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lqfiles · 2 days

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PAY THE PRICE — 17. i DO have a girlfriend

(wc: 2.075 sozz yall)

they say fuck around and find out for a reason. haechan was never one to take the saying too serious, though he wishes he did. he’s sure he wouldn’t be in this predicament if he hadn’t taken those words so lightly.

he wasn’t sure whether to blame himself, or you at this moment.

“i know you’re there, haechan.” haechan threw his head back with a groan. gripping onto the door handle, he slowly opened it, letting a sliver of his body show through the crack.

“what do you want.” haechan asked, already growing impatient. if she had noticed the tone, she didn’t comment on it, instead greeting him with a warm smile. “it’s been a while.” she answered back.

“for a reason.” haechan answered back and the urge to close the door was starting to overtake him. alas, he still kept it slightly open, wanting to know why she had sought after him after a month of not talking.

“i missed you..” haechan couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped past his lips. he opened the door further, still not fully open, but enough for the rest of his body and face to show. “listen, cut this whole flattering stuff. why are you here, how did you even find my place?” haechan questioned.

her mouth opened and closed for a while, trying to come up with an answer. “well someone told me you lived here- that’s not even the point, i wanna talk to you. wanna talk about us.” she motioned her hand back and forth in the space between them and once again, it took everything in haechan to not throw the door close in her face.

“well i’m weirded out right now. and i don’t know what you mean with talking about ‘us’, because there is no us. we haven’t talked in a month, please move on.” haechan didn’t even attempt to sugarcoat his words, wanting her to understand the seriousness of the things he said and take the hint.

“can we just not try it again? i swear we got along so well, why don’t you want to try again? lets… just give me a chance.” the girl in front of him continued to plead. the sheer desperation laced in her words made haechan close his eyes for a moment, wondering how things even got this far.

it had been around 10 minutes since he opened his door, and he was surprised himself that he didn’t close it yet.

there is a reason why haechan doesn’t talk to the same girl for more than a week, and she was an example of why that was the case. he sighed. “i’m sorry, but i’ll pass.”

“that’s not a good reason!” she rebutted almost instantly and haechan took a step back from surprise. she followed his steps, stepping forward herself, almost entering his apartment. “woah now, step back, and what do the mean with that?” haechan hovered his hands over her shoulder, encouraging her to take steps back, which turned out to be ineffective as she didn’t budge one bit.

“at least give me a reason that has more meaning to it! you can’t just lead me on and expect me to be okay with you breaking what we had.” she whined, and haechan felt dumbfounded.

“woah now, i did not lead you on. if anything, it’s you who put your expectations too high. i’m pretty sure i had told you no several when you asked me to be your boyfriend like, three days into knowing each other.” haechan shot back with a frown, taking a step forward himself.

she took a step back with a small gulp following. haechan’s deep frown remained as he continued. “and if it makes you leave me alone, then i’ll have you know that i already have a girlfriend now. is that good enough of a reason?”

haechan was sure the comment would’ve been enough for her to turn around and walk off, he was even getting ready to shut the door close.

“i don’t believe you.” she simply responded and haechan’s jaw hung low as the words left her mouth. “i don’t believe you, you said yourself that you have a hard time with commitment before, so all of a sudden you just have a new girlfriend?”

haechan felt like a ticking time bomb that was ready to explode any second with the way his patience was running out. he took a deep breath in and closed his eyes again. “well, you better believe it.” haechan calmly answered back.

he opted to not comment on the mention of his lack of commitment as he found it rather.. ironic, that she was asking for the same thing she was ridiculing him for.

“okay, then who is it?” she questioned him with much doubt. haechan, realising that the conversation wasn’t ending any time soon, took a step out of his apartment before closing the door behind him. leaving the two of them in the hall.

just the two of them, until the door next to his opened and out of it came you. turning around, you stopped in your tracks once you took in the scene, surprise evident on your face as you looked back and forth between haechan and the girl you had seen on the ground floor.

haechan’s own eyes locked with you, an impulsive thought immediately taking over his mind. technically, you did owe him an apology for doxxing him. and he did promise to drag you into it. those were all the reasonings haechan needed before he pointed his thumb your way without hesitation.

“she is.”

haechan shuffled towards your side within seconds, slinging his arm around your shoulder before pressing you into his side. he knew not to look at you for the time being, he was sure if the two of you made eye contact, you’d ruin his cover up.

which to his dismay, you still did regardless. “what are you talking about- ow!” haechan gave you a little pinch on the side of your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly after before pulling you closer once a yelp came from you. “yeah, this is her. my girlfriend.”

the way you slowly turned your body to face him almost made haechan wince. he could only imagine the nasty glare you were sending him, or the look of confusion on your face- point is, he didn’t want to look at you.

the girl in front of haechan eyed both him and you who was tightly held into his side with an unconvinced look. “that’s literally the girl who gave me your address.” she scoffed in disbelief, and haechan panicked for a moment, he had totally forgotten about that.

“i think you got the wrong person, (—) has been in her room the whole time, right?”

this time, haechan mustered up the courage to turn your way. “right?” he pressed. the attention was back on you and you remained speechless. there was a hidden plea painted on haechan’s face, as if he was begging you to just play along. you turned your head back to look at the girl in front of you, her own face contorted into irritation.

you weren’t sure what you just got caught up in, but meekly nodded your head regardless.

“well, i still don’t believe it.”

haechan couldn’t even count how many exasperated groans he let out by now. “that’s your issue, just leave me alone from now on since i’m clearly in a committed relationship.” he retorted. unbeknownst to each other, the words leaving haechan’s mouth made both his and your guts churn.

it took a few more seconds, but with a single last scoff, she had turned around and marched off. it left you and haechan all by yourself. the silence that followed was painful and haechan tried everything in him to not move an inch, scared it would trigger you.

“you fucker!” you pushed him away, reaching up to rub the spot where he had previously pinched you. what did he think, of course you wouldn’t let him get away with this.

“listen..” haechan started. “no, what the fuck was that about that! why are you going around calling me your girlfriend to others?!” you freaked out. you reached over to haechan, trying to grasp his neck in hopes of inflicting pain but he beat you to it, taking ahold of your wrists and keeping them by his side in defence.

“i’m not going around saying it to others, it was just her.” haechan defended himself, his grip on your wrist still tight. you managed to wiggle out of it before giving him a push. “doesn’t matter, why are you using me.” haechan could sense the hostility from you and quickly reached for your wrists again, making sure no attempts at harming him would follow.

“i had no other choice, okay? she wouldn’t leave me alone and didn’t accept a normal rejection. just know that this was the only solution there was, and clearly it worked!” haechan protested. he could feel the way you clenched your fist in his hand. if that didn’t indicate how pissed you were, the way you gritted your teeth at him did.

“so you used me!” you yanked your wrists out of haechan’s hold, turning around to walk over to the wall next to your door and placing your head against it in dread. “i wouldn’t call it using you.. matter of fact i told you i would drag you into this, not so funny now huh?”

you didn’t even realise haechan had walked towards you until you turned around. “stop acting like its the end of the world, its not like we’ll have to pretend to be a couple.” haechan tried to reassure. “though, i don’t get what’s wrong about being known as my girlfriend, what’s so bad about dating me?” haechan asked, somewhat amused by your reaction.

the proximity between you two was surprisingly close and you wondered why he got so near. you backed yourself more into the wall to get more space. “i could give you a whole list.” your words didn’t come out as confident as you wanted them to and it caught both you and haechan off guard.

he chuckled, a hum following right after. “go ahead, i’m all ears.” he taunted, and your mind blanked for a moment. you swore you could come up with more reasons than you were able to list, but something about the way haechan was staring you down, eyes not flickering away even if yours did, broke the train of thoughts in your head.

“well.. you know, you’re haechan, that’s one. and.. you’re annoying too so that’s that:” this was stupidly embarrassing, and you knew haechan thought the same as a grin found its way to his face. “hm? is that all?” he provoked, and before you could react, both his hands latched onto your wrists and pulled you away from the wall, a lot closer to him.

“i’d almost think you wanted this, is that true (—)?” you’re sure your eyes had popped out of your sockets, and your heart rate spiked for a moment. even your hands were starting to feel clammy. “what are you talking about?” it seemed like none of your words were willingly to come out confidently like you wanted.

you’re glad that haechan bursted out laughing and let go off you, because you’re convinced that if you stayed in that position for a little longer, you would’ve considered his theory. “you should’ve seen your face just now! i didn’t even know people could be that shocked, kinda cute.” haechan laughed as he walked over to his apartment door.

you stood there frozen in your spot, trying to process what just happened. “oh, and (—).” he called out to you one last time, his back turned to you. “next time someone asks for me that isn’t renjun or yangyang, just say i’m not home.” there was a hint of teasing behind his words and you were convinced there was a motive behind them other than the clear instructions.

