#AND I IMPULSIVELY CAME UP WITH THIS BULLSHIT

[idontcare4urmom]

𝑊𝐴𝑇𝐶𝐻 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑀𝑂𝑈𝑇𝐻 || Chris sturniolo

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: you make the terrible mistake of quip referring to your ex’s name and behaviour during an argument with your boyfriend Chris,leading to things taking a wild twist when his possessive impulses take over.

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠: yelling and cursing,smut,unprotected and rough sex,clit playing,fingering,orgasming multiple times,pet names,dirty talk,praising,degradation,hair yanking,spanking,overstimulation,etc.

𝑎／𝑛: my first language is not english,sorry for any mistakes.

you heavily huff out a breath out from your nose while standing there,dealing with his yelling and complaining once again.the reasonings of your arguments lately kept getting more and more ridiculous to be honest,yet you weren’t able to prevent them anymore.

“i told you plenty amount of times Chris,it wasn’t my fucking fault that i had to cancel,my mom neede-“

“ugh i am tired of this! always the same bullshit excuse,it’s the third one you are doing this in a month” he shouted out abruptly,instantly regretting it once he observed the way your jaw clenched along with your eyes holding back the bawling.

he was genuinely about to apologize after he softly sighed,reaching out for your shoulder but for you to just snap backwards,he was caught off guard by the action,however it was what you mumbled next that pissed him off frantically.

“fuck off,James would never had treated me that way,he would understand”

oh Chris could sense his blood boil as soon as that sentence came out of your lips,his fists automatically closing into his sides with his pupils taking over a menacing gleam that popped out raw frustration.

he despises nothing more but that man,especially since he was aware of how head over heels you used to be for him a year ago.

disbelief slowly crosses over your features when he somehow answers calmly,a vigorously edge drizzling his voice “watch your mouth pretty girl,we all know that i treat you way better than he did”

your stubbornness inched to deny,to fight back,although an other part of you wanted to play safe,sending him a piercing glare and then staying completely silent,letting the quietness hang over the air until he broke it himself.

“you are not really helping yourself out sweetheart” it was obvious that he was mentally referring at your lack of response,stepping impossible close to you so he can with a light shove launch you on the mattress of your bed,

he immediately hovered above your figure,both of his legs encircling your sides before he began to undress you,making sure to take purposefully brush your skin in whatever chance,and you were more than surprised by the suddenness of his gestures.

“what are you-“

now it was his turn to not reply,greedily discarding to the floor any fabric that covers you up and leaving you in just your thong on,causing you to squirm as air bubbles the peel of your body.about to speak up,he withdrew that opportunity by smashing down his lips to your’s,kissing you with a passionate fever.

the contact was additionally excessive and demanding,making you touch starved as his mouth coated your's blissfully,his palms strolling down on your skin to land on the curve of your ass,gropping it in between his fingers before giving it a firm slap,stumulating a soft gasp from you.

there wasn't any second to protest,him already flipped over on your stomach with him positioned against you from behind.you could sensate the numbness on the fabric of your underwear curating your warm heat while his hand grounded down on your delicate buttocks again and again,only dragging out lewd whimpers for a response.

"aw what's wrong baby? too sensitive to handle this? sould have thought about that earlier" he cooed mockingly,his free index finger polling under your panties,tugging them down and teasing his touch everywhere but on your center that was practically begging for relief.

a muffled sinister snicker escaped him when your hips rolled high,desperately yet silently pulsating for more.

"not so fast baby,now tell me first..was James able to get you like this? all whiney from just a little spanking as if you are a whore in heat?"

his words for some reason only fuelled your desire further,especially from the tone of absolute disgust dripping from his lips at the mention of your past partner.

you managed to only high pitch a “no” that cracked into a moan of ecstasy when he finally started rubbing your drenched bud and clit rhythmically,pinching it at the edge of his curvy digit.

you scratched furiously the surface of the headboard that was tangled within your hands,your head interred on the soft layer of pillow as your boyfriend continued to pleasure you,sending jolts of shivering through your entire body.

his experienced tongue darted to loop at the nape of your neck and collarbone,choking out a strained moan once the roots of your hair were pulled backwards,angling the perfect length of exposed skin “Chris- “mhm,i know baby don’t worry,you can take it”

you shallowed the lump that formed on your throat as he repeatedly draw patterns of bite nibbling on you,his ring and pinky finger inserting around your entrance before unexpectedly slipping inside,coaxing from you a gasp “oh fuck!”

“that’s it baby,have to stretch your out really fast,gotta prepare you for my dick later,okay?” you just nodded,drowning at the nirvana you were receiving while he pumped and curled smoothly his fingertips on your insides,hugging all the right spots perfectly.

you clasped the sheets below you since you felt your upcoming orgasm rising fast,the uncomfortable tight pressure on your lower abdomen causing you to clench around his hand and without a warning erupt into busts of cum that glistened your legs with arousal.

he didn’t wasted any second to haul off his jeans along with his boxers in one movement,wrathfully stroking the overwhelmed bulge of his leaking head while roaming his gaze at the sight in front of him,you being already fucked out,

he aligned himself at your opening,his chest squeezing your spine as he effortlessly and powerfully thrusted in your hole,eliciting a groan from the both of you.still affected for your previous release though,you mumbled a follow of curses “shit Chris,’m sensitive”

“shh baby,you will be fine i promise,you just have to do what you know the best for a few minutes,managing my cock like a good whore” he murmured soothingly yet demandingly,his hips swirling forward in a newfound pace and warmth that made your head spin.

the “few minutes” was totally a lie to say the least,cause after the multiple rounds you couldn’t even count anymore how many times you came undone around his length,your vision blurry with tears dropping down your cheeks.

the only possible hunch you could currently store in your memory was his every vein and muscle pulsing in your sweet spot with no mercy,the noise of skin to skin clapping together with mixed gasps and mewls resonating nonstop.

“t-too much!” you sobbed out once he increased the speed of his pounding at the same time his mouth wrapped around your perky nipple,his teeth gently twisting the flesh.

completely vulnerable and at his mercy,he finally stopped when he decided that you actually had enough,lazily pushing back and forth for a last time before his seed overflowed you entirely like a wave for the fourth(?) time.

the soreness and pain you felt when he pulled out from your pussy was not able to be described,but at the same time,there was no doubt about this being your best ever sex session with him.

and you also were now sure for one “lesson” : to never test Chris’ limits again

——————————————

ehhh i finally ended this i hope you guys like it cause i don’t want to disappoint you 🥹🫶🏻

tags!: @sleepysturniolo @muwapsturniolo @bratty-eliana44 @verywonderlandpolice @2muchofaslvt @sophiaxsblog @cayleeuhithinknot @yourfavg1nger @lianomer @joemamaaa42069 @chrispotatos @bagsbyclair0 @xprakzif @wiidfi0wer33 @zainabthescientist @freakbob15 @cutiepaiquill @buckys-goodgirl @chrisstvrns @fakeesyd

i lowkey wanna make an official taglist but i am scared that no one will want to be on it fr

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[uluvjay]

Fall in love with you- T. Zegras

Trevor Zegras x Best friend! Reader (feat. Quinn Hughes)

Summary: you knew Better than to fall in love with Trevor

Warnings?; angst, self-doubt, crying, asshole Trevor, cursing, Quinn comes to the rescue, this is extremely old and hardly proofread so I apologize for any errors!

Next part

—

You were Trevor’s best friend, your moms were best friends in collage leading to the life long friendship of you two.

You two had always been close even when he moved to Michigan for hockey you never drifted. He begged you to come to Boston with him for collage even though he only stayed a year and your had gotten into your dream school.

It was Trevor how could you say no?

That was a problem of yours never being able to tell him no. He wanted to go to a party even though you hated them? You went, wanted you to stay up late with him despite you having a big test the next day? You did it.

You always blamed it on the fact he was your best friend but everyone besides Trevor knew you were lying, they could all see how in love you were with him they just never brought it up.

The first person to call you out on those feelings was Quinn Hughes. Trevor had invited you to the Hughes lake house two summers ago where he constantly left you and was hardly even home most nights, usually with some random girl he met that day.

There had been an argument between you and Trevor, you blew up on him after he came home from another one night stand telling him if you knew you would be spending more time with the Hughes family and their other friends then him you wouldn’t have come in the first place.

He got offended saying he was allowed to have fun to even though that had nothing to do with what you were saying, after he stormed out of the room you were staying in you made the impulse decision to book a flight back to New York, and get the hell out of there but Quinn had caught you packing.

—-

“Hey you okay we heard you two yell- woah what’re you packing for?” He asked stopping himself mid sentence

“Im going home Quinn, thank you for opening your home to me I really appreciate it and you guys have all been so nice spending time with me while Trevor’s off with random girls every night”

“Wait, why are you leaving though? Did Trevor say something? I’ll go kick his ass right now if he hurt your feelings”

“No he didn’t I-I just can’t do this anymore, he begged me to come and of course I said yes like always just for him to pretty much say fuck me and leave me to be with some random girls who probably took pictures of him sleeping so they can post them an-“

“Your in love with him” he said cutting you off

“What? No Quinn, I’m not” you replied with a defensive laugh

“Don’t lie to me”

“Quinn I’m not”

“Cut the bullshit” he told you more stern shutting the door

“I’m not lying”

“Yes you are, I see the way you look at your phone when he lets you know he won’t be coming back, how you stare at the marks on his neck and back, how you stare daggers into all the girls that talk to him, the way your face lights up when he walks into a room, your in love”

“He can’t know Quinn, it’ll ruin everything” you told him looking down at your hands

“Hey, your secrets safe with me, but you can’t do this to yourself forever kid”

And that’s how You and Quinn also became best friends

—-

Fast forward two years and here you are back at the same Lake house in the same predicament. However over last summer you became good friends with most of the guys including Jamie and Mason who came with from Anaheim.

You Graduated from collage in May and got your degree in interior design, tonight Quinn and Jack were hosting you a small graduation dinner as they wasn’t able to attend your graduation along with some of the other guys.

You were standing in the Kitchen with Cole, Quinn, Jack, Trevor and Jamie who had all just come back from a workout.

“So Y/n you gonna come to Montreal and help me make my house look nice? I need some help decorating my shelves they don’t look good” Cole asked

“You can reach your shelves?” Jack asked causing everyone to laugh

“Shut up asshole” Cole replied

“Yeah Coley I’ll come help but I won’t be needing your stepladder I should be good” you said adding in to the joking

“You know what fuck all of you” he said walking off laughing

“Love you!” You called out laughing as well

“When he murders us all in our sleep I won’t be surprised” Quinn said causing everyone to let out light giggles

“Y/n what color you wearing tonight? I don’t wanna clash” Jack asked you

“You act like you won’t be wearing shorts and a random shirt ” you replied “but probably this white dress I bought a little while ago, I’m finally tan enough to wear it”

“You can’t wear white, the girl I invited is” Trevor blurted out looking at his phone

“Dude what the hell? I told you this was a lake house thing only, only the people staying here are allowed at the dinner, no extra invites” Quinn said getting a little pissed

“Aren’t your parents coming? Along with Luke, some of his friends, and y/n’s one friend? Why can’t my friend come”

“That’s our Family Z, they have a relationship with y/n and she knows Luke’s friends from them hanging around they’re like all madly in love with her” Jack said joining in

“Y/n’s fine with it right?” He said giving you the look he always did when he wanted something from you

“I’m not paying, it’s up to Quinn and Jack they organized the dinner” you said looking away

“Yeah so she’s not coming and if she for some reason does show up, she better not be in white, it’s Y/n’s night” Quinn said ending the conversation and walking out everyone else following besides you and Trevor.

“What the hell was that?” Trevor scoffed

“What?”

“You totally taking Quinn’s side!? Are you in a mood with me or something? Why can’t my friend come”

“Because I’m not paying Z, it’s not something i organized Quinn and Jack did, if I had it up to me we’d being having pizza and sitting around a fire not going to a fancy restaurant.” you told him growing a bit annoyed.

“Whatever” he mumbled stomping off.

—

Four hours later everyone was in a private room at some fancy restaurant in Michigan, in all it had ended up being You, The Hughes family, Cole, Mason, Jamie, Trevor, Dylan and Luca.

Trevor hadn’t spoken to you since earlier in the kitchen and hadn’t gotten off his phone since you guys had gotten to the restaurant.

Jamie and Mason had both said something to him multiple times but it just ended with Trevor giving both of them attitude.

You were talking with Ellen about the new things she had planted in their home garden when Trevor stood up and pocketed his phone walking out of the private room.

“Okay can I ask what the hell his problem is?” Ellen had asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I didn’t let him invite one of his little hookups and he got mad because Y/n took my side instead of giving in” Quinn explained.

“He hasn’t said a word to me since like noon either” Jack added.

“Okay this isn’t about him and let’s not make it about him, tonight is about Y/n and her achievements” Jim said shutting everyone up just in time as the food was being served.

Ten minutes later the door opened back up and in walked Trevor with a blonde girl.

You froze, was he serious right now? For one night he couldn’t listen and not go off and do what he wanted. You looked around and seen Jamie and Cole both rubbing their foreheads and looked next to you at Quinn who had his head titled back, then to your right to your best friend who looked like she was about to murder both Trevor and the blonde girl.

You returned to eating until you heard someone scoff and a chair scoot out, as you looked up you seen Jamie pulling Trevor out the room, leaving the girl in the room.

“And you are?” Ellen asked causing Luke and Jack to both let out slight laughs at how straightforward their mom was.

“Emma” she replied

“Mm” was all Ellen replied, she also knew about your feelings for Trevor

The door opened back up and in walked a pissed off Jamie which was a rare sight to see, and an annoyed Trevor.

“Everyone this is my girlfriend Emma” he announced and it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone looked from them to you.

Did everyone know about your feelings? Were you truly that noticeable when it came to how you acted around Trevor?

“Since when?” Mason asked

“Three months” Emma answered

Everyone just stayed quite, the tension could be cut with a knife and the amount of awkwardness was uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time to head home” you whispered in Quinn’s ear

“Yeah, I’ll go grab the check” he said getting up and walking out

“Where’s he going?” Trevor asked

“To get the Check” you replied

“Already? Is that what you whispered in his ear about? I’m not ready to leave you can’t just decide when we all leave Y/n”

“Well I’m ready to head home Trevor and it was my graduation dinner but you of course found a way to make the night about you” you snapped standing up and leaving.

