sounds brick-thick, like she’s been building a house to keep the words in, and is awful surprised at their using the front door to be spoken aloud.

“You think I’m mean, huh?” Huffing a laugh through his nose, he continues, “Nah, I just think you ain’t been told ‘no’ enough recently.”

“I get told no all the time- no more Mammy, no more Papa, no more sunshine, no more cards, no more roof. No more whiskey,” she sniffles, all pitiful and petite; toes the near-empty bottle across the ledge of the tub to prove her point, “no more you.” 

Her eyes shift from the whiskey, to her foot, to the bottom of the porcelain, and back to up him again. There’s a pleading there, when her gaze finds his again, that he doesn’t know if he likes. She’s asking something of him again, asking him to let the mourners through. If he tries to find the steel force of will he felt before, it eludes his grasping. He hates to see her like this, run down and awful again like there was no one in the world who held her dear. “I’m not saying no, Dani, I’m just askin’ you to not do whatever you want all the time. You can do that, huh? You’re a smart cookie, you can do what I tell you.” His voice goes soft where he tries to make his point, like it meets the target and melts. Nothing in him has an edge right now, and it’s disarming in some unplaceable way. He prickles at the affect she has on him, how she softens parts of his resolve, and he aches to clamp his molars down on whatever it is she has that makes him want to braid her hair and keep her hands smooth. He feels the bit slip higher in his mouth, almost willing to go where she takes him, and tenses at it. When Dani senses it, she tries to sluice herself away, tries to curl back into quilts and down pillows where she thinks she’s safe. 

“You’re mean sometimes, Rust, but it’s okay,” she sighs there, the knobs of her spine rolling against the wall, “I won’t mind. S’easier to figure you out when you are. When you go soft I don’t know where to start, so. I can deal with mean.” The smile she gives him is diluted, displaced. Eyes watery, lips curling in complacency he knows she doesn’t want to mean. He wants to bite clean through her bottom lip, earn some anger, her blood-tinged spitting. He doesn’t completely know what he wants, but he’s dead set on getting something true and unfettered out of her someday soon. 

“And I think I should say sorry for how I was actin’ the other day. It wasn’t nice, and I didn’t mean it anyway. Sorry for calling you a bitch. I think something’s wrong with me, ‘cause when I’m upset sometimes I just wanna burn everything down”

“S’okay, sometimes I do the same. I shouldn’ta been so hard on you, I know you get lonely up here.” 

His voice is uncharacteristically sheepish then, his turn now to be surprised by what comes out of him when he’s not trying to keep a lid on. The quiet lulls back in between them, and he gets up to find some kind of first aid kit to wrap her hand up to keep it from going bad. When he finds it under the sink, he settles in to bandage it proper with gauze and medtape, a routine that seems second nature. When it smarts, she sucks her teeth, so he soothes her like a wounded animal, with his voice.

“I got some errands I gotta run outta town this week,” he says, searching her face for disappointment he knows he’ll find, “so if you could stay put till Sunday, I’d be pleased as anything. You can do that for me, can’t you? got enough to do around the house?” 

Asking in lieu of telling is as close as he’ll let himself get to what he really wants, which is to chain her to his bathroom sink and come back Monday morning to rub her ankles in bag balm after kissing ‘em sweet. The urge to stuff her mouth and dress her in a cotton nightgown rises rapidly, alarmingly close to the surface of his skin, but he relaxes his fists and it overrides the compulsion until he’s speaking in the tone he needs to with her. The way he wants to keep her could eat him whole, drown them both; makes his eyelashes itch. He never knows what to do when that need comes calling. 

“I can play nice, Rust. I’m unruly, but I ain’t simple. Where do you keep going, anyway? Ain’t no way you’re off doing business for Bob, I’ve seen liquor bottles in that bar that are from the cretaceous period,” she chuckles as she says it, rubbing the back of her hand after he sets it back down against her chest. She’s very obviously trying to keep some levity in her breath, though what it seems she really wants to know is how bad she can be while still playing by his rules.

He doesn’t want to answer, but finds himself willing to. Could be because she grew up around here, had guardians who loved her and probably wanted something good for her; she could know something about anything that would lead him somewhere. More likely is he just wants to give her something to bite down on, some little morsel of himself she can keep close to keep her stewing until he gets back. 

“You know them Tuttle schools, Baptist ones, they started popping up around here in the 90s? I’m just curious about how things were running then, why they closed down, stuff like ‘at. Curious, is all, call it a history hobby.” He makes it seem so casual, so pedestrian, even though it pains him a little. He finds that he takes it so serious, it’s especially difficult to lie about it to Dani, who doesn’t know hardly anything about him, but would keep his secrets in spite of all his spurning. 