“you can do that for me, right babe?” of course, he just wanted to provoke you. haechan thought he was hilarious as he entered his apartment and closed the door, leaving you all alone. you groaned, doing the only thing you could come up with that felt equally provoking.

you kicked his door before going back into your apartment, the groceries you were planning on buying totally forgotten.

previous — master list — next

notes ; the guilt i feel whenever i make a written chapter because it defeats the purpose of an smau ughhh anyways it’s gonna get fun from here i think and hopefully more smau-ish

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @aggtslva @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

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starkwlkr · 14 hours

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you’re so vain | jenson button

through the decades masterlist

California 1972

The day you met Jenson Button was the day you swore you would never fall in love with, but of course his charming smile had convinced you. But then came the worst part, he had become someone else. If you looked up the definition of vain in the dictionary, a picture of Jenson would be there. Ever since he became the world champion, it was all he could talk about.

“Hey, lovely, why don’t you put down the pen and paper and let’s go drive around? I know the perfect place for you and me. Remember how you used to love driving with me?” Jenson said over the phone one day.

“I would rather die than ever go on a date with you again, Jenson Button.” And you ended the call. You weren’t sure how he even got your number in the first place, but one thing was for sure, you would never go on a date with him.

After dismissing your call with Jenson, you walked back to your recording booth where your band was. You had a melody stuck in your head for the past couple of days and you desperately wanted to write down lyrics for it, but nothing came up.

“Hey, Y/n! Some Button guy keeps calling the landline, says he wants to take you out to dinner.” The drummer of your band said as he entered the room.

“For fucks sake.” You sighed. “Tell him I’m not here, that I left the country or something.”

“Okay . . . ” The drummer, Brad, said confused but went with it. He walked back to the phone.

“Button guy? What’s that about?” The guitarist, Dave, asked.

“He’s a formula one driver, but he’s so egotistical! This one time we went to a party and he walks in like he’s on a yacht! I can’t believe I even went out with him. . .” You sighed.

“Aren’t all formula one drivers a little bit egotistical? Or this Button guy worse?” Brad came back. “He asked if you were writing a song about him and I hung up. Can’t believe you dated him.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “What’s worse is that we’re supposed to perform at his boss’s birthday party this weekend. He’s definitely going to be there.”

When you were with Jenson, his boss had asked you to perform at his birthday party and you being the kind person, you said yes. Now there was no way of getting out of it.

Brad then spoke. “Well if he wants a song written about him. . . I say you write one and you perform it at the party.”

It didn’t take you long to grab your journal and pen and start writing down lyrics. You had your new song finished it about three hours and spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a melody with the band. Soon, Jenson Button would hear his song in front of thousands of people.

—

Jenson had arrived to the party as if he owned the place. He had a pretty woman by his side and a beer in his hand. He spotted his friends and greeted them.

“This beauty right here is . . .” Jenson truly couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Sarah? Linda? “Tell them your name, love, it sounds better when you say it cause of your accent. Music to my ears!”

“Amara, nice to meet you.” The woman said with a lovely Italian accent.

“How’d you meet each other?” Jenson’s friend asked.

“Met her in Saratoga.” Jenson replied. In reality, that was all he remembered. What was he doing in Saratoga? Who knows. . .

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” The host of the party and Jenson’s boss announced on the microphone. He stood on the stage with a bright smile. “First off, thank you for joining me and my family this evening. We’ve had a very successful year, thanks to our world champion, Jenson Button!”

A bright light shined on Jenson, who waved to the crowd, clearly loving the attention. Soon enough, Jenson wouldn’t like it at all.

“Now, for the main event, miss y/n l/n!”

You walked to the stage with total confidence. You wore your best dress and heels, ready to sing your heart out. The crowd cheered for you and the band, all but one. Jenson.

“Isn’t that the chick you were dating?” A friend whispered to him.

“Her name is y/n.” Jenson corrected.

“Well hello! You all look very lovely tonight. We are very happy to be here and I hope we all have a great time. So our first song is a new one, but feel free to dance.” You smiled at the crowd as your band started playing.

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye Your scarf it was apricot

Jenson watched as you sang beautifully. He had seen you perform many times before but this one felt different. Even his date was loving the new song. Amara bopped her head as you sang.

It wasn’t until the chorus that Jenson started to realize what was going on.

“You're so vain! You probably think this song is about you!” You sang as you looked at Jenson.

Of course she would do this, thought Jenson. He looked around and saw the crowd living the song. How could they enjoy it?

“I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?”

As you continue singing, Jenson remembered the phone call he made several days ago.

“Is she writing a song about me? Oh, poor lovesick y/n can’t get over me.”

This was his song. Fuck.

Suddenly, the confident Jenson was nowhere to be seen. You took that confidence and stomped on it with your pretty little heels. For once in his life, Jenson hated being your muse.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #jenson button fic #jenson button #jb22

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sodaabaa · 3 days

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reunited a court of thorns and roses

rhysand x reader after reader is taken by tamlin, she yearns for the day she can be reunited with her mate.

tw: none

Five months. That’s how long I’d been trapped with Tamlin and his court of thorns. Once upon a time I was happy here, happy with him. Now, it took everything I had to control myself from scratching his eyes out every time he looked at me. Every word he said, every condescending explanation he gave me as to why he thought, why he believed that Rhys had manipulated my mind, drove me insane. Leaving this godforsaken place with Rhys all those months ago was the best decision I’d ever made. Now I was stuck here all over again. Caged in a rose covered prison, suffocated by piles of tulle and chiffon and silk.

I hadn’t shown Tamlin, or anyone, any of the powers I had. I didn’t tell him what I was. Rhys and Amren had figured out that I was an angel. Centuries before the fae emerged, angels ruled the heavens and the Earth. Once the fae were created after years of evolution, the angels died out. But while the physical form of these beings may cease to exist, their souls don’t. Their souls are still here, roaming through the heavens. I guess the angels knew war was imminent in my lifetime so they breathed an angel’s soul into me when I was born and I’d gone all those years unknowing of what I was, what I was capable of. Until I had found out what Amarantha had done to Rhys.

As if one cue, a piece of paper appeared on my nightstand with a coal black pen.

“You’re thinking about me aren’t you” I could hear his arrogant smirk in those words.

I smiled, that bastard always knew, even if we were thousands of miles apart. I picked up the pen to write back but as I was doing so, the door opened and I quickly hid it under my pillow. My smile fell.

“I brought you some paints.” Tamlin paused, unsure of what to say next.

I merely looked out the window and said, “I have no inspiration.”

He frowned, “you’re in the Court of Spring, what more inspiration do you need?”

The swirling night sky. The shimmering golden lights of the City of Starlight. His black, satin wings that carried the midnight sky with him.

Oh, how sweet, your description of my city and my wings flatters me darling.

I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from smiling like a fool.

Tamlin must have taken great offense to my comment, he left without giving me a chance to respond. Good.

I anxiously pulled out the pen and paper.

“He could have seen the note, be careful next time you prick.”

I set the items on the desk and within seconds it vanished, and reappeared just as fast.

“I miss bickering with you. I miss you.” Such simple words yet my heart ached with longing.

I wrote back, “I miss you too. Just a few more days, I need to convince him to side with us.”

The paper vanished and never returned.

I shifted in the bed I’d been in for hours, refusing to socialize with anyone at the manor. Everyone was blindly loyal to Tamlin and I knew if I left the manor grounds, they’d instantly report to him so I had no reason to even bother faking a smile towards those vipers. I looked out to the night sky, it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the velvety blue skies of the Night Court but it was still a reminder of who ruled those skies and it comforted me regardless. With that thought, I fell into a deep sleep.

The voices of Tamlin and Lucien could be heard from a mile away. They were arguing over my freedom. I paused on the stairs, my blush pink dress swaying with the movement.

“How long are you going to keep her locked up hm? You can’t keep her here forever.” Lucien spat.

“Until Rhysand isn’t a problem anymore. Until I know he won’t come to take her again.”

I rolled my eyes. Imagine being deluded enough to think you could beat Rhys, the most powerful High Lord in history. I scoffed. Their heads turned in my direction. I covered it by clearing my throat and smiling, resuming my path down the stairs.

“Good morning my love.” I held back a gag.

Tamlin smiled, the fool really thought I was in love with him. “Good morning, we were just finishing up our conversation.” He shot a pointed look at Lucien.

I smiled, lips in a thin line. He wanted to keep me locked up like a prisoner, still.

I took a seat between Tamlin and Lucien. “Can we speak in private please Tamlin.”

He gave me an exhausted look, he knew what I was going to ask. Despite that, he sent Lucien away with a wave of his hand.

“I know what you want to say and you already know my answer.” He said.

I stood up and slammed my hands on the table, rattling the silverware.

“It’s been three months since I saw something outside these walls. Send an escort of guards with me if you want but let me go somewhere, anywhere.” I shouted.