—

Once everyone got home you went straight to your room and got changed into comfortable clothes, went down stairs, made a drink and went outback.

You were feeling a rollercoaster of emotions, you loved Trevor and he constantly hurt you but honestly it was your fault, you were the one that never told him how you feel how’s he supposed to know you wanna be the one in his bed every night?

You were also angry at him, how dare he pull the shit he did tonight at your graduation dinner of all things. You celebrated multiple achievements of his with him and never once made it about you, it just wasn’t fair.

You didn’t even realize someone had come outside or that you were crying until you heard someone ask you something.

“Huh?” You asked as you came back to your surroundings to see Jack sitting next to you.

“I asked why your crying”

“Oh it’s nothing” you rushed out wiping your tears

“Non of that Bullshit what’s up” he asked

“I love Trevor, no I’m in love with him, have been since I was 17”

“I know” he replied nonchalantly

“What?!”

“It’s not hard to notice y/n, your pretty bad at hiding it” he said with a laugh

“You don’t think he noticed do you..”

“No he’s to stupid” he told you laughing again

“Good, I just don’t know what I’d do if he found out I was in love with him, we’ve been best friends since we were born it would ruin everything.”

“You’re in love with me?” You heard the person that shouldn’t be asking that question ask it.

“Shit” you mumbled closing your eyes

“I’m gonna head back inside” Jack said getting up and patting your shoulder

“I asked you a question Y/n, please tell me you’re talking about someone else you’ve been friends with since kids.”Trevor said

“No it’s you, I love you” you said in a low voice

“What the Fuck” he said with a laugh

“I know, I know I’m sorr-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Y/n! Do you know what this is going to change? Everything! Our whole lives, every moment we’ve ever shared, it’s all different now”

“I know that’s why I never said anything, I knew you wouldn’t feel the same” you mumbled

“Damn right I don’t feel that way”

“Can you not be rude right now?, you listened in on a conversation you had no business hearing and now you know information that just ruined our friendship, I don’t need you being an ass”

“Why? Why me y/n?”

“I don’t know Trevor! I ask myself that every single day, why you, why my best friend? And I don’t have an answer ” you told him.

“You should have known better”

“It not like I wanted to fall for you Trevor, it’s not like I hoped and wished that I’d fall in love with you and ruin a 22 year long friendship.”

“We need space, I need space y/n I don’t know how to feel about this.” he told you

“I’ll find the next flight to New York tomorrow and be gone” you told him walking past him and into the house.

—

As you were laying in bed you heard someone knock on your door, “come in” you said with a hoarse voice from crying

“Hey I just wanted to check in, Jack told me what happened” Quinn said walking in

“It was so bad Quinny” you said breaking down again.

“No, don’t cry, it’ll be okay y/n” he said sitting next to you and rubbing your back

“I’m leaving tomorrow” you told him

“Why?”

“He said he wants space so I’m gonna go home, I think it’s for the better you know getting away from him”

“Don’t go home, let’s go somewhere”

“Where?” You asked with curiosity

“A beach?”

“That sounds nice”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” you said looking up at him with a smile

—-

Next part

[1800-fight-me]

The Wrong Guy

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Rating: M (As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, non explicit sex

Word count: A little over 1k

Synopsis: Both you and Logan fight against the growing feelings for one another as your relationship deepens.

Author’s note: I am so in love with Wolverine my brain stopped working, please accept this humble offering! I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, the words rough and choked out as if he had to force himself to push the vile words past his teeth. 

“Like what?” you breathed out. 

“Like you see your future in my eyes,” he said. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes began to water. 

“Because all I see when I look in yours is a past that broke me completely.” 

You reached your hand across the table and gently laid it atop his own. 

“Logan,” you whispered. 

He shook his head and pulled his hand away. You swore you could hear the sound of your heart cracking. 

“You don’t want this, sweetheart,” he practically growled as he gestured to himself and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince you or himself. 

“I can decide for myself,” you protested. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You deserve better than to be shackled to someone like me,” he said, and now his hazel eyes shone with unshed tears- the same as yours. 

You glared at him, suddenly sick of all his self hatred bullshit. 

“Then why haven’t you told me to fuck off? You certainly have no problem pushing people away.” you snapped. 

“Because I can’t!” he said, voice raised. 

His breaths came hard and heavy and a part of you wanted to only offer him comfort, but your defenses were up from his harsh words. 

“Why?” you asked, voice flat. 

“It hurts to be near you, a constant reminder of my biggest failure, of everything I lost,” he said as he hung his head. 

This time the tears did begin to fall. 

You opened your mouth to speak but he continued. In a broken voice so unlike the powerful wolverine the world knew, he said, “And it hurts worse to be away from you.” 

If honesty was finally on the menu, you decided to say what had been on your mind as well. 

“When I look at you, I see the future I should have had. I see the life that should have been filled with love and the feeling of home rather than constant wandering and heartbreak.” 

He looked up at you and you ignored the impulse to smooth out the worried wrinkle between his brows with your thumb.  

“And that hurts too,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I’m not him, darlin’. I’m sorry you never met the Logan from your world, but I can’t be what you need from me.” 

“And I can’t be her,” you said, referring to the version of you that was once his wife. 

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with pain and regret. 

He was your soulmate, but he wasn’t. A different version of the soulmate you were supposed to meet but never did. 

You were his soulmate, but you weren’t. A different version of the love of his life, his wife, the mother of his child, that was ripped from him violently and mercilessly. 

You were bound but doomed from the start. Both unable to walk away but also unable to stay. 

“Where does that leave us?” you asked in a voice so soft and tentative you didn’t even recognize it as your own. 

He sighed heavily, downed the rest of his whiskey, before he said, “I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

You sighed and stood up, ready to storm out of his apartment. 

“Wait,” he murmured, his large hand catching yours. 

You met his gaze and melted at the affection you saw there. 

You let him tug you back down to the couch, this time your body closer to his, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that the presence and scent of him was intoxicating. 

“Let me kiss you,” he said, voice low in a way that made your toes curl. 

You worried there were unspoken words he wasn’t willing to say, that he was really asking to kiss you one last time. 

This man had just ripped your heart out, but you could never say no to him. You could never deny him anything. 

“Logan,” you whimpered and he reached for your face, wiping your tears away before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so tender you wondered if he was being honest before. You wondered if underneath the hurt that maybe he loved you. 

Your soul belonged to him. 

So you moved your lips in time with him, opening up at his prompting, and a soft whine came from the back of your throat as you tasted him, as your tongue slipped against his. 

A sound- something akin to a growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer, kissed you harder, desperation evident in the way he consumed you. 

“Don’t wanna make you cry, baby,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed his lips across your jaw and throat. 

You whimpered as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he said, and it was less of an order and more of a plea. 

You let him pull you onto his lap and make good on his promise to give you pleasure, the kind only he could provide. 

But the pain still sat heavy in your chest even as he kissed you gently, moved inside you, and helped you reach your peak as he stared into your eyes. 

This wasn’t anything like the other lust driven entanglements you had with Logan. No, this was him making love to you and baring his soul within the process. 

There were tears once again in both your eyes as he brought you over the edge with him. He held you against his sweat glistened chest and you listened to his slowing heartbeat as you traced patterns on his muscled torso. 

“What if we tried?” you asked softly. 

He hummed as his nose ran across your hair, breathing you in. 

“You’re it for me,” he said in agreement. 

You burrowed your face deeper into his chest and he held you tight. 

And when the morning came, you both tried to put the past and the future aside and just be together, to love each other.

You both tried. 

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.

💞 — in which your selflessness makes kalim fall in love all over again.

💞 — kalim al-asim x reader

💞 — warnings: just sweet fluff. mentions of poisoning. me reminding everyone that kalim is not a complete idiot. working on requests soon!

💞 — 757 words.

Kalim was not an idiot. He knew the kind of burden he was to Jamil. Sure, he was bubbly and careless at times, but he was not an idiot. He knew about the target that his wealth put on his back, and while he could be careless about the assignments for Professor Trein, he could not do the same with his life. He still remembered the first time his father sat him down and told him about the kinds of people out there—the ones who would want to hurt him because just a drop of his blood was as priceless as ichor. That night, he had collected a few of his siblings and made them sleep with him, hoping that if slithering snakes came through the windows, he would be able to protect them. Now, he looks down at the plate of food in front of him, his father’s warnings echoing in his ears and filling his lungs unpleasantly. Kalim had taken you out on a date, and he forced Jamil back so that the two of you could have a moment alone, mostly because he wanted the chance to kiss you, and he respected Jamil too much to force him to sit through that.

But shit, did he forget about how Jamil had to be there to taste the food first? Kalim knew he did it because the life of a Viper was deemed more expendable than the life of a member of the Asim family. Still, he would have felt much more comfortable if Jamil could have at least been around to sneak into the kitchen of this restaurant. Kalim Al-Asim was not an idiot. He knew that he was valued more than others. He knew it was unfair. “Kalim?” you asked. The sound of your voice pulled him out of his stupor, and he blinked his round red eyes before smiling. It was that usual bright smile of his, the one that rivaled the bright sparkles the sun would create when glaring down at the ocean, “Are you enjoying yourself?” You just nodded, but then glanced at his plate before backing up into his eyes. You could easily call bullshit when it came to Kalim. He shared everything with you, even the bad stuff that you pried out of him so that he would feel better. You frowned before speaking, “Yeah—is something wrong? Did they put pork in it? I told them not to,” you said, and you were about to stand, but he grabbed your arm. Kalim shook his head. “No, no... It's just—never mind,” he said, sticking his fork into the food and letting go of your arm, “Let’s eat. I still want us to go to that park,” he began to ramble, trying to ignore the shovel which was digging a pit in his stomach. Glancing down at his hand, you sat back down. There was a soft tremble in his fingers, and that was when it hit you. In a sudden burst, you grabbed his hand and shoved his fork into your mouth, biting off the food. You chewed, swallowed, and blushed in embarrassment. That must have made you look impulsive and crazed, “Not poison.” By the sevens, he fell in love again. Part of him wanted to scold you and tell you never to do that again, but another part just wanted to drown you in enough gold to cover the entire desert. For a moment, you did not seem real, and all he could think about was how there was nothing he could give that would ever repay you. When his lip quivered, he bit the inside of his cheek to stop it. “You didn’t need to...” “I wanted to, Kalim.” A pause. Even if he did tell you how risky it was and how he could have lost you if it was poisoned, he knew it would go nowhere. He just nodded in agreement with your words and took a bite out of his food, much less reluctant now. When the silence continued for too long, you pushed your plate towards Kalim and reached your fork over into his. “Taste the sandwich—I think you’ll like it,” you said. Kalim smiled again and picked up your sandwich and bit into it. “Ohm, that's really goof," he said. His words were all muffled by the food in his mouth. You sent him a half-hearted glare before handing him your drink. “Chew and then talk.” Perhaps he should be more worried about choking on his food rather than being poisoned.

[avonne-writes]

Photographer Bucky x Benny Cross Headcanons

The lovely @carnevol came up with the amazing idea to make the photographer documenting the Vandals Bucky. We thought Bucky x Benny would be quite hot together, so here are some headcanons. Benny doesn’t get together with Kathy in this AU.

(some NSFW and spoilers for the movie under the cut)

Benny never talks to Bucky, doesn’t even acknowledge him at first but he lets himself be photographed, including his hands with the rings and the scar. It’s only while developing the photos that Bucky notices the heated, intense way Benny looks at him.

The next time Bucky hangs out with the guys, he stares back. Benny likes that, and he also likes it when Bucky directs his flirty jokes and banter at him. Although his reactions are pretty deadpan or just a faint smirk, Bucky can tell that he enjoys it. The intense staring happens increasingly often.

One night - much like in that Johnny & Benny scene - Bucky draws Benny aside, flirts with him some more under some bullshit excuse, slowly stepping into his space. But when Benny says his name, he doesn’t pull away, he lets his lips brush Benny's cheek.

Benny has some internalized homophobia that makes him freeze for a few seconds, but he quickly overcomes it by reasoning with himself that no one tells him what to do, he’s a rebel, a free spirit who can do whatever he wants.

So, before Bucky could backtrack, he finally turns his head and gives Bucky a biting, intense kiss.

He's not one to hold back. He goes for it with a passion that leaves Bucky reeling.

But just as quickly as it happened, Benny pulls away, gives Bucky an unreadable look and goes back to the others.

Bucky doesn’t know what to expect next, but finding Benny camping on his bike outside his place is certainly not on the list.

But that's what Benny does, and when Bucky lets him in, what he says is "So. You wanna show me the bedroom?"

They have bed-breaking, wall-banging, aggressive sex and share cigarettes and small anecdotes between rounds.

When the sunrise starts creeping painfully through the window, Bucky sees a softer, sad side of Benny. Benny doesn’t try to hide this from him, but when Bucky grabs the camera on the bedside table and takes a photo of him, he tells Bucky never to show that to anyone and his tone is threateningly serious.

Once Bucky swears he won't, Benny lights another cigarette, takes a pull, then gives it to Bucky and goes down on him, just like that. Bucky feels like he’s in heaven, but the heat of it burns like it’s hell.

Benny doesn’t swallow, he spits it out quite openly, but since he makes no fuss about sex in any way, Bucky knows that there's nothing else to it, just Benny's preference. Benny gets up before Bucky could reciprocate and while getting dressed, he asks if Bucky wants to go for a ride.

They go out, each on their own bike, but in the light of that dawn, Bucky feels closer to Benny than ever.

They have to repeat this a few times before Benny actually stays the night and sleeps. Bucky's pretty sure it's only a handful of people who have ever seen the man asleep, so it feels like a privilege.

Bucky falls in love, and he knows it's reciprocated the first time when Benny gets that sad look about him again but doesn’t follow it up with something aggressively sexual or restless. That time, he lets Bucky tell him about the bad moments in Bucky's past, with only this pained, upset silence about him. He never says anything in response, but Bucky can tell that he listens attentively.

They both have obsessive and impulsive traits, so the two together makes for a gunpowder-like combination. If they fight others, they back each other up and can do quite some damage. If they fight each other, paint chips off the walls from the outburst of anger.

Bucky stops hanging out with the club and photographing them because the tension between him and Johnny over Benny gets unbearable. Still, Benny continues to come over to his place. There’s never a regular pattern to it, but he keeps coming back.

Bucky asks him to stay and leave the club (which has been getting worse anyway) if that's what it takes, but that's too much to ask then. They have a few fights about this.