“Uh huh, they had a few of ‘em set up down here when I was little, everyone knows ‘em. I went to Shepherd’s Flock for a year or two growing up, before my grandparents put me in public school. They were nice, from what I remember, we got to play outside a lot, and there were always a bunch of adults around so it was hard to misbehave. Got a lot easier in the public system, obviously, but,” her shoulders hitch up toward her ears, as if it’s a given. As if the admission hadn’t sent a pulse through his spine at the mention of her ever being in a place that could have caused her danger when she was so small, something Rust hadn’t scarcely considered until now. 

His lips twitch to the side where she can’t see, the need to chew on his cheek rising unimpeded through every atom in his body. 

“Ain’t that something? Tell me more.”

“Not much to tell,” shrugging again, like she has no idea that the world he’s found here in her company is now colliding with one so sick and upended, “lots of rules, and there was always so many people around you couldn’t pick your nose without someone breathing down your neck and threatening to smack you over it. I liked being outside, ‘cause I could look at all the bugs and stuff on the playground, and there was this kid who was always nice to me, so sometimes we’d make up stories about how we were fairies and they were like, our subjects or something. Think he was a little fruity even then, but he was always sweet to me and it meant I wasn’t really lonely.”

“You remember his name? Seems like a lot of kids got displaced when them schools shut down,” the even tone of his voice is forced, and he’s thankful as fuck for her being a little tipsy yet, else she’d call him on it. “Mmm, started with a T for sure, something like Teddy or Thomas, kinda hard to remember back that far. It’ll come to me,” she says, shaking her head a little as if to clear the cobwebs, “you want something to drink? I think there’s tea in the cupboard, or some beers in the fridge. Got cheese too, if you want some cheese and crackers.”

Grinning up at him, sated and hopeful, they make their way down the stairs to the kitchen. Rust watches as she ambles about in her perfectly comfortable little world, gray sweats slung low around her hips, mis-matched socks scrunched up around her feet. She putzes about, opens the fridge with an eyebrow raised in his direction, to which he nods. Two Budweisers appear on the table before him, and she plops down in the seat before a look of surprised delight flashes across her face, and then she’s up at the fridge again, taking out a block of cheese. While she’s standing at the counter beside the stove, he picks at the chipped veneer on the rounded edge of the table, trying hard not to press a line of questioning he feels destined to go down. She does it on her own, though, when she sets down a plate of ritz crackers and unevenly sliced cheddar in front of him.

“Tony! It’s Tony, the kid I was friends with then. Tonyyyy… Boebert,” she draws out the last syllable of a first name, and it’s like the first golden bugle of the morning to him then. A name, a time, a place. She beams with it, this morsel of information hard-won through the backlogs of her memory. He files it all away, reminds himself to remind himself to pay a visit to Marty on his way home to do some sifting through files.

When she plops herself down in the chair kitty-corner from him and pops the top on her beer, she toys with the tab and looks to be working up some kind of courage, if the way she refuses to meet his eye says anything at all. In lieu of speech, she drags her finger down the can to wipe off the condensation, column by fingerprinted column, making him think of some far-flung reality where he licks it from the pads of her fingers and is endlessly satisfied.

“I been thinkin,” she starts, pulling him gently from his wishing, “I been wanting to go fishing, but I don’t really have anyone to go with- and it’s just,” a little sigh again, like she always seems to do when she doesn’t know she can ask for what she wants, “It’s more fun going with someone, y’know? When you can bring a cooler and sit in the silence and all. If I’m good while you’re gone, you’ll take me, won’t you? Like one morning before you open the bar or somethin’? Good bass fishing in the lakes around here, I think.”

He waits until her eyes flick up to meet his to offer her his best put-on paternal smile, one that says ‘anything you ask, sweet one’, and lets his shoulders relax even further. He knows she needs this, needs to see him slack the rope a bit. Anyhow, he finds himself wanting to give more for getting less around her. 

“And this is you, what? Trying to square a deal?”

“I mean, I guess so. Why, you considering the odds? I’m not such bad company, am I?” she asks, playful as if she has no idea their toes are touching beneath the table, that the single point of connection affects him on what feels like a cellular level.

“I could be amenable; if you’re on your best behavior and I don’t have to find you in any shade of trouble again.”

“Promise,” she offers her pinky over to him across the oak table, an olive branch, “I’ll play safe.” 

He takes her pinky in his, because it feels sweet to, and he can afford it now that she’s pliant.

“I’ll be back Sunday morning, I’ll come get you around 5, how does that sound?”

“Like a plan,” she answers, glitter in her eyes and a shit-eating grin stuck on her face.