He looked at me through his brows. “You know better than me, I could send an army of guards with you and Rhysand would slice through the brigade like butter to take you away. I won’t risk it.”

He was standing now, trying to intimidate me into compliance.

“And I won’t be kept here like a prisoner! In what world is this love?”

“I’m protecting you!” He growled

“You’re suffocating me!” I yelled.

“Enough. There will be no further conversation about this matter.”

I stilled. And then I felt it. I could sense him before he’d even arrived. I looked past Tamlin and to the doorway.

Rhys.

He was standing tall, his hands in his pockets, ever the nonchalant High Lord. His violet eyes looked over me head to toe, scanning for any signs of injuries.

Tamlin must have noticed I was looking past him and turned. He moved to shield me, beginning to shift into a beast. I didn’t pay any attention to it. Every bone, every nerve, every cell in my body was shouting for me to run to him. So I did.

Tamlin shouted after me and guards ran in but they froze as soon as they ran into the room. It felt as if I’d been running for miles before I crashed into his chest, he stumbled back but his arms wrapped around me and lifted me up. My entire being relaxed into the embrace as I held him tight.

“Miss me?” He breathed into my ear.

Tears welled in my eyes as I nodded into his neck. He let me down just as Tamlin was approaching, rage burning in his eyes.

I stood in front of Rhys as Tamlin began charging. I crossed my arms and Tamlin met with a wall of light. He bounced back but got up instantly. Like twin flames, Rhys and I let out our wings, his midnight black wings contrasting with my soft white.

Tamlin froze, he hadn’t known about my abilities.

“What are you doing? He’s manipulating you, turning you against me.”

I scoffed. “You turned me against you.”

“I love you.” He said in a not so loving tone.

“Rhys loves me. And I him.”

Unexpectedly, he shoved me away and lunged for Rhys who easily dodged his advances.

“You’ve gone soft Tamlin.” Rhys taunted.

Tamlin lunged again, this time he managed to grab Rhys, who was unimpressed.

“I’m going to skin you alive.” He said through his teeth.

Rhys merely rolled his eyes and looked at me as if to say, ‘look at this guy.’

Rhys grabbed Tamlins arms and twisted them, kneeing him in the gut and throwing him onto the floor all in one swift motion.

“You’re gonna have to try a lot harder to even land a punch, dear Tamlin.”

This time, Tamlin didn’t get back up. Rhys was holding him down with his mind.

“We’ll spare your life on one condition.” I spoke to him.

His nose flared, he’d rather die than submit to Rhys.

“You ally yourself and your army with us for the war. Hybern will slaughter your people and take your court as soon as the war is over and you know it. Don’t lead hundreds of innocent lives towards their death because of a grudge you hold towards Rhys.” I continued.

“I’d sooner die than work with him. And you. After all I did for you, traitor.” He spat.

I could feel the anger roll off Rhys. He stepped in front of me but I grabbed his arm.

“After all you did? After Amarantha, I was wasting away. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe. And all you did was lock me up like a caged animal. You couldn’t even look at me longer than a second.” My voice rose.

“Do you know what the first thing Rhys did to me when he took me away on our wedding day?” I didn’t give him the time to respond.

“He looked at me, listened to me, he made me feel alive again. It’s ironic isn’t it? Living in the Spring Court where all bloom to life. Except me. I withered away like a dead rose. But I blossomed with Rhys at the Night Court, the realm of death so many call it, but it breathed life into me again.”

Tamlin stared, blank. “Go to hell.”

With that, I left the Manor and let Rhys have his fun.

We landed in Velaris, my beloved City of Starlight. I was ecstatic and Rhys felt it as we walked up the steps to the town house. Home. The word kept repeating in my head, I still couldn’t believe it.

When we walked in, we were greeted by Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and Amren. They kneeled as we stood in the doorway.

My hand slipped from Rhys’ and I ran towards them, dropping to my knees.

“Please don’t kneel. I just want a hug from each of you.” Tears fell from my eyes. I missed these four with my whole heart. Last I’d seen them, Cassian’s wings had been shattered, Azriel and Mor were bloody and bruised. I was worried sick.

They all hugged me at once, I was squished in between the four of them. I let out a laugh as we withdrew from the group hug and Rhys chuckled behind me.

“You bastards never react that way when I come home.” He walked towards us.

Amren sent daggers at him with her eyes.

“Maybe we don’t like you as much Rhys.” Cassian said.

“Then maybe you can find a place at the Court of Nightmares instead of Velaris, Cas. They’d be happy to take in an invalid such as yourself.” He threw.

Cassian shook his head laughing. “You’d miss me too much.”

The five of them began to bicker, their voices booming throughout the house. My eyes fleeted between them, trying to keep track of who was saying what.

I smiled, It felt like I never left.

#acotar #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction

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hazelfoureyes · 6 hours

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

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

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

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or the wrong person.

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

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

A record Brady could claim.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’d be ideal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said sorry.”

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know who I am?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hush.” You cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that, yeah.”

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

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

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tsk, wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

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

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

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

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enough games.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x you

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makethemhoesmad · 17 hours

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drunk in love

@cjrights horny

paige’s pov

this wasn’t gonna be smut but then the parasites

—

“paige, bro, someone’s knocking on your door like crazy.” ice tells me, reclining her chair.

i hop up off the couch and open the door, hearing the erratic knocking ice had been talking about.

“Paigey! Baby i missed you so fucking much” i can’t believe i forgot to watch my girlfriend’s location until her uber dropped her off. might i add, she looks fucking amazing too, i should have gone with her. that purple, silky dress that i bought for her fits her too damn well.

“yeah, um, i missed you too baby,” i say, noticing as her eyes flicker over my body, and as her thighs squeeze together just slightly. she grabs at my t-shirt, pulling my mouth to hers

“needed you so bad all night paige, then i come home and you have people over” i try to turn around, perfectly willing to kick kk and ice out so i can have time with my girl, but she pulls my chin back to hers. i bring my hands to rest on her hips, partially to steady myself.

“but i think they can stay, alright? i’ll just sit with you on the couch.”

this girl and the things she does to me. i walk back into the living room holding her in front of me by her hips. she waves to the girls, and they wave back, shooting me the “should we leave?” glance. i shrug, and turn my attention back to my girlfriend, who’s trying to pull me on the couch while trying to unfold a blanket.

i bite my lip, looking at the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, and the thin silk strap slipping from her shoulder to her arm.

“WOAH, alright paige, back to what we were talking about, please direct your eyes this way,” kk says, jolting me out of my not child-friendly thoughts.

i plop down onto the couch, pulling my girl with me and draping a blanket over us.

“not the blanket game,” ice says with an eye roll. i return it, then wrap my arms around the girl that has currently turned into a koala bear.

“you comfy down there baby?” i muse, running my hand through the hair at the top of her head. she nods, then rotates her hips against mine, letting me feel that she’s absolutely soaked under that dress. i pull her chin up so she has to face me, eyes looking so hazy and innocent for someone so nasty. i push my forehead against hers, sighing contentedly as she whispers,

“i’m not wearing any panties baby”

“well, ice, we’re leaving now, bye paige, bye paige’s girl, we’re out.”

i grin as they leave, then stand up, making sure we both make it into the bedroom before i hike up her dress and bury my face between her thighs. she moans, but i hardly hear it. i’m too lost in the taste of her fucking perfect pussy, that came home aching for me, and only me. she comes on my tongue quickly.

“you’re so perfect, princess,” i say, pulling her dress up over her head, then removing my own t-shirt.

“nuh uh. off.” she snaps, tugging at my sweatpants and mouthing at my nipple through my bra. she knows just how to get what she wants out of me, and i strip down to nothing, just like her. we curl into the covers, skin to skin, her drunk in love, me drunk on love.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #mutuals💀#cj trauma buddy

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gwsbae · 3 days

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me when i heard THAT voice, saw THOSE green eyes and THAT haircut!!!!!! couldn’t believe my eyes

#SHE’S ALIVE Y’ALL #CAN’T BELIEVE THEY FOOLED ME FOR TEN FREAKING EPISODES #I MISSED HER THROUGHOUT THE SERIES SO BAD #SHE FUCKING SURVIVED THE ATTACK #brooklynn #brooklanders #brooklynn jwcc #jurassic world chaos theory #jwct #jurassic world #chaos theory #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jwcc #camp cretaceous #I LOVE YOU BROOKLYNN #IT WAS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN #that was some dark shit we just went into #they’re so young they don’t deserve all that pain

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delicatebarness · 1 day

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cry baby | chapter eight

Summary: Confessions.

Warning: Mentions of John Walker. Mentions of Cheating.

Word Count: 1848

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A/N: I can't wait for the John Walker parts to be over. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Two weeks had passed since John’s disappearance, and the news reports were all the same, no new leads or theories, it became tedious. Yet, there was a cloud of suspicion lingering over you and The Avengers, simply because the others were known as the ‘tough’ guys in the city, they were associated with trouble whether deservedly or not.