Benny runs away from conflict that cuts too deep into those buried emotions he tries to guard. When he has a huge fight with Bucky and then, like in the movie, tells Johnny he can’t take over the club, he leaves just like in the movie.

But Bucky isn't the type to sit on his ass and let him disappear, so he chases him down.

They both value loyalty high, and also, to be able to count on one another. In addition, Benny has this issue that he thinks removing himself from someone's life is taking a burden away from them. Bucky's unrelenting love and warmth and the fact that Bucky goes after him and doesn’t want him to leave get through Benny's walls, and he finally lets Bucky in.

They reconcile in some shady motel and decide to never go back to Chicago. The shift in Benny's priorities and decision to leave the biker life come from the effect Bucky has on him and not from Johnny’s death. Still, Benny cries when Johnny is killed.

He and Bucky settle down far away from Chicago. Benny works as a mechanic and Bucky as a journalist, and after some time, Bucky manages to persuade Benny to let him put that picture he took of Benny in bed on the nightstand.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Third Drink: A distraction is all he wanted, yet you came in like a bourbon whiskey that gave him a massive hangover. 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - After Hours

wc: 964

genre & warnings: angst, like angst no happy ending, clubbing, drinking, hints of toxic situationship, cursing, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

Jeno stirred in his sheets. The air-conditioning's blow is cold, but he's weirdly feeling hot.. or maybe his head is hot because of annoyance and longing.

He cursed and grabbed his phone on his night stand, glaring at the time and checking your shared location that you forgot to turn off.

It's fucking 2:37 am and you're still up and partying around in some bar.

Oh, he hates it, and he's about to do something about it or else he'll finally lose his sanity for good.

He stands up from his bed, grabbing a nearby hoodie that was hanging in his gaming chair and leaving his apartment without freshening himself up.

He speeds towards the bar you're at, entering it without much problem because let's be for real, he knows the bouncer in these kinds of bars. He puts every last one of his friends and family's experience with the outside world with the amount of clubbing and partying he's done for the past month.

A month without you in his life, and he's regretting it since.

He doesn't know what kind of evil spirit had possessed him when he decided to break your heart. Choosing another girl that only loves him for his money.

Taking you for granted, laughing in your face at how stupid you are for thinking that you have a chance with him. Mocking you for allowing the one night stand and the dates that followed after.

He was the biggest asshole for treating you like shit yet here he is, traversing through the sweaty and disgusting bodies of the party-goers, in a herculean journey of finding you.

His eyes scoured the vicinity of the neon lighted building, looking for your familiar figure that he desperately wants to hold in his arms.

His heart skipped a beat when he had finally spotted you, holed up in the corner of a booth and drinking a cocktail all by yourself.

He immediately trudged in your direction, stiffly standing in front of you and he felt like dying when you made eye contact with him.

You're so fucking gorgeous.

Without his functioning rationality and your impaired brain in a haywire, he impulsively dragged you out of the bar while your whirling mind took a moment to discern what was actually happening.

Snapping out of it, you harshly tug your hand back, glaring at him with storms in your eyes when you realize that you're in the middle of a dimly lit street with him.

The road is something that you have seen before, the way to your former shared house with him.

"Jeno? What the fuck?" you rubbed your wrist, skin slightly red with how tight his hold was on you a while ago.

"Y/N." he calls your name, reaching out for you but you quickly back away, "Y/N please. Let's go home, yeah?"

He's kidding right now, isn't he?

Home is nowhere near him, it once was, but when he carelessly tossed your fragile heart out of the window, he became an asylum that you didn't want to go back to again.

"Leave me alone, will you? Gosh, I-I can't do this with you." you scoffed, blurry eyes due to the alcohol but the fresh early morning breeze somehow cleared your head.

You know that you can't give in to his puppy eyes, you're not weak anymore. You are not the Y/N that he knew.

Jeno frowned, not exactly liking the way you're rejecting him.

"Y/N, don't be stubborn. Please-"

"Save your begging Jeno. You should've done that ages ago when I was naive as fuck. But that won't work now." you cut him off, having enough of his bullshit for today.

You finally had the energy to go out and have fun after a month of grieving over him. Then he appears out of nowhere to ruin your delicately glued self after you worked so hard to put your pieces back together.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, please. Will you hear me out? no alcohol in Jeno's system but it seems like he's the intoxicated one, drunk off of you and he doesn't know what to do with the conflicting emotions he's having.

He took your silence as a cue to continue his mini rant.

"I am well aware that I have been nothing but a foolish dumbass towards you but.. it's hell without you. Please, take me back again. I promise I'll be a better man. I'll take care of you, I'll love you like how you deserve to be loved."

He is basically on his knees and you couldn't help but want to slap his handsome face.

His confession is everything but fake, his words are full of sincerity.

Breathing is difficult without you around. Heck, even doing the mundane things feels like a drag whenever he wakes up in the morning without you by his side.

He did everything to forget you. Drinking all day, spending shit tons of money over useless things. But it was never adequate, nothing is able to compensate for the emptiness he's feeling ever since you left.

He needed you the most in his life.

"Jeno.." you mumbled his name, your lower lip quivering and he almost stumbled his way over to you to comfort you, but your next sentence blew out any hope in his candle.

As much as you love him, you have to choose yourself over anything else.

"I'm sorry Jeno but I can't. I will never ever return to you again. I'll borrow your words from before."

You took a deep breath, turning on your heels so he's now facing your back before ultimately slapping him with the reality he's been denying.

"Why would I settle for anything less when I deserve the best?"

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @mystverse @shakalakaboomboo

[reallyromealone]

Hear me out. Bonten Mikey x omega male reader

A few years after mikey and m/n broke up, mikey discovered that m/n has a 6 year old daughter who looks like a copy of mikey, and mike like connects rhe timeline and realizes m/n was pregnant at the time of their break up but m/n never told him bc he didnt want his kid to be involved in the mafia/gang shit

-🐰 (late birthday gift for me 🥹?)

It's A VERY LATE FIC I'M SO SORRY

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(Name) smiled as he put his little pups hair in pigtails, her bangs/fringe pinned back with a cute bubble hair band, today they were visiting Draken and Inui and little (daughters name) wanted to dress her best for her favorite uncles--- don't tell the others.

(Daughters name) was (name)s world, the sweetest little pup in the world who was absolutely precious.

Though sometimes it hurt to look at her, she was literally a spitting image of her father-- (name) never realized how feminine Mikey looked till his pup came into the world, but he loved her so much. She was the kindest and most selfless little thing ever. It wasn't the easiest at times but with the support of his friends he managed. Just starting first grade, (name) was thankful to work at the bike shop and being able to collect his little sunshine.

"Don't forget the cookies papa!" (Daughters name) said excitedly as left for their visit, without a care in the world.

Many would ask "where's the sire" upon learning (name) was a single parent, the question annoying and invasive but (name) always lied and made up an excuse about the father being overseas and such.

He refused to let anyone know about the actual reason, that being (daughters name)a father was the most dangerous man in Tokyo, (name) was thankful as much as he was hurt that Mikey dumped him.

He refused to let anyone go through what he did with Kanto Manji Gang.

With what Mikey was quickly becoming.

It was sheer /fucking/ chance that Mikey was waiting for the light to change in his limo as (name) stood at the cross walk holding hands with--

Holy s h i t.

"...boss are you seeing what we're seeing" Kakucho and Sanzu stared in Shellshock as they looked at a tiny Mikey with pigtails and a little dress, all of them doing the mental math and coming to a quick realization that holy fuck (name) was pregnant.

He was pregnant that day, oh my god that's what he wanted to talk to Mikey about!

"What are your thoughts on kids?" (Name) asked awkardly as they ate dinner, Mikey surpisingly home for once to do so "annoying, would get in the way" the blond said simply "a liability"

(Name) forced himself not to place his hand on his stomach, anxiety riddling his body "I see..."

"Why?"

"Just curious"

Mikey was always so disinterested in (name) these days, (name) always suspected that he was cheating, never saying anything though.

(Name) wanted to just scream.

Mikey remembered that night.

It was the night Mikey dumped him, a rash decision on his end and during one of his dark impulse moments.

He immediately regretted it after, the pained look on (name)s face and they hadn't seen each other since.

(Name) had many expectations of life, but seeing his ex sitting on his couch after he put his pup to bed, noticing the other Bonten men guarding the apartment "the fuck are you doing here" Mikey expected (name)a hostility and glanced up "that's my kid"

"What do you want Mikey" (name) wasn't having any conversation, he wanted to know what the hell he was doing here "I want to meet my kid"

"And get involved in your bullshit? Absolutely not! "Babies are a liability" remember that Mikey?" He hissed out and Mikey sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be easy "I deserve to meet her"

"You lost that chance when you broke up with me, I'm not letting my daughter deal with your shit, Mikey you're /dangerous/! She's six and I don't want her to ever go through what I went through!"

"I can keep you both safe!"

"YOU COULDN'T EVEN KEEP ME SAFE!" (name) was crying at this point, so angry at his once beloveds audacity"I kept her away for a reason Mikey, you are dangerous! She gets to play with her friends and have sleep overs! Has sleep overs at the friends you left behind! She gets to have a childhood that isn't currupted!"

"Why can't you let her have that?" (Name)s voice was broken and his body shaking, he would sacrifice everything for his daughter and at this moment he would stand his ground.

Bonten would poison her.

"Can...can I just please /know/ my daughter"

(Name) was tired, he was tired of it all "if you can /promise/ me that nothing will happen to her, I will let you meet her but one slip up Sano and I will never let you see her again"

[kookslastbutton]

Sidelines ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Best friends since university, Yoongi has always been the first one rushing to your side. But when you fall into his arms after, yet again, another heartbreak, Yoongi reaches his breaking point.

Pairing: best friend!yoongi x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends2lovers, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: cursing, impulsive confession, sexual content, also reader's true feelings are left a bit open ended

Sexual warnings: dom!Yoongi, slight brat!sub!reader, unprotected sex (don't follow thier lead!), begging, spanking, penetration, f*ngering, cunn*lingus, t*t play, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (princess), slight degradation (b*tch)

Now playing: Love The Way You Lie, Infinity, Escapism+

A/N: Had this idea for a while so when I tell you I sprinted through this oneshot, I SPRINTED. It may be a bit melodramatic and short. Enjoy! 💞

Yoongi stares at his phone–waiting.

Waiting for your name to pop on the screen.

Waiting for your shaky voice to ring through the phone, asking to come over.

Waiting for you to throw yourself into him in desperation to be held.

It should happen anytime now. Why haven’t you called yet? He’s thinking about making the first move but no. That would look too suspicious.

"Dude, you gotta tell her.” Namjoon looks at his friend with deep compassion. He’s known Yoongi since college. Knows the type of heart he carries in his chest. It’s beautifully devoted, warm, and open. But this time…this time it’s too much.

"It's not my place Joon,” Yoongi rasps. “I made a promise.

Yoongi thinks back to the day he met you. It was a cool autumn morning and you were poking around every brick building, nearly walking in circles. It was clear you were searching for something. Turns out it was the dining hall, which was no easy task to find with the campus being the size it was. You were a transfer student and being a recent transfer himself, Yoongi gladly walked you over. That became the first of many memories you’d share together.

Late study nights where you’d fall asleep on his shoulder. Stealing his sweatshirt with a devious yet playful smile. Always having not one pack of gum, but three in your bag. You loved gum for some odd reason. By senior year, Yoongi missed those days most and he wanted more than anything to tell you that a peice of himself was with you. How could he tell you though when you had begun spending every night with the captain of the hockey team? No, he wasn’t going to get in the way.

But he really should have. Heartbreak number one came when you found out your lovely hockey boyfriend had his tongue down some chick’s throat at a frat party. You’re kicking yourself for ever bawling your eyes over that jerk. Perhaps more pressing however is that Yoongi knew your boyfriend wasn’t a great guy. He even tried dropping hints that you ought to be careful with him but you didn’t listen. Despite everything, Yoongi was still the first to show up beside you that day. You won’t forget it.

Now four years out of university, you have a new man of the year who is, for the first time, genuine. Or at least that’s what you think. Yoongi knows otherwise. Just the other day he overheard said boyfriend planning to break up with you. When Yoongi stepped out to confront him, your boyfriend begged that he be the one to tell you. Yoongi promised he wouldn’t say anything which is what brings him to this very moment now.

"You can't keep doing this,” Namjoon urges. “Being her saving grace, her constant shoulder to cry on. It's not fair especially when–”

"She's my friend. I'd do it for you too."

“Bullshit. You’re still in love with her and she doesn’t even think twice about it. She still thinks of you as her older brother.”

“So let her think of me that way. A friend, an older brother…I can't turn my back on her after all this time. I won't."

“All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her.”

The truth in Namjoon’s words stings, pricks like thorns. Yoongi wishes they didn’t but the tensing of his muscles and the heat steadily climbing the back of his neck were clear signs that he couldn't repulse them.

“It’s too late for–__!”

Yoongi's eyes instantly gravitate to his cell vibrating against the coffee table. He snatches it in seconds, bringing it to his ear.

“Yoongi! I–he….Yoongi he ended it with me," you say, voice cracking. Though not in front of him, Yoongi could see the tears trickling down your cheeks. He could feel the sunkenness deep in your heart. He shared this pain with you many times before and it burned stronger each time. "I'm shocked. I didn’t think…I’m sorry I’m having trouble thinking and–and speaking. Yoongi, please, please can I come over? Or can you come here? I know it's late but I just really need to be with someone right now.”

Yoongi turns his gaze to Namjoon who mouths the words 'don't' but he can't bring himself to agree. It goes against his nature and his devotion to you. Maybe his friend is right and you'll only ever see him platonically. One thing's for sure though–he can't lose you.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay there." Yoongi grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and bolts out the door.

"That jerk!" You splash cold water on your face, hoping it will clear your mascara-smudged face. Yoongi was about to come over and you looked like an absolute wreck. He couldn't see you like this again.

Quickly, you rush to your dresser and pull out a less wrinkled t-shirt and lounge pants. You head downstairs next to tidy up the space. You may or may not have had a tiny outrage after your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, told you he was leaving you. Yoongi couldn't see that either.

While cleaning your eyes prick with tears again. It hadn't registered to you now but there were reminders of your ex everywhere. Little gifts he'd given you. Pictures of the two of you on random excursions. How could he do this to you? You harden your face and stomp to the kitchen, searching for something big and black.