As you settled into your usual seat in the bar, the dim lighting cast shadows that danced across the wooden table, and a warm sense of familiarity washed over you. Your friend's laughter filled the air as you caught up with each other and your lives.

However, the moment of tranquility was shattered as the door swung open, and in strode a woman, a mask of rage and desperation over her features. You noticed her as she scanned the room, her eyes locked on your booth, a shiver sent down your spine as you retreated your gaze over to Bucky.

“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice sharp as she pointed an accusatory finger toward the group, mainly aimed at Steve. “I know you lot had something to do with it.” A tense silence fell over the bar, you exchanged wary glances with your friends. You knew who she was, her face had been plastered all over the news the last two weeks.

Steve was the first of you to respond, with a calm but firm voice. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I think you have the wrong people,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed, her fists were clenched at her sides. “Don’t play dumb with me,” she spat, her voice began to tremble. “You’ve always been into trouble, you can’t expect me to believe any of you are innocent.”

Natasha rose from her place in the booth, her demeanor was composed but unwavering. “We understand that you’re worried, but we genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about,” her voice was steady.

Sam nodded in agreement, “We may have a reputation, but this wasn’t us.” he tried to explain without letting his frustration get the better of him.

You couldn’t shake the unease that ate at you. You knew the truth - John had cheated on this woman with you. Even though you knew you hadn’t slept with him, the guilt of even going on dates with him and kissing him, bubbled up inside you. Your gaze flickered nervously to the floor as you tried to keep your composure.

Her gaze flickered between each one of you, rage and frustration taking over her features. “I won’t rest until I find out what happened to him,” she vowed, determination thickened in her voice as her gaze landed on you. Staying there for a moment longer than they all liked.

Bucky stood, his presence snapping her out of the haze that set her focus on you. “We understand you’re in pain, but coming here to accuse us… won’t bring him back,” he said, his voice calm.

With a final glare, toward you, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving a tense silence behind her. The bar remained quiet for a moment before the chatter resumed. As you and your friends got comfortable in your booth again, the weight of the accusation and your own guilt pressed down heavily on your mind.

The accusation from John’s wife cast a shadow over your gathering, causing the rest of the evening at the bar to become a stark contrast to the usual atmosphere. Although everyone tried to return to their conversation and laughter, the tension was undeniable.

Ever perceptive, Bucky, noticed the worry that clouded your features. He stayed quiet as the night wore on, it wasn’t until the other became engrossed in a conversation that he leaned in closer to you. “Hey,” he said softly, searching your gaze. “You okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” you replied, trying to sound upbeat and casual. He wasn’t convinced, he knew you too well. He noticed the slight tremble of your voice and the glossy coat over your eyes.

“You sure?” he pressed, “You seem more shaken than usual.”

Sighing, you remembered you couldn’t hide your feelings from him. “It’s just… the whole John situation,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t shake the guilt, Bucky. What if someone found out about us?”

His expression softened as his hand reached under the table, resting his hand against your thigh, his thumb brushing against your bare skin. “Hey, listen to me,” he said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He was the one who was married, not you. And, you had no idea about his wife, right?”

You shook your head, confirming his suspicion. “It’s just hard not to feel responsible,” you murmured, glancing around to make sure your other friends weren’t listening.

As Bucky began to respond, Steve interrupted. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” he announced, standing from his chair at the head of the booth, stretching out his back. Everyone murmured in agreement, and soon you dispersed. Each other your friends heading their separate ways. Expect Bucky, as always, he lingered behind, waiting for you as you gathered your things.

“Want a ride home?” the concern was evident in his voice.

You nodded without hesitation, you loved the feeling of the cool night air against your skin, it helped clear your mind.

As you reached your apartment, you turned to Bucky. He smiled warmly before pulling you into a comforting hug. “You know I’m always here for you,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

With a final squeeze, he let you go as he watched you enter your apartment. He waited until he heard the click of the door lock before making his way out of the building.

Once inside, you leaned against the door. Everything from the evening replayed in your mind. You knew you had to try and find a way to move past this, but that was easier said than done.

The next few days at work are blurred from the routine tasks and your colleague's hushed whispers. You tried to remain focused on your job, yet the memory of John’s wife’s confrontation lingered. The office gossip showed no signs of dying down and the sense of dread consumed you every time you heard his name.

One afternoon, as you were packing up for an early finish, your phone buzzed.

Bucky ❤️‍🩹: Bar? Could use some company…

You smiled at his timing, grateful for the attached photo showing both his beer bottle and a cherry cold waiting in front of your usual seat. You send a quick reply, packing up the last of your things and heading to the bar.

The bar was a lot less crowded than it usually is when you arrive. You stopped Bucky already waiting at your booth with the pictured bottle still waiting in front of him. He greeted you with a smile as you slid into the seat opposite him.

“How was your day?” he asked, handing you a straw.

“Same as always,” you replied with a shrug, placing your straw in your cola before taking a sip. “Just trying to keep my head down.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah, it’s been tough with all these rumors flying around.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “I just want it to be over,” you admitted. “I can’t keep worrying about someone finding out.”

His eyes softened with sympathy. “Look, whatever happened, we’ll deal with it,” he assured you. “Anyway, it’s not like you slept with him…”

It took you a moment to think about his choice of words, you couldn’t recall ever telling him if you had slept with John or not. Shaking your head, the thought left your mind. Of course, Bucky knew you never slept with John, no one in this friend group can keep anything to themselves.

Just as you were about to change the subject, the door swung open, and again, in walked John’s wife. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. Marching straight over, her expression was a mixture of determination and desperation.

“You,” she said, pointing a finger in your direction. “We need to talk.”

The bar fell silent, and everyone’s eyes turned to you. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you met her gaze, knowing there was nowhere to run.

Immediately standing up, Bucky positioned himself protectively in front of you. “Look, lady. We’ve already told you,” his tone was firm but calm. “We don’t know anything,”

Her eyes flicked to Bucky, then back at you. “She does,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need answers, now. John was last seen with people like… “She looked Bucky up and down before continuing. “... you. And, now he’s gone.”

You took a deep breath and began to fidget with the sleeves of your cardigan, trying to steady your nerves. “He wasn’t honest with you,” you began, your voice trembling. Bucky looked at you, his expression unreadable. Turning back to John’s wife, you noticed a mix of hope and fear in her eyes as she looked back at you. “I, I didn’t know he was married. I only found out after he disappeared. He… we were dating.”

Her eyes widened, her face draining of color. “What?” she whispered, taking a step back. “You’re saying…?”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat as your eyes began to well. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. If I had known, I never would have agreed to go with him.”

For a moment, she started at you, her emotions were conflicting on her face. Then, she looked down, her shoulders slumping as the reality of your words sank in. “I knew he was hiding someone,” she said softly, mostly to herself. “That doesn’t explain why he started coming home with his face black and blue…” she trailed off.

You noticed Bucky subtly move his hands to his pockets, concealing the marks on his knuckles that seemed like a permanent feature.

“I promise you, we had nothing to do with his disappearance,” you said, your voice shaking as the tears began to spill. “But, you deserved the truth about him.” You felt a pang of guilt knowing the pain that your words had caused.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked back at you, “Thank you, I needed to hear it, even if it hurts,”

With a final moment in silence, she turned and left the bar. She left you and Bucky standing there, the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

Bucky turned to you, his eyes full of empathy as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You did the right thing,” he said softly, pulling you into a tight hug.

The ambient noise of the bar returned as the conversation resumed around you. Sitting back down in the booth, the feeling of your confession set heavy on your shoulders. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, you still felt a sense of doubt.

---

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x cry baby #cry baby series #cry baby #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #biker!bucky #biker au

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casually-eat-my-soul · 2 days

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Follow me on my delusional rant for a second: we all know that stiles was kinda but not really obsessed with the hale fire yes?? What if he just a tiny bit more obsessed with it and less with Lydia. The sheriff turns a blind eye to this because this was the most lively his son had been since his mother died. The sheriff also can’t figure why this case doesn’t feel right to him, but if anyone can figure it out it’s his son.

He goes on a deep dive about the hales. There comes a point where he can’t access anymore information legally; so he goes to Danny to teach him how to hack. This gets Lydia attention but not enough to get her to help, yet.

So stiles learns and he hacks into the school database, the police, and generally every establishment that the hales have frequented. He finds a pattern of suspiciously missed full moons, high grocery bills the next morning. He finds Paige and Kate. He finds a paper trail to the fire.

He shows it to his dad. With this evidence the sheriff looks into the case. This is what causes Lydia to talk to stiles. She pulls up to his house the very next morning the sheriff reopens the case. She liked Cora and would do anything to get the person who killed her. This cause a deeper dive of obsession. Together they look into the supernatural side of beacon hills. They find Lydia’s grandmother, and Lydia is able to understand what she is before it becomes a problem.

I’m a Stiles and Lydia sibling truther. They become that duo. Just over all becoming the pretty twins of beacon hills.

Lydia gets familiar ties to the stilinskis. Something that she doesn’t get at home. The sheriff loves her, absolutely dotes on her. He’s always wanted a daughter. Stiles becomes far more confident and comfortable in his skin. They have spa days and sleepovers. Stiles lets Lydia practice makeup on him. Lydia has her own room at the Stilinski’s, it becomes a safe haven for her.

They both watch over the sheriffs diet like hawks; fast food places are terrified when the sheriff comes in to order food. “No sheriff, I actually can’t give you a double burger because I’m still traumatized from your kids”. Lydia creates a binder of healthy meals, while stiles cooks them. (Lydia cannot cook)

Stiles comforts her when Jackson is being a dick. Stiles becomes frienimes with Jackson. When Jackson swings by the house the sheriff quietly brings out his gun and cleans it in front of him. Lydia pretends to be embarrassed but she’s absolutely glowing. Jackson also become close with the sheriff, especially after him and Lydia break up. (They were gay and lesbian solidarity)

With the amount of digging Stiles and Lydia did they would have figured out Peter was being poisoned. I also believe that they would have found Cora was still alive. This brings Laura and Derek back to beacon hills, starting the rise of the hale pack.

Like imagine season one Derek meeting confident stiles with lipstick. Your honour it’s over for him.

Derek still becomes an alpha after the alpha pack comes and he kills one of them. (I’m also a Alpha Derek hale truther)

Stiles and Lydia are both “little reds”

Derek and Cora being super fucking cocky that they’re mated to the pretty twins of beacon hills

The sheriff also cleans his gun in front of Derek and Cora. He’ll be damned doesn’t get to pull the protective father for his kids.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #stiles and lydia #stiles and Lydia are the best siblings #Lydia x Cora #the stilinski family feels #stiles is major obsessed with Derek #stiles and Lydia act like the fbi for enrichment

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 days

Note

Hiya hiya! Once again congratulations on 500! I was wondering if I could request a fic with Isagi and handholding! Idk hand holding sounds very romantic so I would love to see how you’ll write it!

── PATHWAYS

Synopsis: You go on a walk with your boyfriend while he’s on a break from the intense training of Blue Lock.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.1k

Content Warnings: fluff, isagi is lowkey a simp, slight rin and nagi slander (i love them though i promise)

A/N: EEK i’m sorry this took me a sec anon!! i’ve never written for isagi before so this was def smth new which is why it took me a bit to get in the right headspace. i hope it’s okay for you <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It was colder outside than you had expected. Isagi, who was wearing a coat and had a scarf wrapped around his neck, didn’t seem bothered by the temperature, but as for you, you were miserably trying to hide your shivers, pulling your sweater tighter around yourself to disguise it. He had told you that it was chilly, and you had ignored his warning, so it was now your burden to bear.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Isagi said, white clouds forming in the air from the heat of his breath. “I missed you a lot the entire time I was there.”

“I missed you, too,” you said. “I know we were able to talk a few times on your one friend’s phone, but it wasn’t the same.”

Isagi wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get my own back. I really tried my best. I wanted to talk to you as much as I could, to make up for our physical distance.”

“It’s okay. The fact that you were willing to take care of all of your teammate’s sweaty, gross laundry just to get the chance to call me for a couple of minutes means more to me than anything,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked along the side of the dirt path connecting your house to the nearest park.

“That was definitely a sacrifice,” he said, gagging from just the memory. “I’d do it again for you, but it was really horrible, Y/N. It’s bad enough dealing with my own clothes after matches, but adding Nagi’s to the mix…it was brutal, to say the least.”

“My poor boyfriend,” you said. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s willing to endure so much for me. I must’ve been a really good person in my last life.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “To be honest, I was kind of scared you’d find someone else while I was gone. It would only make sense, right? How could a girl as beautiful as you not have a million other options? It would be pretty easy for you to forget about me and move on.”

“Would you forget about me and move on if the roles were reversed?” you said, your teeth chattering. Isagi’s eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing behind his dark hair.

“No way!” he said, shrugging off his coat and draping it around your shoulders. “I’d never, ever do that. I still can’t believe I’m dating you at all!”

“You’re so goofy,” you said. “Hey, don’t give me this. Won’t you get cold?”

“Nah, I’m tough. What kind of number-one striker gets defeated by some wind?” he said. You hummed appreciatively, zipping up the large jacket and rejoicing in the warmth it instantly provided you with.

“Number-one striker, and the hero of Blue Lock, I’m told,” you said. His cheeks turned pink.

“That, too,” he said.

“It’s all everyone at school talks about. One day, you just randomly disappeared, and no one but me knew where you had gone. Then suddenly, you were on TV, making the winning goal in one of the most exciting matches of soccer any of us had ever seen! I feel like the girlfriend of a celebrity,” you said.

“You should get used to it,” he said. “I’m only going to get better from here. I’ll be a World Cup winner next, and since you’re stuck with me, you’re going to have to deal with everything that that entails.”

“Stuck with you?” you said. He reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly, holding up your interlaced fingers so that he could admire them.

“Do you see your hand?” he said, very seriously.

“I see it,” you said.

“And you see mine?” he continued.

“Mhm,” you said. As always, his were warm, compared to the iciness of your extremities. He liked to joke that it meant the two of you were made for each other, only able to reach the perfect temperature when you were together.

“That’s us,” he said. “We’re going to be like that forever.”

“Goofy and cheesy? What a lethal combination,” you said, shaking your head.

His palm was callused and rough against yours, a proof of how hard he worked. He was always like that, you had noticed even upon first meeting him, always doing the best he could in any given situation, making up for any disadvantages with the sheer force of his will alone. It was nice to have that tangible reminder of who he was pressed against you, so you made no move to let go of his hand even after his little demonstration had concluded.

“I know,” he said. “And my jokes are really bad. But you like that about me, right?”

“I do,” you said. “Your jokes aren’t terrible, though. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“They make you laugh, so I guess they can’t be that bad,” he said. “Although everyone in Blue Lock hated them. One time, my friend Bachira threw a shoe at me for being unfunny, and Rin Itoshi called me a lukewarm NPC for trying to cheer him up with a pun.”

“If anyone is an NPC, it’s him, just for unironically calling someone that,” you said. “They just don’t understand you, Isagi. It’s okay; true art is never appreciated by the masses.”

“That’s right. As long as you’re happy, I don’t mind if they detest me,” he said. You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Should we get sour gummies at the convenience store? It’s been forever since I had some,” he said, his entire face turning red. It was funny — he would declare his love to you in the most cliched of ways and entirely on a whim, but if you ever reciprocated, he would shut down entirely. Like he said, he really still couldn’t believe that you both were actually together, that in fact you had been together for months now, and so he often acted like a little kid with his first crush whenever he was around you.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ve been craving some myself,” you said.

“Okay! Let’s go. I’ll race you!” he said, taking off at a run, though contrary to his challenging words, he pulled you along, careful to keep your hands connected as you giggled and stumbled after him.

You had missed him, so much more than you could ever verbalize. You had spent every day that he was gone thinking about him, his spontaneity, his wide smile and his kindness, the gentle way he always spoke to you, how easily taking care of you came to him.

Running towards the convenience store alongside him, you held onto his hand tightly, as much for balance as because you couldn’t imagine letting go.

#isagi x reader #isagi x y/n #isagi x you #isagi yoichi #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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samgirl98 · 2 days

Text

Mending a Family 38/?

Prev | Next

Jason’s guilt grew as he entered his newly restored Mustang.

He had finished fixing her up that day and had been excited to take his little family around the village.

And he had. He had put Danny in a booster seat and Ellie in a car seat and taken a drive with Jazz in the passenger seat. They made it a family day, ate out, sang out of tune with whatever song came on the radio, and had a good time.

Then, they got home, Danny fell asleep, and Jason started feeling down.

He had no idea why he had bouts of depression, but they were starting to become annoying. Well, they would be if he had the space to feel annoyed.

Jason rubbed his chest. It hurt as if someone was squeezing his heart.

Jason turned on the car and felt the soft purr. He stayed in the car, not daring to move. Why couldn’t he feel happy all the time? Why was he thinking about his old family so much? Every time he felt miserable about his old family, he felt guilty. It felt as if he was betraying his current family.

Jason was so lost in his negative thoughts he didn’t notice Jazz until she entered the passenger side.

“Jazz, what are you doing here? Are the kids alone?”

Jason was about to leave the car when Jazz pulled out a baby monitor.

“I got it covered,” she said, “Besides, nobody can come through our haunt without us knowing.”

Jason said nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” came his automatic response. Jazz raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure, I believe that, big brother.”

Silence reigned for a while. The chirping of the crickets was the only thing that could be heard.