You start tossing everything in the garbage bag. Pictures, cards, trinkets, stuffed animals–it all went. And it felt good. It dried your tears. As you make your way around the room, you're suddenly stopped in your purge. A small smile breaks on your face when you see the gift Yoongi got you for graduation. It was a double picture frame with a vibrant orange leaf sealed inside. One photo was of you and Yoongi the first year you'd met. The other was the two of you on graduation day. Yoongi put this together to commemorate your friendship. He's still your day one, you sigh. Four years and he's still here to help you pick up the pieces.

"___!"

Thumpthumpthump

"It's me, open the door," Yoongi gruffs from the hallway. You drop the garbage bag and immediately stride over. You pat yourself down before letting him in.

"Yoongi, hi."

Yoongi takes your invitation and paces inside. "Bit of spring cleaning __?" Of course the garbage bag is the first thing he sees. You fiddle with your hands unsure what to say. "I'm sorry ___. He didn't deserve you."

You bury your face in his shoulder, biting back the growing temptation to cry. Yoongi brings you into a closer embrace. His arms hold firmly around your own shoulders. "Thank you for coming. I know it's late so I understand if you can't stay long."

"I'm here as long as you need." Yoongi pauses, recalling your brief conversation earlier on the phone. "You know you can cry around me ___."

"I'm f–"

"Fine?" Yoongi loosens his grip to look at you. "The clothes, the dried tears, the giant garbage bag in the living room? Needing someone to be here because you don't want to be alone tonight. What part is fine? Because I'm not. Neither are you." His thumb gently strokes your shoulders, soothing your tensed muscles. "So if you need to cry, yell, whatever. Do it."

Wetness caresses your cheeks again and this time you don't wipe them away. "Why does this keep happening?" Your voice cracks as you peer into your best friend's eyes. "They never love me. No one ever does."

His dark eyes soften and you nearly see them glass over through your own tear-filled eyes. You search Yoongi's face for a response but all Yoongi can hear is the echo of Namjoon's words – "All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her".

Yoongi is silent for a moment, mauling over what his friend said. You see him hesitating for the first time in a while. "So–so why do you choose them?" He chokes.

You're a little stunned. This isn't how this usually goes. If you didn't know any better you'd think there was an accusatory tone in your best friend's question. It's unnatural and you're slow to reply.

"Because..."

Yoongi stands still, concentrated on you.

"I don't know. Because they seem kind? And I want to give them a chance."

That's it? Yoongi isn't sure he's hearing you right. Surely there would be more to it. He expected so. Before he's able to retract the words they're already out. "Then what am I? I've never had a chance."

Reflexively, you push away from him. No. No this isn't happening. You must have misheard. "What do you mean?"

"From someone, I mean. No one ever given me the chance to be with them like that so you're very...uh very open." Lies. You're lying again, Yoongi thinks. But look how she broke away from you?

"Oh, I thought you meant...."

You know what? Screw it. Namjoon's right–"You're not turning your back on her by being honest".

"I did." He clenches his fists. "I meant it exactly how you interpret it. I–I love you. And if it isn't love it's damn close."

Your heart drops, mind scatters in twisted directions. You've heard of friends growing feelings for each other before but you never thought–why now? After four years of being next to each other and going out with all those guys. Why didn't he say anything? And when did it happen? Did he always feel this way? Oh my god.

"Sorry, I panicked," Yoongi continues. "But those guys you go out with? They don't care about you like I do. Every time they hurt you it makes me want to scream 'I'm here if you see us as anything more'. But I'm terrified to lose you ___. That's why I kept it to myself."

"Yoongi I–I don't know if..." You stop seeing his heavy eyes. You don't want to break his heart but you can't tell what you're feeling. You never took the time to think of him in these terms. But one thing was for sure. You walk up to Yoongi and take hold of his hand. "You'll never lose me. Do you hear me? You're my best friend and I could never let you go."

"But did you hear me?" Yoongi squeezes your hand. "I love you ___. I don't expect it to be reciprocated so...."

"We can try." Without thinking you close the distance between your best friend. You move to press a soft kiss to his lips but Yoongi lunges backwards.

"Please don't," he says. "You don't need to force yourself ___. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't supposed to be about me tonight, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. This is about us now, our friendship. I'm glad you told me and to be honest, I'm not saying no. I'm saying we can try."

Yoongi sighs and leans on the back of your couch, arms crossed and eyes downward. "You just got out of a relationship ___."

"Yeah so? We were only together for a few months. I don't even think I loved him."

"But you could have with more time."

You join Yoongi next to the couch. "I mean sure maybe if he didn't break up with me."

"___. Don't you see?" Yoongi turns his face towards yours. "We've had four years together. I don't want you to try to love me, I want you to love me naturally. Like I do. And if, after four years you don't then I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

"You're not pressuring me to do anything. You've always been there for me through everything and i care very deeply for you. Maybe I haven't thought of you as more than a friend because I didn't let myself to. Maybe I was too caught up in everyone else that I just..." You pause, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"What if we try and nothing changes? Or something happens and we break each other," Yoongi interrupts. "We'll never recover."

"Do you have that little faith in us?" You place a hand on his other shoulder, turning his whole body around. "Because I don't. Perhaps you're right that something might happen that makes things complicated. But I know we won't let it get out of hand. In fact, something beautiful might come out of this. Don't you want to find out?"

He does. Of course, he does. But was this how you really felt? "You were really upset earlier," he says. "I don't want to cloud your judgment, especially after what happened."

You lean into him closer, lips hovering over his. "I don't care about that anymore. All I care about is my best friend and I really, really want to give this a chance."

Yoongi searches for any hesitation. It's hard to do when you're mere inches from him. He's tempted to lean forward and close the distance completely– to say yes. So you do it for him.

You weave your hands through Yoongi's silky dark hair and press a firm kiss to his lips. He's disoriented at first but like a tidal wave, everything he's been holding back rushes out as he moves harder against you. You feel his hands travel down to the small of your back and snake around your waist. A tongue finds its way inside your mouth next. It dances with yours in a fiery passion. Your body burns up with every touch, every kiss. It's a foreign feeling but you welcome it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yoongi murmurs.

You give a faint smile and take his hand. "There's no one I'd rather do this with." You guide him down the hall and into your bedroom. Yoongi pulls you into another kiss, this time resting a pair of cool hands underneath the fabric of your t-shirt. You moan softly into the kiss and pull the t-shirt over your head.

"I'd tell you that you look beautiful but you already know that." Yoongi traces up your sides and along the band of your bra. It tickles for a moment but then you remember who you're with, where you are, and what you're doing.

"Not so fast," you pull back from his grasp and eye his covered chest. Yoongi picks up on your signal and rids himself of his shirt, revealing his smooth, tan torso. You've seen him shirtless before but when did he get so muscular?

With lust-blown eyes, you're pushed on your back next, sinking into your mattress. Yoongi hovers above you. A light peck is placed on your collarbone before moving to the valley between your neck and shoulder.

"Yoongi."

"Mm?"

"How long have you loved me?" Yoongi open-mouth kisses the ridge of your neck. You close your eyes, anticipating his response. "When did you know?"

"Last year of university when you started going out with that jackass on the hockey team." Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and looks at you. "What did you ever see in him? I thought you said you give the kind ones chances, not asses like him."

You nibble on your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck playfully. "Oh no, him? He was just hot. I wasn't really thinking very much when we got involved...if you know what I mean?" You raise an eyebrow but yelp when Yoongi digs his hands behind you to unhook your bra. He snaps the lacy fabric off the rest of your body and throws it on the ground.

"Yeah?" Yoongi gruffs. Well, who's little bitch are now? Answer me." He gives your left nipple a tug. You feel a wetness gather between your legs but it wasn't from the stimulation of your nipple. It was his tone, his demeanor. Yoongi never talked like this and it made all the hairs on your body stand.

"Are you–jealous?"

"Wrong answer princess." Yoongi pinches your nipple again. "I'll ask you again, who's bitch are you?"

"No ones." You flip the man over and straddle his waist. "Who's bitch are you?"

Yoongi growls and gives you a hard slap on your ass. When you let out a moan, the man underneath goes feral–riveting with desire. You're thrown on your back again with legs spread apart. Yoongi waits for your nod before yanking your pants off, along with your panties. He does the same to himself, cock hardening in your view. Fuck, you curse to yourself. You had no idea what he was packing until now.

Yoongi settles between your thighs and stares you dead straight in the eye. "We're gonna have a little competition princess. I'm gonna eat you out and if you finish without begging to have my cock then I'll be your bitch. Deal?"

You swallow hard and nod. Who knew your best friend was this nasty. "Deal," you reply, widening your legs. Yoongi smirks and runs a cool finger along your slit. You feel the pit of your core tighten upon contact but keep a straight face. "I thought you were eating me–fuck!"

Yoongi pushes in, breaching your walls as far as he could with his finger. He adds a second in after two pumps, focusing on your reaction. "There's something you should know ___." He begins circling his thumb on your clit, causing your head to throw back in the process. "I don't like brats. So if this was any other time, I'd probably already be fucking your tight, wet pussy. But it's our first time together." Yoongi retracts his fingers instantly, soaked with your cum. "I'll go easy on you."

"Shit." You claw at the sheets. Yoongi licks a long stripe up your folds, dipping between ever so often just to see your hips jolt. His hands dig into your inner thighs, driving your senses wild. "Ah! Yoongi!"

"Need to come princess?"

You struggle to reply, bringing a hand up to latch on his hair. "I–ah–I'm not even close-close yet!"

Hearing your response, Yoongi thrusts his fingers back in, creating a steady rhythm with his tongue. "Fuckfuckfuck!" you curse, knot twisting inside you. You feel Yoongi smirk that same cocky smirk from earlier as he continues eating you out. "Yoongi, I'm close now!"

"Are you? Beg for my cock and I'll let you come."

What the actual fuck? "You're such-ah-a cheater! Well I'm not gonna–fuck! Please, please I need to come."

No response.

"Okay...okayokay. Please, Yoongi, can I have your cock?" You immediately come, tightening your hold on his hair. "Oh my god Yoongi, you're so evil fuck!" You give him a slap on the chest once you release. Yoongi grins down at you and catches your wrist.

"Who's bitch are you?" Slowly, he crawls further up your body, pinning your arm above your head. He grabs your other arm and places it on top of the other. "Are you really not gonna say it?"

"Yours. I'm yours, Yoongi."

"Damn straight you are. Now keep them there." He squeezes your wrists together before placing his hands on either side of your head. He bends down and gives you a passionate kiss. "You really are beautiful ___. Are you still sure you wanna do this?"

"Please."

Yoongi caresses your check, aligns himself with your entrance, and pushes in. Your mouth falls wide, but nothing comes out for a moment. Once you adjust, you give a slight nod.

"Fuck." Yoongi moves inside you, penetrating through your velvety walls. Your eyes roll upwards as his close shut. "Oh god, Yoongi–faster please," you breathe.

Yoongi pushes deeper in you, his length pulling in and out of your hole at a rhythmic pace. Beads of sweat form along his forehead and your around your neck. You let out a loud moan once feeling the cord within you wind up again. Yoongi soon feels it too, quickening his speed.

"I can't believe we're doing this-ah shit!"

Your hands, struggling to stay down, jolt with every thrust. You look deep into Yoongi's eyes, his staring straight back into yours. You're both grinning too, like idiots really. "Me neither. But I'm glad we are."

Yoongi kisses you again. It's sloppier than before but you couldn't care less. "You're gonna come soon mm? Because I know I am. This pussy is so tight-fuck-it's basically swallowing my cock. Brat like you love this shit don't you?"

You laugh and rustle through his hair but your arm is pinned back down. Yoongi starts moving inside you as fast and hard as he can, breasts bouncing against his muscular chest. He so close and so are you. "Asked you a question princess."

Your back arches as he fucks into you. "Yes-yes we do! Fuck, I'm gonna come. If it doesn't happen now it'll–"

"Come for me __." Yoongi pushes himself into you one last time before both of you finish, gasping for breath. You feel his length pull out of you shortly after.

Side by side now, hot and sweaty, Yoongi looks at you. "What the fuck did we just do?"

You grin and leap on part of his chest. "We're giving us a chance."

"By starting with sex?" Yoongi throws an arm around you. "Let's do this properly and go on a date tomorrow."

You giggle and bury your head in his shoulder. Goof. Maybe, this does have a real chance of working out. "Okay," you whisper.

A/N: Thanks for stopping by! As always, lmk your thoughts. See ya! 💞

Masterlist

© kookslastbutton

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 13

Second one for today! Again, I will be being out two chapters a week until it is fully posted.

The Grammy's!!! Steve has a rough time of it with his recent coming out as Eddie's boyfriend. Some people are just that vile.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

****

Steve was pressed up against Eddie’s side, Eddie’s arm was wrapped around him, his fingers nervously playing with Steve’s earring as they politely laughed through the comedian’s opening monologue. They were forced to smile when a joke was made about them. All the while the entire table was seething.

Finally the jackass got off the stage and the real show began.

They sat through all the technical awards and clapped at the appropriate places.

They sat through the country, rap, R&B, and pop awards. Finally it was time for Best Metal Album.

Steve grimaced through the painful “banter” between the pop princess and the nearly dead former rocker who was hitting on her.

Finally they got through the nominees.

“And the award goes to....” the pop princess said, drawing it out for dramatic effect.

“Corroded Coffin!” the aging rocker shouted into the microphone.

Suddenly their whole table was on their feet screaming and cheering and crying.

Eddie gave Steve a quick kiss before the band got up and thanked the appropriate people.

Eddie was last. “Thanks to my Uncle Wayne without whom I would be alive. And to my new good luck charm and love of my life, Steve Harrington. Love you, baby!”

Steve smiled and mouthed “I love you too!”

And then the seat fillers came. A couple of them were knothead alphas who tussled briefly for who was going to sit down next to Steve. Steve shared a glance with Elinor, Gareth’s escort date. They both rolled their eyes.

The alpha who lost went to go sit next to Elinor while Steve was forced to endure this thug in a tux.

“Escorts like you are so frigid,” he sneered. “I was surprised to see that you were actually dating Eddie Munson.” He leaned in close and Steve could smell his breath. “But I guess whores like you tend to go for rockers and A-list actors.”

“There’s always a caveat to everything,” Steve hissed. “Nothing is as black and white as you’re making it out to be.”

The alpha laughed. It was loud and abrasive. “A whore is a whore no matter how tarted up they look.”