“Am I a bad person for missing them so much? I love you guys, and you are the best things that have ever happened to me, but when I’m alone with my thoughts and emotions, I can’t help—I miss them but feel like I’m betraying what we have. What we found.”

Jason let his head fall on the steering wheel. The ache in his chest grew. He wanted his family to be whole again. Jason could picture it in his mind’s eye. Danny surrounded by the Waynes. Danny being spoiled by his aunts and uncles. By the Ancients, he wanted that. He wanted Danny to have cousins, aunts, and uncles.

Jason wanted his older jackass of a brother. He wanted his grandfather…He wanted his dad.

He wanted his family whole. No, his family was whole already.

What was he thinking? What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he satisfied with the family he had?

“We have a theory,” Jazz said, putting her hand on Jason’s head and giving soft scratches. It felt nice. “Danny and I think your obsession is family. Until you can have every last person you consider family surrounding you, well, you won’t feel complete.”

Jason snorted. It made sense, but Ancients, did his obsession have to be something he couldn’t have?

“So basically, my obsession is unreachable. They’ll never take me back. And if I do return, they’ll try to take Danny away from me. They’ll consider me unstable, too much of a monster to raise a child.”

Jazz said nothing. Jason raised his head and stared at the woman who had become his younger sister. Someone Jason could trust.

“I miss mom and dad sometimes, too,” Jazz whispered, “not for the people they turned out to be, but for who they once were.”

Jazz smiled bittersweetly and turned toward Jason, “Do you think me a bad person for missing them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” was his automatic response.

“Then why don’t you give yourself that same leeway? My parents have done horrible things; they tried to kill Danny! Yet, I still miss them. Family is complicated, Jason. Emotions are even more so. Don’t blame yourself for what you’re feeling, and don’t feel like you’re betraying us because you want what you used to have. We understand.”

“You’re all too good for me.”

Jazz slapped the back of his head. Jason yelped out in surprise.

“And stop thinking you don’t deserve to be happy. You have a family, even if it’s incomplete.”

“No, you guys are enough,” Jason refuted.

Jazz smiled sadly and kissed his cheek.

“I’m going inside. Remember, don’t feel bad for your emotions, Jason. If I’m allowed to miss my old family, so are you.”

Jason said nothing. He watched Jazz enter the house, lost in his thoughts.

How nice it would be to integrate his old family with his new one, but if he tried, he would lose what he had built.

“Suck it up, Todd; you have a great family now. Forget about your old one.”

Jason turned off the car, phased through it, and returned to the house. The ache in his chest still throbbed.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He looked out into the darkness and felt watched. There was no one there. Jason gave one more uneasy look into the forest and went inside.

____

Tim couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

Tim had a facial recognition program running 24/7. After a few weeks of the program running, he had a match.

La Petite Académie would like to thank Peter “Jay” Nightingale for his generous donation to the school. Two benches will be built in his honor.

Tim observed the picture. Jason had dyed his head red and glared at the camera as his picture was taken. He held a plaque with the school’s name, address, and Jason’s alias.

He broke into the school’s files and read about Daniel Nightingale. He had the highest marks in his class and was considered exceptionally smart. Jason had donated fifteen thousand dollars to the school and seemed to be an active participant in school activities. Jazz Nightingale was put in as an emergency contact, and he found phone numbers. Most important, though, was the address listed on the record.

Tim had a lead. His next stop would be Tadoussac, Canada.

I'm so sorry if this wasn't up to my usual standard. I needed to move the plot along. On the plus side, I know how I want the story to go and end. On the downside, I see an end, which means my time with this fic is coming to a close.

Anyway, I hope you liked

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

#dc x dp #dp x dc #mending a family

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altschmerzes · 16 hours

Text

as a treat for @jamiesfootball, an extended sequence of softness and light, taken from far ahead in wriggle up on dry land (the baby jamie au). enjoy, my friend <3

Jamie has been repeatedly assured by both Roy and Sarah that what he is doing is fine and allowed, but even so, the walk up the path to the school building makes him more nervous with every step he takes. He feels like any moment now he’s going to get accosted by a teacher or school official and interrogated about what he’s doing here. Possibly arrested. If it weren’t for the fact that he would rather die than let either of the Kents down, let alone both of them, he would probably chicken out and run or something. But he would rather die and the task does need to be done, and so here’s Jamie, finding a teacher in the courtyard and walking up to her like he has every right to be here.

“Hello,” he says to the woman, doing his best to sound trustworthy and respectable and not like an awkward sixteen-year-old. “I’m Jamie, I’m here to pick up Phoebe Kent?”

There’s only a moment between when Jamie speaks and when the teacher does, but that moment is plenty long enough for a thousand potential responses to cycle through his mind, none of them positive. And then-

“Oh! Right, yes, Jamie,” the teacher on after-school duty says brightly, flipping up a piece of paper on her clipboard. “Yes, Sarah did call about you picking Phoebe up this afternoon, she sent your picture along as well. Come along, I’ll fetch her for you.”

Still not entirely believing that this was all going to work out, Jamie follows her across the pavement.

“Nice of you to look after your cousin like this,” the woman says without turning around, and what sounds like it was intended to be an offhanded, casual comment stops Jamie in his tracks. It takes her a few seconds to notice, and it takes just about as long for Jamie’s brain to catch up with his mouth and produce any sort of coherent response.

“Huh?” Okay so maybe ‘coherent’ was pushing it.

The teacher has stopped as well, turned to look at him with slight confusion on her face. That’s rich, given that she’s the one who’s just said something that didn’t make any sense at all.

“Oh,” she says, “just that when your aunt called and said her brother’s lad was going to be taking Phoebe home on the bus today I wasn’t expecting how young you are. My boy is just a little older than you and I couldn’t get him to babysit my sister’s lass if I tried.”

The gears in Jamie’s head slowly start creaking back to life. The math does itself rather quickly, and before he can say anything else, he hears his name shrieked out and then there’s the sound of thudding light-up trainers on the pavement. Jamie barely has the time to crouch down and open his arms before Phoebe has hurtled straight into him, nearly knocking him off balance.

“You’re getting big then, eh, what do they feed you at school, Phoebs, rocks?” he asks, a little winded from the impact and from what the teacher had said. Your cousin. Your aunt. Her brother’s lad.

“No-o-o,” Phoebe giggles, drawing the word out. She bounces out of Jamie’s arms a moment later, never staying still for more than a few moments at a time. They aren’t separated for long, though. A little hand latches onto Jamie’s almost immediately after Phoebe exits the hug and she starts to swing their interlocked fingers enthusiastically. “Can we go home now please? I’m sure Dauphine has missed me terribly while I’ve been away.”

Looking to the teacher, Jamie waits for further instructions from the adult in charge. It surely can’t be that easy to just show up and take a child from school, name and photo on hand or not. He must have to… well, he doesn’t know, but there’s got to be some kind of test. Some kind of ‘will you get this seven year old home in one piece’ test that he’ll have to undergo.

“Off you pop!” says the after-school duty teacher. She smiles at both of them and gives an exaggerated wave that seems like a bit much even for a kid Phoebe’s age. She’s a bright little gremlin, she doesn’t need to be condescended to.

“Right, okay,” Jamie says, blinking at the teacher even as Phoebe starts tugging him by the hand towards the gate. “Uh, thanks,” he calls over his shoulder, then focuses on not falling over his feet or the kid leading the way. “So, you ever taken the bus before?”

“The bus!” From the tone with which she’s exclaimed it, you would think Jamie had just told Phoebe they would be riding home on a pony made of gold. “Oh I love the bus.”

“That’s the attitude, mini-Kent.” It’s an acutely funny thing for a kiddie her age to say, but Jamie focuses on not laughing. He doesn’t want to discourage her interests or whatever. Nothing feels worse when you’re young than someone older than you laughing at you.

Their hands keep swinging between them, and every so often Phoebe adds a little skip into her gait. It makes the lights in her trainers go wild, little yellow and pink stars flashing against the grey of the pavement. She chatters as they go about her day at school, about how she thinks maths is dull and how she and her new best friend Cierra were going to write a comic book together about their cats being best friends and solving crime. Jamie responds where appropriate, humming and nodding and asking questions. He wants for her to know that she’s being listened to, but he would have to admit that his mind isn’t all focused on the proposed adventures of Dauphine and Prime Minister Socks. Instead, he’s still thinking about that teacher’s voice and the way she’d smiled at him when she’d told him it was nice of him to look after his cousin.

Your aunt. Her brother’s lad. Had Sarah said those words exactly? The teacher surely hadn’t invented them out of thin air. They had to come from someplace, and the thought makes Jamie feel warm inside and a little bit shy. He tries to imagine it, to picture what it would have sounded like. Sarah’s voice saying, My nephew, Jamie, he’ll be picking up Phoebe today. Yeah, he’s my brother’s lad. All the way to the bus stop and up the steps onto the bus he thinks of different ways that it could have gone, in-between responding to Phoebe. All of them feel… They feel good. They feel right.

Sure it’s lying and lying isn’t exactly right, but what’s the harm? It’s one teacher at a school Jamie has never been to before and probably will never go to again, this being a one-off fluke of scheduling and convenience. What does it matter if she thinks he’s Sarah’s nephew? Roy’s… Roy’s lad? So what if Jamie likes the idea of someone out there thinking that, even if it isn’t true?

“You’re smiling.”

The observation comes after what Jamie belatedly realizes has been an extended silence from Phoebe. She’s sitting on the bus seat beside Jamie, legs swinging back and forth and his hand clutched in hers. They’d let go for just a moment while Jamie took care of their fares, and then Phoebe had promptly reclaimed her place hanging onto him, which is encouraging as far as her awareness of travel safety goes.

“Am I?” Jamie asks. He’s sure that his face has turned a lovely shade of red, and he only hopes that at least will pass unnoticed.

“Yes, you are,” she confirms, nodding for emphasis. Then, as if to prove her point, Phoebe lets go of his hand just long enough to poke him in the cheek. “You’ve been smiling all the way to the bus. It’s nice. I think you should smile more. I think everybody should smile more, because smiling means you’re happy, and I think everyone should be happy. Except for Walter Lewis who is a mean, mean boy who chased my friend Stephen with a worm on a stick yesterday, so I think he should be sad, and go and live in tarnation.”

“He should go and live in what?” Anything else he could have asked flies promptly out of Jamie’s brain at that completely incomprehensible conclusion. This could be a matter of her knowing things that he didn’t, which is entirely possible, because geography has never been Jamie’s strongest point, or this is about to be a much funnier interaction. If they get to move off of Jamie’s expression before she could get to asking him why he was smiling, all the better.

“Tarnation,” Phoebe says, pronouncing it very deliberately and primly. “That’s what Mister Ted says all the time. What in tarnation, he says, and so it must be a very bad place, because he does not frown very much and he’s always frowning when he says that. So I think Walter Lewis should go and live in tarnation and not be mean to anyone anymore. And he can be sad forever there.” A frown creases her little face as she thinks very hard on it for a moment. “Actually, no, he doesn’t have to be sad forever. That would be terrible, even for Walter Lewis. He should be sad for a while, though. A very, very long time. Like, maybe even until he’s ten. Or until he learns to stop chasing people with worms.”

The effort with which Jamie is not laughing is nothing short of heroic. He takes a few deep breaths, ensures that nothing is going to slip out, and then he tells her, “That seems like a very fair decision. He can live in tarnation and be sad until he’s ten, or until he learns to stop chasing people with worms.”

“Exactly,” Phoebe responds. She nods, a sharp jerk of her chin and a self-satisfied conviction in her face that makes her look very much like Roy. “I’m glad you understand.” Then, in the flip of a moment, as fast as everything seems to change with children her age, Phoebe has let go of Jamie’s hand so that she can slip both arms around his elbow, hugging close to him and pressing the side of her face into his bicep. “I’m so happy you got to come ride the bus with me today, Jamie. Let’s do this again lots of times, okay?”

Jamie finds it suddenly very hard to speak. His throat feels tight and his eyes prickle with heat and he is not going to cry on this fucking bus and definitely not in front of Phoebe Kent and most certainly not because a seven-year-old asked him to hang out with her again.

Nice of you to look after your cousin like this. Your aunt called and said her brother’s lad was going to be taking Phoebe home on the bus today.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, when he’s glad that an entirely new kind of unwanted sound won’t slip out alongside the words. Lifting his arm, Jamie carefully dislodges her grip and wraps it around her shoulders instead, letting Phoebe cuddle in close to his side, even though her swinging feet kick him in the shin every so often. His other hand keeps a firm grasp on her book bag, and he feels both very young and very grown up all at once. “Yeah, I’d like that, too.”

#gav gab #fic: wriggle up on dry land #writing liveblog #im so. cradles them.

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cheynovak · 2 days

Text

A Night to Remember

Part 6 : Ready, Set... Go

Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: On screen chemistry, sexual tension, unfaithful, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

It's a slower chapter.

Will the world believe that Jensen and Y/N were acting, will the world believe the picture was a publicity stunt? But more importantly, will they?

Or is their tension towards each other, their ‘harmless’ flirting going to burst into flames? How much longer will they be able to keep their professional distance?

Jensen woke up to the harsh Austin sunshine streaming through the blinds, his head pounding and his mouth dry as a desert. He groaned, rubbing his temples as the events of last night slowly began to filter through the fog of his hangover.

He reached for his phone, squinting at the screen. His heart sank as he saw the string of messages he had sent to Y/N.

"Oh, God," he muttered, sitting up quickly and then immediately regretting it as a wave of dizziness hit him. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and opened the messages.

There they were, in all their drunken glory. Confessions of love, longing, and a heart laid bare. He cringed as he read through them, each word a reminder of the feelings he'd been trying to suppress for months.

After her confession that she missed him he had send the last message.

J: Y/N, I don't know what it is about you, but I can't stop thinking about you. I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel.

He could almost hear his slurred speech in the texts, and he closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. He immediately thought of Danneel, he never intended to hurt her. But Y/N... there was something about her that he can’t seem to ignore.

His phone buzzed in his hand, startling him. It was a message from Y/N.

Y/N: Hey, are you okay?

Y/N: You seemed pretty upset last night?

Jensen's heart raced as he typed out a reply.

J: Yeah, I'm okay.

He stared at the screen, waiting for the three dots that indicated she was typing. Instead, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the caller ID and saw Y/N's name. His heart skipped a beat.

With a deep breath, he swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Jensen?" her voice came through the line, soft and concerned. Hearing her voice after nearly a year did something to him. It was like a shock to his system, stirring emotions he'd tried so hard to bury.

"Y/N," he breathed, leaning back against the pillows. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have..."

"Are you really okay?" she interrupted, her voice cutting through his apology. "You don't sound okay."

He closed his eyes, the sound of her voice both comforting and painful. "I'm... I don't know. I feel like I've messed everything up."

There was a pause on the other end. "Jensen, I was worried. I could tell something was off, even through the texts. Talk to me."

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. But the concern in her voice, the genuine care, broke down his defences. "It's been hard, Y/N. Things with Danneel are... complicated. And then there's you.”

"Me?" she echoed, her tone a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Yeah, you. Last night, I said things I shouldn't have, but they were true. I can't stop thinking about you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Finally, she spoke. "Jensen, you can't. You're married. You can't just pretend that doesn't matter."

"I know, I’ve been telling myself I made the right choice" he said, his voice pained. "But seeing your pictures, hearing your voice right now... it makes me wonder if I did... make the right choice."

"Jensen," she sighed, her voice tinged with sadness. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Can we meet? I think we need to talk about this in person."

Y/N was quiet for a second, he could hear her think. "Jensen, I don't know," Y/N said finally, her voice hesitant. "I'm not sure it's a good idea.”

"Please, Y/N," Jensen pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "I know I've made a mess of things, but we need to talk about this face-to-face." "Jensen," she sighed, her tone filled with doubt. "I don't want to get hurt. And I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"I understand," he replied quickly. "I do. But I can't leave things like this. Please, just give me a chance to explain myself properly. We owe it to each other to talk this through, don’t we?"

Another pause. Jensen could almost hear her weighing her options. “I mean,” he continued, “You said in the ride to the airport you were ok, but you lied so, we need to be honest... don’t we?” He closed his eyes, willing her to say yes.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. "But this is just a conversation. Nothing more, no funny business.”

"I promise," he said, relief flooding through him. "Where do we meet?”

"I'm in Dallas, filming a project," Y/N replied. "Can you come to the set?"

Jensen hesitated, his mind racing. There would be a lot of people on set, people who could see them together and start asking questions. The last thing he wanted was to create more complications or rumors.

But the urgency in her voice, the need for this conversation to happen face-to-face, outweighed his concerns. "Jensen?" she prompted gently. "Can you come?"

He took a deep breath, then nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah. When should I be there?"

"How soon can you get here?" she asked. "I can leave now," he said, checking the time. "I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"Okay," she said, relief evident in her voice. "I'll text you the address."

"Thank you, Y/N. I'll see you soon."

After they hung up, Jensen sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but it was necessary. He needed to see her, to explain everything, and to figure out what they were going to do next.

The drive to Dallas was filled with anticipation and nerves. As he approached the set, he felt a mixture of dread and excitement. He parked his car and followed the directions Y/N had texted him, trying to stay inconspicuous.

He spotted her near one of the trailers, looking around as if searching for him. When their eyes met, he felt a jolt of electricity. She smiled, a tentative but genuine smile that made his heart ache.

"Hi stranger," she greeted him softly as he approached. She glanced around, then motioned for him to follow her.