Steve leaned back out of his space. “Well, I get the last laugh asshole.”

The alpha frowned but then Troy, Xander, and two very beefy looking security were hauling him to his feet.

He yelped but didn’t struggle when he saw how outnumbered he was. He spat Steve’s direction, but the spittle didn’t even make it past the guy’s lips, making him look deranged.

The seat next to Steve was suddenly filled by a lovely beta woman who gushed about his dress.

Apparently she was a fan omega designers because they had a unique take on what it meant to be feminine.

Steve ended up giving her the name and number of the designer and she went away chirping happily.

Then Eddie was back and it was fucking relief.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured gently when he got settled in.

Steve smiled up at him. “Nothing my hot shot team couldn’t handle. But I’m all better now that you’re here.”

Eddie hummed, barely keeping his annoyance in check. But he had to force down his impulse to hunt down that alpha and rip his stomach out through his throat. Steve had been on the receiving end of worse bullshit than this, he had no doubt.

He must have been scenting his rage pretty strongly because Steve was rubbing his nose along his gland and murmuring what a good alpha he was.

But the band wasn’t in their seats for long as they were up next to perform their hit single “Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven”. Steve sighed at his loss but thankfully the next seat filler was stately looking gentleman who had been to fifty of these events as a seat filler. He loved the free food and even though they weren’t allowed to drink, they got sent home with a nice bottle of wine at the end of the night to make up for it.

If Steve hadn’t been excited to see Corroded Coffin play, he would have spent the whole time talking to the dear fellow.

Between him and the beta woman, Steve was able to relax again.

The song was okay, but the way they put their heart and soul into their playing, Steve could see why they were so popular.

Sadly the song was over and so was Steve’s time with the gentleman. Whom Steve was happy to tell Eddie all about.

Eddie smiled that sweet dimpled smile and kissed Steve cheek. “He sounds wonderful, Stevie.”

If Corroded Coffin won the next two awards, they would be backstage until the end of the show.

So Steve decided to soak up as much attention from Eddie as he could. He giggled a little when Eddie when right back to rubbing Steve’s earring.

“It’s my good luck charm now, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Not gonna be able to stop.”

Steve kissed Eddie deeply. “And I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Musicians, actors, and athletes were all superstitious by nature and he had been taught to lean into that regardless of what his beliefs on the matter actually were.

Besides Steve got it. Win a game three times in a row wearing the same pair of socks? Those are lucky now.

So if Eddie thought rubbing Steve’s earring was lucky, then he would let him continue.

Then it was time for the Song of the Year.

And at least this time the presenters didn’t try to make horrible small talk before they announced the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

“‘Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven’ by Corroded Coffin!” they shouted into the microphone.

The band was losing their collective shit.

Eddie picked Steve up and spun him around. “We won!”

“Sure did, love,” Steve murmured. “Now go up and get it, you beast!”

Eddie spun him around again and then ran up after his bandmates.

“This is the one we never expected to win,” Eddie said into the mic, tearing up. “There were too many great songs nominated. But this is an absolute honor. This one is for you, mama!” He kissed his lips and blew it to the sky.

He stepped away from the mic to let Jeff and the producer to give their thanks.

Then they all walked off stage.

Steve was on pins and needles now. Either they lost and would be back down in their seats for Solo Artist of the Year or they would win and they would be be doing the whole press junket again.

The big jumbotron showed the band backstage as the nominations were read, they had their arms around each other and their heads down.

Last year’s winners fumbled with the envelope as they struggled to get it open.

The bassist gripped, “Who the hell seals these things?”

Finally the drummer just ripped the top off like a letter and flipped it open.

“Corroded Coffin!”

The jumbotron showed Eddie and his bandmates just jumping up and down screaming. Then they were being shoved back on stage by their manager, Benny.

Eddie kissed all the other band’s members on the cheek as he went past them to get their final award for the night.

Steve let out a wolf whistle. Eddie looked out into the crowd and spotted him waving and whistling.

Eddie waved back.

“God,” he breathed into the microphone. “I am so grateful, I am just overflowing with gratitude to the academy and all those who voted for us. This album came from a place of love and how to find it in the darkness. It means so much to me that it found a place in people’s hearts. Thank you!”

Each of the members of the band gave their speeches and they were ushered off stage again.

Steve didn’t even bother looking at the person who filled Eddie’s seat. The show was almost over and he was so ready to be out of there and out of this dress.

He knew it made him and whoever he was with look good. That was the point of it after all. But he couldn’t wait to get into the suit and mesh top that he was wearing to the after party.

He stood up and Robin was at his side in an instant.

“Eddie told me to tell you to go ahead and get changed,” Robin said into Steve’s ear to be heard over the din of the exiting crowd, “he’s going to be awhile.

Steve nodded. He knew the drill. She had his garment bag slung over one arm as she led the way out of the main area and into the halls. Troy was right behind them.

Robin led him to a room he could change into and Troy stood guard outside the door.

Steve stripped completely, changing everything including his underwear. Thongs were great for mini dresses but a literal pain in the ass for suit pants.

He refreshed his makeup and double checked his hair. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to Robin.

She knocked on the door to let Troy know they were coming out.

“Eddie’s security just checked in,” Troy said, falling in step with both Robin and Steve. “He’s on his way out to the front and will meet us at the car.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said and let them usher him to the car.

Just before the stepped out, Troy whispered. “There are press out there and they’ll want you to comment on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight. But their management wants you to ‘no comment’.”

Steve took a deep breath. He knew why they didn’t want him to say anything, but he was proud of them all for their well earned wins. Steve looked to Robin.

She shrugged. “I mean, you aren’t under contract with the label anymore not after you two officially became a couple, but don’t rock the boat too hard, yeah?”

Steve nodded again and stepped out back onto the red carpet.

“Steve! Steve!” came the shouts of the paparazzi.

“Are you and Eddie going back to your hotel to celebrate?”

Steve snorted, that one was easy. “No comment!”

“Eddie is expected to be at the Vanity Fair after party, are you going to be there?”

Steve glanced down at his changed outfit and raised a questioning eyebrow at the guy before rolling his eyes and ignoring him.

“Steve!” another paparazzo called. “What are your thoughts on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight?”

And then it hit him. Why the label didn’t want him to say anything. The first time he had heard the song they were nominated for was that night. He wasn’t a fan of Corroded Coffin. He had friends that were, but he wasn’t.

“I’m happy they won,” was all of he said.

It wasn’t the ‘no comment’ the label wanted, but it was vague enough that he could get away with it.

Troy and Robin nodded. He had said the right thing.

There were more questions thrown at him but he sailed through the ordeal with aplomb.

He slipped into the car, hoping that Eddie was already there, but no such luck.

“You okay?” Xander asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Xander raised his eyebrow and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve admitted. “I wasn’t expecting it from a seat filler. I thought they vetted those more thoroughly than that.”

Xander nodded. “Starcourt management is already looking into it. That place was filled with escorts, how did that guy manage to not offend one before you.”

Steve hummed his agreement. He had wondered that, too. “I think he was after me specifically. I got asked if clients had canceled on me after it was announced I was dating Eddie. I know none of them canceled...”

“But maybe it angered people who were going to request you enough to not even try?”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah.”

Just then the door was yanked open and Eddie practically threw himself onto the backseat of the car.

He was pissed.

Steve immediately went into soothe alpha mode. “Hey, love, you okay?”

“I’m suing someone for slander,” he huffed, “and before you think I’m over reacting, Benny, my manager is the one that suggested it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “If it was about me, sweetie, you’re going to have to get in line behind Starcourt. They take those things very seriously.”

Eddie blinked at him a moment, but that seemed to settle something in him and relaxed. “Good.”

Steve giggled as he was pulled onto his lap. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. You were three for three tonight.”

Eddie kissed him soundly. “I was indeed, I was right. You were my good luck charm.”

“Pleasure to have been of service,” Steve cooed.

Xander pulled out into traffic and Steve slid off Eddie’s lap and sat down next to him.

“It was a little rough today,” he murmured.

Eddie sighed. “Yeah, it was. I’m not sure why. Gareth has taken escorts to events before as have several people I know. But they were out to get you tonight.”

Steve sighed and took Eddie’s hand. He played with the rings as he gathered his thoughts.

“I think it’s because I’m so young in being courted,” Steve murmured.

Eddie frowned and turned in the seat a little to get a better look at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Most escorts that bond are in their late thirties/early forties. Meaning they’ve had a couple of decades under their belt, but I’m not even thirty yet and all they can see is someone who is trying to honey trap one of the greatest rockstars of the era.”

Eddie rubbed his face with his free hand. “Shit, baby. I didn’t realize. But it’s ridiculous because you made more last year then the whole band did. If anything, I’m trying to honey trap you.”

Steve lowered his eyelids. “Does that mean we’re going to get sticky later?”

Eddie nearly choked on his own tongue. “Yeah, baby. We’re gonna get sticky tonight.”

Steve leaned in close, but Eddie put up a finger. “After the after party, you fiend!”

Steve pouted, but he wasn’t serious. He knew that Eddie needed to see and be seen after winning big tonight.

He just was going to tease his boyfriend about it first.

****

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

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[ridestomars]

GIRL U WANT – S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: steve harrington is in love with his coworker, y/n, and max mayfield can't stand how annoying a lovesick steve is.  𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: y/n is used!! it's kinda told from max's point of view. idiots in love (obv), max and steve have a little sister-older brother relationship. bad grammar ig. not proofread (yk the deal). 3k-ish words.

💭 liv's thoughts: look at me rewriting my wip list works. this is another one that has been sitting on my docs page for ages, and i finally got the courage to fulfill it. i hope you guys like it! 

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

“Look at you with your mouth watering, look at you with your mind spinnin'. Why don't we just admit it's all over? She's just the girl you want”. 

People say patience is a virtue, but Maxine Mayfield begs to differ. 

She doesn't believe in that "good things come for those who wait" crap, because nothing nice ever came her way for just standing there until something happened. The only thing she got from waiting around was a terrible yearning sensation of what could have been if she wasn't such a wimp. That is why Max doesn't exercise the righteous quality of patience, preferring her natural impulsiveness instead. Her restlessness is just too precious not to be used – Seventeen magazine insists on telling her that it's just a thing Aries girls do. 

Her effort usually pays off, but when it doesn't, there is nothing better than a "fuck you" to tend the wounds. Rejection is always a possibility, but being disappointed because of it isn't, and with time, you learn how to deal with the negative responses… despite that, Max likes to consider herself too persuasive to ever be declined.

But she has to admit that her intrinsic sense of fearlessness can make her a little insensitive when it comes to people's fear of rejection because, to her, it's just all so simple. Though she tries to be understanding, others' stupidity can become a bit too much for her to handle, and she almost always finds herself on the verge of scolding them for their inability to be bold. It was like when she first started dating Lucas: she had a very serious talk with him about his embarrassment to complain about his wrong orders to the servers because he fears being met with a rude attitude – she still walks up to the workers to point out that his order came with pickles when he didn't want any, but just because it's him. 

For some time now, Max found herself in an annoying situation. Over her boring vacation evenings, she began visiting Family Video a lot, and began picking up on something that grew to be infuriating: Steve's and Y/N's constant bullshit. Their (initial) quiet pining was cute, at first, because it made her feel like she was watching a real-life rom-com, with an exciting "will they or won't they?" plot line… reminiscent of the late-nights where she would pretend to be asleep on the living room couch to catch the new Cheers episode, to see if Diane and Sam would finally get together. Yet, as the days passed and their never-ending coyness appeared to only grow stronger, her hopes started to falter. In fact, the situation began to get so obvious that it started to get on her nerves. Big time.

She was an observer, and easily noticed the lingering looks as they talked, one getting distracted by the other's lips, or the way their brows furrowed when attempting to flirt. Or the jealous blush that dusted over Steve's cheeks whenever he saw you talking to a good-looking customer. And then, whenever you weren't at work, she hears his grumpy huffs that turn into infatuated sighs as soon as you walk through the door, apologizing for being late. It wasn't hard to miss your affectionate words about him when he wasn't around, as if talking about your co-worker would make his absence more tolerable. 

What was sweet, quickly turned into tiresome when the instances of you two almost kissing turn into a daily thing. She can't count the times when she caught Steve leaning his face closer to yours, taking the courage to make his move, but right at the last second… the plan totally backfires. You either bump heads (Max physically cringes whenever she remembers the scene) or too distracted, ended up turning away from the other. Either option brought a burning ache to the chest. 

The blatant crush you have on each other followed Max everywhere she goes as if she was doomed to hear about it until the end of times. Steve was never necessarily reserved about his infatuation – although it seemed like everyone knew about it, except the one person that should –, and since he gives her rides everywhere, she found herself listening to him babble about the gorgeous gleam in your eyes and your shiny hair. The guy sees you as something sacred, and yet… he never admits that he actually likes you, despite the fact that you are all he ever talks about. 

To him, you are a piece of heaven on Earth, the person who understands him the most and makes him feel good about himself, among other incredibly elaborate platonic compliments.

Max knows Steve is pretty much the most idiotic guy to ever exist, but he isn't stupid. It's obvious that he just doesn't want to admit his feelings because, if he does, he will have to do something about it, and being blind to the fact that you feel the same, he doesn't want to risk it. If things went wrong, his heart wouldn't be able to take it. 

The only question roaming Max's head is: he is secure, but at what price? 

It all makes days like today even more unbearable. 

They have been sitting inside Steve's burgundy BMW for almost five minutes now, with the clear window closed, the A/C turned up to maximum speed, and Madonna's 'True Blue' playing on the radio. After their arrival at Family Video's parking lot, Max had asked for a minute, just one fucking minute, to fix her shoelaces and Steve used it as an opportunity to daydream as he stared out the windshield. His eyes were set ahead, and she didn't need to look to know who he was staring at. 

This was starting to get depressing. 

"Steve," Max calls, as harsh as ever. "Stop". 

As if he had just been electrocuted, Steve turns his head to stare at the fifteen-year-old. Eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared, he defends himself, "But I'm not doing anything". 

"Exactly, you moron," she grumbles. "You gotta tell her". 

'No more sadness, I kiss it goodbye. The sun is burs-', Max interrupts Madonna by turning off the radio, stopping any possible distractions.

It's clear that Steve doesn't like where this is going, because his face contorts into that sour annoyed look that makes her take a deep breath. This is going to be difficult.

"Tell what to who?" pretending to be clueless, he purses his lips, but his eyes don't lie, quickly drifting back to Y/N's figure. There was no escape now, not with Max's sharp gaze bearing down on him.

"You're so full of shit".

"Hey! Language, Maxine," he reprimands, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about". 

"You're in love with her," she motions to his co-worker who was still blissfully unaware of the car parked outside. 

And her words rang as an absurdity to him.  

"Max, for the love of-," his protest is interrupted by the girl and the know-it-all tone he hates so much.

"Steve, you're so into her it's ridiculous," her blue eyes narrow at him, hardening her expression. He scoffs, crossing his arms as he looks in the other direction, trying not to give too much away.

They stay like that for a few seconds, with him staring out the window, refusing to take part in the discussion, and Max glaring at his blushing, conflicted face. 

But then, he breaks. 

"Fine," Steve breathes out, "I mean, I'd make out with her… like, platonically, you know?"

The word comes out as if he had just remembered it existed, and Max doesn't buy it for a second, "You can't make out with someone platonically, Steve".

He takes her harsh delivery with a contemplating face, letting it all sink in. It wasn't groundbreaking, but it did break his argument, and he finds himself agreeing with what she had said… and he gets a grip. 

"Why am I listening to a thirteen-year-old?" he mutters, in disbelief. Huffing, Steve turns back at her, already gripping the door handle, "You know what, smarty-pants? I gotta work".

"I'm fifteen, Harrington! And we're not done!"

Max trails behind him as he gets out of the car in a hurry, stepping heavily into the pavement. As Steve bursts through the glass door with the girl in tow, they catch the attention of everyone inside Family Video. He gives you and Robin an embarrassed smile, stepping onto a random aisle, trying to hide from the curious stares. 

From the corner of his eye, Steve realizes that he still hasn't gotten rid of the stubborn girl, so he gathers the cluttered tapes and organizes them, in a failed attempt to avoid Max's inquisitive look. Moving the Pretty in Pink tapes around, the redhead crosses her arms, still staring. 

"You should learn a thing or two about that movie, you know?" she says with a quiet voice.

"What are you talking about, Mayfield?" he asks with a defeated sigh, clearly getting annoyed by her.

"Duckie didn't do anything about his crush on Andie, and had to settle for being her best friend in the end," she spells it out for him, "While she got to make out with Andrew McCarthy. Arguably more good-looking and charming than Jon Cryer". 

Steve rolls his eyes, but the situation does ring out an alarm at the back of his mind. What if… no, let's not go there. "What are you trying to say, wise-ass?"

"I'm saying," she continues, not willing to let him take a breath, "Are you truly willing to miss your shot? Stop being such a coward and go for it!".

"You talk as if I actually have a chance".

There it is. 

This was what she wanted to hear. 

"Steve, the girl is almost putting up a bright sign saying 'Go for it! Ask me out, you idiot!'". 

Drifting his eyes away from the tapes he was organizing, Steve watches as you laugh at something Robin had said. His gaze softens as he contemplates the scene, his hesitancy quavering every time the sound of your laughter reached his ears. This time, seeing the longing look in his eyes made a gentle, sympathetic feeling grow inside Max's chest, so different than the impatient annoyance she was so used to. 

"Look, Steve," her green eyes droop with friendly warmth. Though she might say that this is such a rare sight, that is what he sees every day when he talks to her. "I'm just saying what I noticed, and even if I'm wrong, which I'm not, by the way, you gotta take this off your chest. This is your chance!".

Staring down at her, he can only blink. Her encouraging words are settling in his mind, screeching as they do so, and he wonders… the gears inside his head spinning out of control, smoking everything so bad he almost can't see anything. Steve feels a bit out of breath.

But, impatient as always, Max keeps going as if she hasn't just collapsed all of his plans to stay in your friendship's comfort zone. With the wisdom that few possess, she continues, "I know you're still hung up on your Nancy-heartbreak and everything, but you're standing in your own way on this one, Steve. I can't tell you what the future holds, but I'm sure that you'll feel a lot better after you tell her about it". 

His intentions to continue ignoring it all are crumbling to dust inside him right now and her words make him feel defenseless, too vulnerable to continue disregarding his own fear of possible rejection. 

"That doesn't make sense," he scoffs, though his voice is soft and quiet, "Why would I want to do something like that if I don't know what the outcome is? She might just turn me down, and I don't think I could…"

Eyes drifting back to your breathtaking figure behind the counter, he stops himself before finishing the sentence. His face lit up with an astonishing expression of realization. Steve lets out another defeated sigh… maybe Max was right. 

With a knowing smile, she tells him, "Because you know she's worth it". 

xxx

Steve has had his head in the clouds ever since his little chat with Max earlier and could barely concentrate on having any work done throughout the rest of his shift. It didn't help that he also couldn't escape the sight of you from any corner of Family Video, and had to take several breaks until closing hours to avoid his head from exploding. 

Pacing back and forth inside the employee's break room instead of helping you put everything away (not exactly the top priority on his list right now), Steve tries to muster up even the slightest string of courage to talk to you about his feelings.

Now, on top of being an absolute wimp, he can also add useless when thinking to his list. 

He takes a big breath as he replays what Max had said, and almost unconsciously, snippets of Billy Joel's 'Tell Her About It' start echoing with it. The combination was able to help him make an outline of everything he'd like to say to you. 

"I like you. I don't want the chance to slip away. It's okay if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to say something before it's too late", he mutters to himself, still walking in circles. "If yes, then, ba-ba-bam, charm her up. If heartbreak, retreat. I'll be fine. Fine. Just fine. A-okay". 

Steve feels the same rush as he felt before going to his High School basketball matches, and he can only hope that the results will be far more positive. He takes another deep breath, shaking his arms before he walks over to the door. His fingers touch the door handle, cool under his fingertips. This is his chance. The store was closing, there were no customers around, and Robin had left early for band practice. 

Let's do it, he thinks to himself.

Determined and possessed by a sense of overconfidence, Steve snaps the door open, letting it hit the wall with a loud noise. The sudden movement turns your attention on him, and he can feel his cheeks burning bright under your gaze, his faux bravado trembling below the warmth of your eyes. The quizzical look you gave made him question his own ability for the dramatics. 

"It, uh, got stuck", he offers an embarrassed smile.

Good. Already starting with a lie.

"Yeah," your expression turns into amusement, "it gets jammed all the time". 

The kindness in your voice makes him feel a little better about himself, maybe he wasn't being such a fool in front of you. His heart started to thump inside his chest, blood pumping in his ears like thunder as he walked closer to where you stood, just behind the big counter. With an intense gaze set on your face, he watched as your eyebrows furrow in his direction again. 

"Is there something on my face?" you lift your hand up to your cheek, wiping it off in a hurry.

"No! It's just-," he interrupts himself, suddenly realizing that this script wasn't supposed to go this way. What is he meant to say now? Under your expectant gaze, it's not like he can think of anything intelligible. "It's not that". 

"Oh, okay," breathing out, seeming relieved by the information, you bring your hand down. With a voice that dripped with curiosity, you ask, "Why we-were you staring, then?"

Steve feels so stupid now that he can only blink down at you, his head getting fuzzy by that cute look in your eyes and the way your lips quirked up, stifling a smile. Yeah, he's a goner.

Before he could actually think about what he was saying, he hears the sound of his voice echoing through the empty video rental store, "I don't wanna be a Duckie". 

"What are you talking about?" you laugh out loud, though it's clear that you're not laughing at him. His words took you both by surprise, and he couldn't expect any other reaction. 

"Sorry," Steve apologizes, chuckling along, "I didn't mean to say that. What I wanted to say was… well, by the look on your face I think you already know". 

Again, he just blurted it out without reflecting on it first. But it was justified. 

For the first time, he saw something different in the way you looked up at him. Maybe it was just him being impacted by Max's words, but Steve swears that he has never seen that mellow tenderness gleaming in the color of your eyes before… or at least, he had never noticed it like this. He feels like an even bigger idiot now for not realizing it sooner. 

"Know what?" your question comes as a sign of your unawareness of his new understanding, and it makes a sweet smile grow on his face.

"I like you". 

The three words come out in a far more relaxed way than he had originally imagined his confession to be. Clearly, his realization made a wave of true confidence wash over his body, putting him back in his element of ease. And to say it out loud was a relief like no other.

But when he was met with no answer, just that shocked look on your face, his smile faltered.

"It's alright if you don't feel the same," he reassures, "I just… I didn't want to keep waiting around, wasting more opportunities by never telling you how I feel, because if you feel the same, I really don't want you to get away just like that. And uh- I don't want to be just your friend, but it's fine if you-"

"I like you too", you talk a bit louder than him, interrupting his train of thought, without any remorse. "I, uh- never said anything because I thought you didn't like me back". 

He is still, like a statue in front of you, processing the information. 

And it seems like an eternity before he cups your face, the palms of his hands resting warmly over your cheeks. His long fingers graze against your temples, and just the feeling is enough to ease your hammering heart, but as he leans closer to your face, you can feel your own breath ricocheting against his lips.

Steve stares at you through half-lidded eyes, as if he is waiting for your go-ahead. And it's only when you softly nod up at him that he presses his mouth against yours, letting his lips wrap around your bottom lip in a soft, loving peck. His mind was misty with increasing thoughts of you, your candy-flavored lips, and the smooth texture of your cheeks, along with the feel of the roots of your hair on his fingertips. You were breathing in each other in your kiss, and your breath came faltering against the other cheek. It was truly world-shattering, something you had never felt before in your life. 

As you slowly, and almost reluctantly so, pull apart, Steve feels a small chuckle bubbling up in his throat. Seeing your amused expression, he smiles. 

"We have so much time to make up for". 

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie. 

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[ashthewaterghoul]

I'm Still Your Favourite Regret, You're Still My Weapon Of Choosing - A Banana!Verse One Shot

It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck… Or, Dew and Alpha make an impulsive and rather permanent decision. The morning after, with the sun shining down on what they did, makes the two react in a less-than-healthy way for their now-bound souls.

Words: 3190

Rating: Teen and up (just bc of like a smidgen of sex talk)

Relationships: Alpha/Dewdrop, some background Swiver and Air/Earth.

Tags: Whatever the Ghoul-equivalent of getting impulse married in Vegas is, bc this is that, angst, whump, feels, unhappy ending, Alpha can't deal with his emotions, the morning after, mating bonds.

Inspired by @anotherbananasong 's universe.