They walked briskly to her trailer, and she opened the door, stepping inside and holding it open for him. Jensen followed her in, shutting the door behind him. The trailer was small but cozy, filled with the trappings of a temporary home away from home.

"How are you doing?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "Since when have you been back on set? I thought you had a break in filming."

She sighed, sitting down on the small couch and motioning for him to take a seat next to her. "I'm doing okay, I guess. I got a call from my agent, couldn’t say no.” He nodded, sitting down beside her. "It must be exiting, being back.”

"It is," she admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, nervous not knowing how to act.

Jensen too felt a knot of nerves tighten in his stomach as he sat beside Y/N, unsure of how to act in the intimate confines of her trailer. She seemed to sense his discomfort and offered him a drink.

"Do you want something to drink? I have water, coffee... maybe something stronger if you need it," she said with a small, nervous laugh.

"Coffee would be great, thanks," he replied, his voice a little strained. She stood up and moved to the small kitchenette, her movements graceful despite the tension between them.

As she waited for the coffee, she glanced back at him. The sight of him sitting there, looking at her with those soft, puppy-like eyes, made her heart flutter. The butterflies in her stomach were almost overwhelming, a mix of excitement and anxiety.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. It was like seeing him for the first time all over again, every feeling she had for him rushing back with a vengeance. His presence filled the small space, and she was acutely aware of every inch between them.

She walked back to the couch, handing him the cup. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, and a spark of electricity shot through her. She sat back down, closer this time, unable to keep the distance that was needed.

"Thanks," he said softly, his eyes locked onto hers.

Her heart raced, and she could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. She tried to focus on the conversation, on the practicalities, but all she could think about was how much she had missed him, how much she still cared.

Jensen took a sip of the coffee, his mind still swirling with emotions. He set the drink down on the small table in front of them and turned to face Y/N fully.

"Why did you decide to answer my texts?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with curiosity. "After all this time, why now?"

Y/N looked down, fidgeting with her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "I couldn't hold back anymore. I guess missed you.”

He watched her, his eyes gentle and full of empathy, "I thought maybe we could be friends," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I hoped that if we could just talk, we could figure out a way to stay in each other's lives without making things worse. “

“But when I got your messages last night... realising maybe that wasn’t the best plan.” She felt her eyes tearing. Unable to look at him, focussing on her hands folded on her lap.

Jensen reached out, taking her hands in his, wiping the tear away. " I want to believe that we can be just friends.” She looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his emotions mirrored in her own. "Can we, Jensen. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not Danneel.”

"I know," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "And I don't want to hurt anyone either. But not having you in my life is clearly not an option.”

She nodded, a small tear slipping down her cheek. He reached out and gently wiped it away, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "We'll be friends, and careful, and we'll be honest. That's all we can do."

Their conversation flowed into a easy going get together.

Jensen asked about her travels mesmerised by her enthusiasm. Listening while she showed him pictures on her phone. But he couldn’t help to glance over at her now and then.

As their conversation drew to an end, Jensen stood up, "I should probably get going," he said softly, reluctant to leave but knowing they both needed time to process everything.

Y/N nodded, her emotions swirling, making it hard to find the right words. As he turned to leave, he surprised her by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her in a warm, unexpected hug. She hesitated for a moment, then melted into his embrace, feeling the strength and comfort of his arms around her.

When they finally pulled back, Y/N looked up at him, her heart racing. She took in the details of his face, so familiar and yet so striking in this intimate moment. The freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, the perfect shade of green in his eyes that seemed to look right into her soul, and his plump lips that had whispered so many secrets to her.

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she hoped he didn't notice. But the way he was looking at her, with a mix of tenderness and longing, made her think he did.

"Take care, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You too, Jensen," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion.

He lingered for a moment, as if wanting to say more, waiting for her to do something, but instead, he gave her a small, reassuring smile and turned to leave. She watched him go, her heart aching and yet filled with a strange sense of hope.

As the door closed behind him, Y/N let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She touched her cheek where his hand had wiped away her tear, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch.

Jensen stood outside Y/N's trailer door, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He couldn't shake the feeling of the warmth of her body against his, the way she had melted into his embrace. And in that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to taste those lips.

He leaned against the trailer, running a hand through his hair as he replayed the scene in his mind. Her soulful eyes, filled with vulnerability and longing, had captured his heart in a way he couldn't explain.

The soft blush on her cheeks and her lips... he could almost feel them against his own, soft and inviting, a perfect match to his own. But he had held back, knowing that would be wrong. They had too much to figure out.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed away from the door and started to walk away. He knew he had to give her space, time to process everything they had talked about. But as he walked, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

In the meantime

Y/N stood alone in her trailer, her heart racing and her mind spinning with thoughts of Jensen.. Every fiber of her being yearned to run after him, to kiss him, to hold him close and never let go.

Her hand trembled as she reached out towards the door, aching to follow him, to tell him everything she was feeling. But she hesitated, knowing that rushing after him wouldn't solve anything.

No, it would only complicate things. But as she stood there, the desire to be with him, to feel his lips against hers, grew stronger with every passing second. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady her breathing, trying to push away the urge.

Finally, she opened her eyes, her resolve faltering. She couldn't ignore the longing in her heart any longer. With a determined sigh, she rushed towards the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet trailer.

When she reached the door, Jensen was already gone, disappearing into the distance. She stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking as she realized she had missed her chance. Tears welled up in her eyes.

It was too late now. Jensen was to far away to follow him, and she was left standing alone, the weight of her regret heavy in her chest. She closed her eyes, silently cursing herself for not taking the leap, for letting fear hold her back from what she truly wanted.

As Y/N stood outside her trailer, watching Jensen disappear into the distance, she couldn't stand watching him walking away, shoulders slumped in defeat, his back turned to her. Every fiber in her screamed at her to run after him but her mind said no.

She still hesitated, torn between the fear of rejection and the overwhelming need to be with him. As she turned back towards her trailer, tears streaming down her cheeks, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye.

She looked up to see Jensen, his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and in that instant, she saw the pain and longing mirrored in his eyes, a reflection of her own.

Jensen started to walk back towards her, his pace shifting from slow to almost running. Her heart leaped in her chest as he reached the steps of her trailer and bounded up them.

His feet still on the last step, standing eye to eye. He cupped her cheek, caressing her skin, whipping away her tears.

Without a word, Jensen leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a passionate, desperate kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other, the weight of their emotions finally finding release in the warmth of their embrace.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Jensen, fingers going through his long hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened, the intensity of their longing pouring into every touch.

As they finally pulled back from their passionate kiss, breathless and trembling, they gazed into each other's eyes, their souls laid bare in the raw intensity of the moment. It was a moment that transcended words.

Before she could say anything, Jensen took another step forward, towering over her. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, all the walls between them crumbled away.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a shaky laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "So much for just being friends," she joked, her voice laced with both humor and emotion.

Jensen chuckled softly, his own eyes shining. "Yeah, I guess we kind of skipped that part," he admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm just grateful to have you in my life, even if it's just as a friend" Y/N said softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Giving him the space to back down if he wanted to.

He tightened his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Me too," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "But I would rather kiss you."

With that, he leaned back in, his lips finding hers once again in a passionate embrace. They stumbled backwards, the door closing behind them with a soft click, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Their kisses grew more urgent, hands roaming over each other's bodies as they lost themselves in the intoxicating rush of desire. But just as things began to escalate, Y/N pulled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Jensen," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion while his lips travelled to her neck. "We need to slow down. I don't want to rush into anything."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I just got carried away, I'm sorry." She smiled up at him, her heart filled with gratitude.

But before they could say anything else, there was a knock on the door, breaking the momentary spell they were under.

"Y/N we're ready for your scene."

She sighed, reluctantly pulling away from Jensen's embrace.

"I guess I need to go back to set," she said, her voice tinged with regret. Jensen nodded, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Call me when your done for today?”

Later that day.

As the day drew to a close and the set began to quiet down, she found herself reaching for her phone, her fingers trembling with anticipation as she dialled Jensen's number.

It rang once, twice, before he picked up, he excuses himself and walked outside to the garden. "Hey," he said softly, his tone filled with warmth. "How was the rest of your day?"

Y/N smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood through her at the sound of his voice. "It was okay," she replied, her voice tinged with excitement. "But it's better now that I'm talking to you."

Jensen chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "I feel the same way," he admitted. "I've been thinking about you all day."

Danneel watched him from inside the cozy warmth of their home, a nagging feeling tugging at her heart. He never walked away when having a phone call.

She watched him pace back and forth, his voice low and hushed as he spoke into the phone. Her brow furrowed with concern as she tried to catch fragments of his conversation, but his words were muffled by the distance between them.

A wave of uncertainty washed over her as she watched him, her mind racing with questions. What was he talking about? Who was he talking to? And why did she feel like he was keeping something from her?

----

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