Title taken from 'Blood Sport' by Sleep Token

~~~

    It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck.

    You barely had to look at Dew to know how much of a dive his self-esteem had taken since his forced transformation. His hair, his temperature, his very soul had been changed by whatever torture was laid upon him. Alpha had sat with Dew the first time he summoned flames to his hands, and the crushed look on Dew’s face said it all. He was broken.

    Alpha didn’t do emotions. He was the Ministry’s resident asshole. His Fire fuelled his every word and action and no one ever came to him for any of that teary, feely bullshit. He’d burnt those bridges long ago.

    So that’s why it came as a shock when Dew dropped the usual vague message for one of their nights together. Dew hadn’t been with anyone since waking up, so why was he getting that chance?

    Alpha found himself to be nervous for the first time he could remember as he walked up to Dew’s room. And when Dew opened the door so Alpha could duck through, he knew he couldn’t do it, couldn’t give Dew those biting words and harsh treatment he usually did. Dew’s eyes were red and raw from crying, his clothes looked like he hadn’t changed them for days and his entire demeanour was just completely and utterly sad.

    The door locked behind him, and Alpha found his mouth running before his brain.

    “I- I can’t, Dew. Can’t do this when you’re like that.” Since when was he considerate?

    “No! Don’t leave, please.” Dew begged, more tears falling as he threw his arms around Alpha.

    And that’s when Alpha felt it. The familiarity in the flames that coursed through both their veins. Two souls begging to burn together.

    As Alpha woke up, his face dropped at the feeling in his chest. There was something else there. The flames in his soul dancing with Dew’s own in an eternal duet. His hand was throbbing and a bloody strip of fabric laid on the other side of Dew’s nest. When Alpha looked at his palm, he held back a gasp as he looked at Dew.

    For the first time since the Ancients got Dew out of that Satan-forsaken ritual room, the little Ghoul looked peaceful. He must have been having a good dream because even asleep he was smiling like the cat that got the canary. He looked as young as he was meant to, not the haunted gaze he’d taken on recently. Alpha could feel the contentment thrumming in his chest. What was this magic? Why was he so attuned to Dew? What happened last night?

    “Mate with me. Give me your heart.”

Read below the cut or on ao3

“Oh shit.” Alpha said as the memories came back crystal clear. He held one hand in the other, a finger tracing the wound that matched one on Dew’s own outstretched palm.

    The little Fire Ghoul was so broken and Alpha had just gone and broken him even more. No, Dew was too good for this world. He’d been through so much; he didn’t deserve what Alpha always gave him. Careless and cold and cruel. He wasn’t sure how it even started, the dynamic between them. He doesn’t remember Dew asking for it, and he doesn’t remember ever wanting it. He always walked away from their sessions feeling dirty and guilty, even with aftercare and maybe a round of make-up sex. But he wasn’t for all the feelings and emotional intelligence. So, he always snuffed it all out and shoved it into the far corners of his mind.

    He got out of the nest, careful not to disturb Dew, and got his clothes back on as quickly as he could. A quick check in the bathroom to make sure his veil was in place and he beelined for the door.

    Dew rolled over and gave a contented little hum, still fast asleep and oblivious. Alpha surprised himself with the smile that grew across his face at the frankly adorable sight, but it was soon replaced by an unbearable guilt for what he’d done. He silently padded back over to the nest. He brushed Dew’s hair from his face, leant over and said the words he had said the previous night. Words he would never say again out loud when he knew people could hear,

    “You are so loved.”

    He gave Dew’s head a small kiss, then steeled himself for the walk back to the catacombs. Luckily it was still early so no one was out. River had been talking about going to Swiss’ for the night, Omega was probably still asleep, Lake was somewhere and so he just had to worry about not seeing-

    “Morning.”

    “Hey Alpha.”

    Oh great. The fucking lovebirds.

Alpha gave non-committal grunts to Air and Earth.

    “Is Dew okay?” Air asked. While Alpha would always call him a literal airhead, he knew what Dew and Alpha got up to. And it being so soon after Dew woke up, the concern in Air’s face the previous day when Alpha left for the little one’s room was severe.

    However, for Alpha the mention of his mat- the Fire Ghoul had him growling, tears once again welling up in his eyes.

    The rarely seen tears were enough to make both Ghouls freeze. Earth didn’t even have a remark to make about someone growling at his mate.

    Alpha went to his room, slamming the door behind him and falling to the ground against it. His tears were coming more rapidly now and just to boot he could feel Dew. He must be awake now and his own confusion and pain were radiating down the bond they now shared. It twisted Alpha’s heart, and he hated it. His throat burned with the sobs he was slowly failing to hold back so he ripped his veil off and held it to his mouth to muffle his cries.

    His pain and Dew’s swirled around in his chest. He never dealt with his own emotions, now he had to feel someone else’s?! Alpha grabbed at his shirt and balled up the fabric over where the bond was.

    Couldn’t it go away? Just go away! Alpha internally begged, crying and rocking himself until he felt something shift. Dew was getting nearer. Oh fuck no, he was coming down to the catacombs. So, Alpha did what he always did. He took his pesky emotions, locked them down and threw them into the back corner of his mind.

    There was no conceivable reality in which Alpha would ever be a good mate, so he promised himself he wouldn’t even try. Maybe it would push Dew away enough so they could ignore what they did, maybe the little one could find a mate who was truly worthy of him. And maybe Alpha whimpered as he felt it weigh down on the bond.

----

    Dew woke up feeling odd.

    Usually after his sessions with Alpha he was sore, or just tired. But this was different. The Ancient had left before Dew woke up but that was more common than not. Dew couldn’t quite explain why that hurt more than normal though. He shrugged, blaming it on the cut on his ha- Oh shit.

    “You are so loved.” Alpha had said as he held Dew like he was some sort of deity. Every pass of his large hands was nothing less than reverent as was everything he had done with Dew that night.

    Dew didn’t know he could be so genuine and heartfelt and in a rush of his own emotions he said something mad. He expected Alpha to say no, for the dynamic to shift back to what it usually was and all emotion to be lost. But Alpha kissed Dew oh so gently, took the spare veil Dew kept stashed in his room for any of the Ancients, just in case, and said, “Do you think this would work? We don’t have any of the normal ritual bindings in here.”

    The fabric was just a few feet away from Dew, soaked with both their blood and the infernal magic that the rites carried. That wasn’t the only evidence of what they had done last night. Dew could feel Alpha in his soul. His burdening turmoil weighed like a stone in Dew’s heart. It made him whine as he felt every note of pain his mate was in.

    Dew and Alpha may have made a very stupid heat-of-the-moment decision, but he always tried to be a Ghoul of his word. If he had a mate now, he would do his best and be a damned good mate.

    He pulled on his clothes and ran out of his room. Sure, his t-shirt was on backwards and he was completely barefoot, but he didn’t really care. Something in the bond came alive as Dew steadily grew nearer to the other end of it. He almost allowed himself a small smile at the warm fuzzy feeling of it until it was suddenly gone. It felt like a wall had gone up, and he couldn’t feel Alpha anymore. Not in the same intensity at least.

    Dew had to stop halfway down the stairs and grasp at his chest, ironically enough with the hand that bore the wound of their mating. Fuck, it hurt. Mating bonds weren’t supposed to do this. They were meant to be left wide open, conveying nothing more than the Ghouls’ love and commitment to one another. Dew started whining at the stone that had suddenly become a boulder in his chest.

    “Dewdrop?” The familiar voice of Air echoed up the stairs, his footsteps too as he drew nearer, falling to his knees to be closer to eye-level with Dew, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

    Dew, desperate for comfort his own fucking mate didn’t seem to want to give him, fell forwards against Air’s chest, managing to become somewhat acquainted with the pain that showed no sign of letting up.

    “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Dew.” Air soothed, wrapping his arms around the little Ghoul.

    The two stayed there awkwardly on the steps until Dew nodded and pulled away, “I need to speak to Alpha. Is he home?”

    Air’s eyebrows furrowed with concern as he nodded, “In his room.”

    Air led the way even though Dew knew the catacombs like the back of his hand, and Earth was waiting by Alpha’s door.

    “Nothing.” He said, to his mate as they approached. Dew’s own concern grew at Earth, of all Ghouls, being worried for the Fire Ghoul.

    Air knocked on the door, “Alfie? Dew’s here, can he come in?”

    There was silence from the room and Dew could feel the muted panic of the Ghoul inside.

    “Alpha, you’re never like this. We just want to help.” Earth added.

    Still nothing, and Dew could feel the bond being more and more shut away. His wounded hand still over his chest, he did his best not to show the pain all of it was causing him.

    “Satanas, fuck. Alpha! Open the door or I’m breaking it down!” Earth said in a much louder voice and angrier tone.

    “What are you shouting for? It’s too early.” Omega came from his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and scowling at the Earth Ghoul.

    “No need for breaking anything.” Air said to his mate, before glimmering away into the vents.

----

    Alpha was frozen in fear when he heard Dew’s name. He couldn’t face him, not after what he’d done. If he just ignored it, they would all leave him. He could come out in a few hours with his usual bite and snark and all would be back to normal.

    “What happened to your veil?”

    “Fuck!” Alpha startled, not noticing Air materialising in front of him, “Warn a Ghoul before you sneak into his room.”

    Air gave a small smile, “Maybe you should stop wrecking your veil and you’d notice me.”

    “I don’t know about that. Mattresses are hard to take any real notice of. And I didn’t wreck my-“ But as Alpha looked to the mound of fabric that until moments ago had still been up to his mouth. Not only was it stained from tears and snot, but dozens of fang and claw marks had been slashed through it in his frantic attempt for comfort. It was completely ruined.

    “Oh, fuck. I- I- I didn’t mean to! I promise! I-“

    “Hey, you’re fine. It’s fine.” Air assured, “It’s just cloth. This is why we all have multiple.” Air got up and walked over to Alpha’s wardrobe to get a fresh one.

    Alpha couldn’t rip his eyes away from the wrecked veil. Twice in twelve hours, he had desecrated what the Ancients used to show their faith, their worship, their commitment. His own was a burnt orange to match his Fire. It was a random idea when the Ancients started veiling that they would all have colours that matched to their Elements. Alpha called it dumb but he stuck with it. He couldn’t help that it complimented his eyes! As Alpha stared at it more, he realised it was now a perfect match for the shade of Dew’s eyes.

----

    Earth was anxious as Air disappeared into Alpha’s room. He didn’t like interactions between the two when he was present, let alone with a locked door in the way.

    “Everything okay in there?”

    “Yup, just a veil situation.” Air shouted back.

    Earth visibly relaxed, but Dew tensed. He knew how important the veils were to all the Ancients, especially Alpha. It had taken a while for the older Fire Ghoul to let Dew put his hands or face anywhere near it.

    A few moments later Air slipped out the door and shut it behind him before Dew could so much as smell Alpha within.

    “He, uh, doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” Air said regretfully.

    “Doesn’t want to see anyone? Or doesn’t want to see me?” Dew questioned.

    “He said ‘anyone’.” Air confirmed.

    Dew snarled low in his throat, his Fire prickling away under his skin. Alpha’s own much bigger, angrier flames burned with them.

    “Well then, he’s a big grown-up Ghoul. When he’s stopped fucking pouting and sulking like a kit, he can come talk to me like a fucking adult!” Dew raised his voice enough that Alpha absolutely would’ve heard him. He kicked the door, rattling it within its hinges, before turning around to leave the catacombs. He shouted as he left: “And I need another spare veil for my room!”

    Air, Earth and Omega were all left staring dumbfounded at each other and the space Dew had been standing in.

    Dew however, was seeing red and needed to be as far away from Alpha as he could. He stormed back up to his own pack’s dorms and his eyes narrowed when he saw Swiss’ door. He knew River had stayed over, he could hear them giggling as the TV played, and Dew decided No Happy Couples.

    He knocked and River answered, “Dew, you okay?”

    “No, I need Swiss.” Dew said shortly, his chest twisted as River’s face fell at his tone.

    “Oh, okay. I’ll, uh, head down then.” River mumbled, saying a short goodbye to the confused Multi.

    “The fuck, Dew?” Swiss said annoyed, everyone knew how sensitive River is.

    Dew couldn’t hold back anymore and started bawling.

    Swiss’ frustration completely faded as he rushed over and gathered Dew up in his arms. Swiss was no Ancient but he was still taller than Dew and carried him over to his nest. Swiss tried to get Dew to talk but he just shook his head as he cried, carefully keeping his hand balled up and hidden.

    He managed to fall asleep for a while, and when he woke up, there was one glorious moment where Dew thought the larger body wrapped around him was Alpha’s. But reality soon came crashing down on top of the boulder that had remained rigidly in place. He thanked Swiss, apologising for ruining his morning with River, and went back to his own room.

    Dew tried to clean up his room, put it back so it looked just as it did before Alpha had arrived, trying to erase what they did. As he picked up the veil they had used to bind their souls, Dew felt his eyes welling up again. He wanted to burn it so bad. Say a big ‘fuck you’ to Alpha and destroy the fabric that held so much significance to him, with the flames he had taught Dew to use. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

    Instead, Dew raised it to his nose. It smelt so delectably of the two of them. He hid it under a pillow and continued fixing his nest. What he didn’t realise was that as he shoved the fabric away, he shoved the bond away and closed it off, just the same as Alpha had.

    Alpha wanted to be stubborn and play this game? Fine, he could do it. But as Dew was learning to dance with the flames, he was also learning that he could go on too. Dew would pretend that none of this had bothered him, and it would just be more fuel for their hateful dynamic.

    In reality? Dew couldn’t sleep until he was clutching that bloodied veil to his chest, smelling the both of them on it.

    And as for Alpha, he kept the veil he had wrecked that morning too. Because after his nose had pushed past the scent of his own misery, he could smell where Dew had held onto it and begged Alpha to be his, for their souls to be one.

    It was only in the moments in the dead of night, when he was sure Dew was asleep, that Alpha would lift that veil up to his face and wish the little Fire Ghoul himself was there with him, to kiss away his tears just as he did for Dew did on that fateful night.

    The two fell into a game of circling each other, silently trying to goad the other into breaking first. They never spoke about it and refused to acknowledge the bond that tied their souls together forevermore. They didn’t seem to care that by hurting each other they were only hurting themselves.

    Every time Dew tried to get Alpha to just look at him, he was treated like nothing more than a smear of shit on his boot. And Alpha never even tried to get anything from Dew other than to be left alone.

    It landed them in an endless cycle of their flames fully coming out for each other and neither were willing to even try and douse it out. Always yearning for love and comfort, and not realising they could have it in each other if they just let it happen. Forever stuck in an eternal world of shared misery that they isolated themselves in.

a/n: ...…Until Earth says ‘fuck this shit’ and beats Alpha to pulp for being such a dickhead.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case: An Eddie Munson x Fem!Hispanic!Reader

Chapter One - Seek and Destroy

After many years of being unable to connect in a personal way with reader insert fiction across all genres, I’ve decided to make an insert where I’m forcing you to eat a concha, speak a little Spanish and be absolutely weird. I’m a short Hispanic chick who was a loser in high school bro. I admire other writers here in the fandom who have every confidence in me being a bombshell badass, but I’m not her. This one’s for my Hispanic/Latina no sabo girlies who never beat the weird kid allegations and who never fit right into any mold. Con mucho amor. ❤️

[Masterlist] - Chapter One (You are here) - Chapter Two

***

Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth, of that, you were certain.

You did not want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new home, everyone needed to start looking harder. Expanding the search area. Keeping the name in the media. Doing something about the rampant corruptions and blatant conspiracy afoot.

So you were going to do what you did best: shut out the entire world, and focus inward.

I will not hold fear… Fear is the mind killer…

“Sit up right huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”

You slid your feet off the seat, hoping deliberately that your shoes left marks. You were looking out the window with a scowl. You wanted to be anywhere but here, in this piece of shit town…

Your mother obviously noticed the scowl, as she sighed deeply before trying to talk to you again.

“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, yeah?”

“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”

“Watch your mouth.” Your mother snapped. “And you know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”

“And what the hell about dad?!” You demanded. “Huh?! How the shit do we continue doing our part if we’re all far away?!”

Your mother’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, eyes narrowing as she drove. Your words had obviously hit a raw nerve. It had only been a year and some change… The changes hadn’t even had time to settle before the move came.

“What’s done is done. How many times am I going to have to go through this?! It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”

“Bullshit…” You hissed, quietly resigning yourself to silence as you knew any further provocation would start another fight you didn’t want to hear.

The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets. Even though the realtor had boasted about the minimal commute to the schools, with traffic and the morning commute, Hawkins managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, your mom had anticipated this. By five am that morning your mother was already blasting a mix of oldies on her eight track, banging on your bedroom door and setting off the barking of your family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped you in the bathroom when you stumbled in to use the hair dryer brush on your unruly hair, Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, and the family cat Rhett had puked all over your brother Jaime’s work pants while he screamed at you to help him find another pair. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome.

It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.

Your mother blasted the horn at a green Chevy that nearly sideswiped her, trying to cut in front of her.

“Pinches babosos!” Your mother growled under your breath, but you were too pissed off to care about your normally prim mother’s little slip up.

The two of you stayed in silence for some time, until you spoke up.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” You muttered, “A la chingada mujer.”

“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Your mother demanded. “There’s no way we could have managed in California, and Hawkins Elementary was the only district hiring for my preferred grade. I wasn’t going to kill myself working with middle schoolers in Lynwood!”

“But serio mom?! Right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait until I graduated?”

“With the way you were acting, you were on your way to getting held back for the year.” Your mother hissed, clearly fed up with your bullshit. “So shut your mouth and quit complaining.”

You shut your mouth. What could you say to that? Your mother was right.

A lot had changed in the past year. You were now compulsive in your actions, self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed. Pacing up and down the hallway of the old house listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on your clothes was, as was the rebellion of dying all of the new clothes your mom bought you some shade of black or gray. You had always been a bit of a space case, living in your imagination as a kid and reading your weird books or bothering your parents with stories of aliens and weird monsters, but that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, lashing out and isolating away from everyone... This was not normal. This was not your normal.

The reasonably happy, vibrant kid that your mother knew was gone. Instead replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had your innocence ripped traumatically away from you too young.

I will not hold fear… Fear is the mind killer…

This was not how senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country.

The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for you. Normally you would be excited at all the greenery, the majority of your life spent staring at the same desert scrubs and adobe houses. Hawkins had four seasons, New Mexico had maybe two, but you would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.

New Mexico was closer to dad…

It only got worse from there as the car approached the high school. Your mom pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared you down with a hard gaze.

“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”

Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars still waiting to exit the drop off lane. You stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if you would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. You began chewing on the sleeve of your large jacket, already sweltering under layers of clothes even though the summer mornings in Hawkins were balmy at 85 degrees with high humidity.

“Stop chewing on it mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Your mother said, swatting your hand.

You moved the cuff away from your mouth but said nothing, instead fishing in the pocket for your Walkman. When you pulled it out, you opened the tape deck and rooted through your backpack, yanking out a cassette tape from the depths and popping it in. The volume was up so high that your mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of your headphones when you pressed the play button.

“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day at a new school?”

“Nope.” you growled, pushing the Walkman into your pocket. “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me.”

The bite in your tone was unmistakable. You were more afraid than angry.

Despite your mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands, you unbuckled yourself, threw open the car door, slung your backpack over your shoulder and slammed the car door on the way out.

Your arrival at school was not exactly on the best of terms, and already you were making enemies out of the majority preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping your way through throngs of students to the front office for your locker assignment and school timetable, bumping the shoulders of anyone who got in your way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.

The hell with everyone you figured. Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron.

I will not hold fear… Fear is the mind killer…

You hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, you came to school in a black cardigan over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and your hair half assed done.

The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, you wore a large Carhartt jacket over your ensemble. Your headphones were on, your Walkman was blasting so loud that the music could be heard when you walked, and your scowl was so menacing that you could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed you by. It was your one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High you had decided to be a goddamned menace.

It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard you tried to deter everyone away from you, it took you maybe the first ten minutes of trying to find your classes to realize that Hawkins High, home of the Tigers, had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills.

You were drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to your take no shit attitude. One big dude you shoulder checked ended up checking you right back into the tan lockers, the crash of your body into the metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a gaggle of girls to point and laugh. They said hateful, evil, ignorant shit as they passed, screaming it into your ear or yanking your headphones right off your ears so you would be forced to listen. The name calling cut deep to the core too. One girl even called you a slur to your face, a foot flashed out from some wastoid and nearly sent you toppling to the ground had your oversized jacket not caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom.

It was fucking humiliating. You wanted everyone to go away and leave you alone, and your rebellious attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention you did not want.

You hid in the girl’s bathroom, pushing passed a girl in a blue sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail to lock yourself in a stall. The tears could not wait until you were sure the bathroom was empty, you began to sob uncontrollably, loud and unashamed, the noises so awkward you did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.

Fuck this day. Fuck this town. You wanted out. If you could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car you saw today, you would do it.

Dainty footsteps approached your stall as you bawled like a baby, a soft knock making you freeze.

“Go away!” you cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.

“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”

A soft, delicate voice only foretold by a pair of blue high heels at the opening of the bottom of the stall. You did not know the girl, nor did you want to.

“Go away…” you begged, face burning with embarrassment as you groveled for your freedom. “Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”

The shoes hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving you to your pity party.

I will not hold fear… Fear is the mind killer…

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes cabrona. Quien te tiene?

You could already hear the criticism from your mother in your mind as the late bell rang and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With your glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, you exited the stall with your tail between your legs, cleaning up at the sink and washing your face clean before you made up your mind. You were not going to class today or ever again, every part of your mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out. Maybe you could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla or the Dodge Aspen to make your escape, probably the Aspen since it was less inconspicuous and would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than a blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo that was well loved. Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and you were not going to wait that long for him to come home and stop you. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as you walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, you put your headphones on to drown out all outside distractions and blasted your Walkman to formulate how you were going to break into and hotwire your mom’s car (you knew how to do neither of these things).

As you were walking, you heard nothing. Saw only the school entrance doors ahead of you, but that did not mean you were not still jumpy and traumatized from before. You were walking quickly, unaware of the noise you were making and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of your life.

You felt yourself being snagged by the strap of your backpack, an iron grip on your shoulders summoned a scream so loud that it hurt your throat and made you jump nearly ten feet. Your headphones were yanked from your ears, and a low voice with hot breath was in your ear muttering words that would drastically change your life.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”

“FUCK ME FREDDY!”

[baohanhanesel]

Valeria Garza x Ally Reader

Just Valeria and Reader bantering. Valeria likes Reader a bit too much for her own liking.

She always had cold hands. It wasn't anything new to her. She always felt the need to tuck her hands in her pockets but never once did they ever remain warm.

She was used to it. The feeling of cold fingertips was never surprising to her. It was her usual.

It never bothered her until you decided to lean down and take a hold of her gun.

You didn't work for her, you were only a temporary ally. One that never took her bullshit and always acted on your own. She didn't have the best impression of you. Same went for you. You weren't a fan of her, to put it nicely.

"Tuck it down, darling." You told her with a mocking smile. "We are about to negotiate. Not to declare war."

Valeria gave you a cold look, and nodded her head at you. A deadly stare, which sent chills down your spine. Not enough to have you take a step back, but enough to shut your mouth.

"Give it here." Valeria snatched the gun from your hand again. And when she got it back, the handle was warm. She held onto it tightly, the warmth was pleasant against her cold skin.

The comfort it offered her hand bothered her because it came from you.

You were like the damn sun for her. Something she is unable to avoid. You burned everything you touched, and seeing as the saying wasn't only metaphorical made her grumble. The gun in her hand remained warm when she tucked it in the holster again.

"Woke up from the wrong side of the bed, didn't you?" You walked past her, to the meeting room the negotiation will be carried out.

"Aren't you a sweetheart." Valeria rolled her eyes, but followed you suitly.

The negotiation wasn't what you'd call beneficial. The company owners owed you a big sum of money, and they were only putting the payment up. Making you give them more time to bring it. You begrudgingly agreed. You couldn't demand anything in Valeria's presence. You were allies, you didn't want to come off selfish with any decision so you let it go. For now.

"Talk about waking up from the wrong side" Valeria pushed her seat back to look at you, the meeting room emptied before you knew it.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you said, chiquita. ¿No fue así?(Wasn't it?)"

You huffed, rubbing your temples and looking at the key in Valeria's hand. She was playing with it absentmindedly, probably waiting for you to open the topic so you can talk. You didn't feel like discussing business.

You grabbed her key, she grabbed your hand.

"What is it now?" She looked straight into your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth of your hands burning her skin. You felt too comfortable for her liking. You were running warm, and it made Valeria want to curl her fingers in your palm. To warm her entire hand.

"Impulsive thoughts." You smiled. It was a way to say fuck you in Valeria's face. To show that you do what you want to do. You wanted to grab her keys, you did. "Will you let my hand go, darling? I am afraid I am not ready for such commitment yet."

This made Valeria laugh at your face, letting your hand go.

Despite the laugh, she was dreading the feeling. She wanted your hand on her. But knew the consequences of it. Wanting you, the sun, to touch her was a dead wish. You burnt the people you were close to. There was no good that could come her way if it was you. Yet she had this coldness in her, one that could only be warmed up by you.

The next time she felt you again was an entire month later. You grabbed her arm to pull her away from a gunshot. Your hand where it held her burned. You were so warm, and she subconsciously leaned into it.

"Almost lost you there."

"What would you do without me" Valeria grabbed your wrist and ran away with you. Speaking to her coms and trying to take a hold of the situation.

"I knew they'd betray the deal." You grumbled, feeling the cold of Valeria's hand on your wrist. Your skin was warming her, and you could feel the pleasant tingle of her cool skin.

"Malditos idiotas... (Damn morons)"

You held her hand, slipping her hold from your wrist and holding into her cold hand. She was taken aback by the sudden hold. It was a gentle gesture for an outsider, but to both of you it was yet another way to tell fuck you. That she wouldn't lead you, but you would.

Valeria's heart thumped against her chest. She was getting more than she was bargaining for and you wouldn't hear a peep from her if it meant you would be giving her your touch. So she accepted the fuck you and acted nonchalantly.

"I'll have their heads." She said. And you couldn't agree more.

"So you can be romantic," You mused. This wasn't the best thing to say while holding her hand but... It was too late.

"You know nothing, senorita. Let me and I'll show you just how romantic I can be."

"Beg. And maybe I will."

She shook her head, laughing. You were in dangerous waters.

You were away from the commotion, your fingers entangled and shoulders touching. It felt right, Valeria wanted to risk everything just to have more. But it wasn't worth the risk of taking a step closer to you. She preferred to have some of you, rather than nothing at all.

Within another thirty minutes and Valeria talking to her comms, everything settled down. This entire time your hand was on your gun, securing her left and right.

After you were sure the attack was over, you let her go. You walked away to your own men, demanding answers about the sudden commotion.

Valeria still felt the warmth in her hands.

And it didn't cool down for forty minutes. The forty minutes where she couldn't stop thinking about you. The same forty minutes she wanted nothing but to burn if it meant holding you just a bit longer.

[dev1lm4n]

4 + 1

pairings: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader

summary: the apocalypse didn't happen. joel shift jobs into becoming a bodyguard for a billionaire’s wife. four times joel realized he's in love and the one time he actually did something about it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), p in v, no protection, infidelity, implied domestic abuse (not by joel)

notes: this is my fav to write by far ♡ if ur a writer or loves reading, chat me up and let's be moots

Clementine hues of orange sauntered in through the slick frame of her kitchen windows, causing a layer of tinted filtering to be added throughout the boring beige paints littered all around. Everything was in honeyed tones, beautiful and soothing. He had to admit that there was something godly about your kitchen. Something he couldn’t resist.

It was much different compared to the heavy smell of paint and cement he’s smothered in back when he’s still dwelling in construction. Instead of the constant buzz of drilling and swings of hammers into wooden panels, he’s now embraced in an endless collection of Jazz. His shoes are now polished— he could even see his own beaming reflection in the shiny black. A fitted tuxedo snug against the broad of his chest— a total 180° change from his Texan classic style of flannels and denims.

Joel used to think that he’s all too ill-mannered to be participating in the posh bullshit rich families are prone to, but when he saw the ads your husband was posting out, he couldn’t possibly decline the offer. The pay was enough to get Sarah all the way through university without picking up loans and it came with barely a risk.

He was just there to follow a billionaire’s pretty little wife around, carry your bags of impulsive purchases, and drop you off to go drink martinis with your girlfriends. The gun tucked into his back pocket was merely for show. After all, his dirty scowl is usually enough to set people aside. So, he signed the contract and was tied to what he envisioned to be a snobby flashy gal.

But you were an anomaly. 

You were the opposite of the few descriptive words your husband mapped you out as, which he recalled to be ‘bimbo’ and ‘a pain in the ass’. You were lovely. The kind of girl that’d bake your husband a sweet tray of apple pie in your cute little dotted blue apron. He was guilty of watching your every move. Every bend, perk, curve of your body. Because, duh, he had to make sure you weren’t harming yourself. What if you accidentally set a fire off in the stove? At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to fend upon his guilt.

“Come on. Open your mouth, Joel!” you cheered excitedly at the sight of your glistening apple pie, cut open into perfectly eight slices. As the fork pierced through the warm, flaky crust of the apple pie, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air. The crust crumbled ever so slightly as the fork lifted a generous slice, revealing the warm, gooey filling. A persuasive look keen on your face as you raised your fork forward, just a few inches away from his pursed lips.

“I don’t think I should, ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“Your husband’s coming home soon..” he trailed off, uneasy about the increasingly delicate situation.

“So? Married people can’t have friends now?”

You could closely watch his determination waver, because god did your apple pie look good even from a distance. But he shouldn’t be doing this on the job, right? Playing kitchen with you out of all people.

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, we’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head. 

Only to entertain you and play into your own rhythm of things, Joel sank his teeth into the tender apples and buttery crust, sweet flavors exploded on his tongue. The warm, rich filling oozed out of the pie and coated his palate in a heavenly blend of spices and sweetness. What made it better was the shy smile you had on your face, unmarred by what the world had to offer. Your eyes twinkle fondly, sparking what felt like fireworks in his belly.

“Good?”

He simply nodded. Joel chewed slowly, averting his gaze away from you because who knows what he might start to imagine if he’s constantly being presented that view of you.

“Mr. Waterford’s gonna like it,” he reassured.

“Wait. Joel. What does that spell out?”

You enquired, brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of the word he’d just put together on the tiled board. Your lips pursed and you tilted your head slightly to the side, as if trying to get a different perspective. It seemed that your feigned innocence managed to work wonders in your bodyguard’s head, because his brows knitted along with yours, seemingly worried that he might actually get the word incorrectly. It may have been the nth time that you toyed around with him childishly, but it’s not your fault he always had such a silly expression to share each time.

“Darling,” he read the word aloud innocently. Texas twang dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, honey?”

Joel looked away bashfully at your playful banter. You could tell he’s raking his head to find ways to try and guide the conversation back into a safe spot. To maintain professionalism, where his heart doesn’t have to race a million times per second and his palms doesn’t have to turn all clammy from a childish joke. But he’s failing. Miserably at that. He tried to muster up the courage to respond in kind, but his mind went blank, leaving him tongue-tied.

“I’m just joking. You’re not mad, are you?”

Of course, he’s not mad. He could never be angry at you even if you sometimes do the weirdest things he could ever think of, like that one time last week where you decided you should try out every single barbeque sauce available in the supermarket. You’re just too sweet to be angry at. Snow could melt if you were there beaming that same dear smile of yours, miracles could happen if it was you. Joel thought that this was his punishment. A karma for all the terrible things he did throughout his twenties, the girls he fiddled and the money he possibly swindled. It’s hard to watch you and not be able to put his hands on you. It’s unfair.

“No,” he whispered vaguely as he drew more tiles from the messy pile. Joel looked amazingly dedicated for a bodyguard who’s being forced to play Scrabble with his employer’s wife— you found it hilarious, which resulted in the delicate giggle you uttered.

“Why don’t you hang out with your actual friends, Mrs. Waterford?”

You frowned.

“First of all, never call me by his name. Second, why do you care so much about who I hang out with?” you seethed out petulantly.

Even when you’re throwing a silly tantrum, he still looked at you as if you held out the sun and the moon. As if you’re the beginning and the end, but you weren’t going to assume what might just be a figment to your foolish imaginations.

“Sorry. I just.. I don’t have to play the dutiful, elegant wife when I’m here. I don’t have to pretend like I enjoy tea times and chalky macarons.”

You hate playing dress up when you’re just there to be your husband’s little pet. Ready to serve him at your every move. It’s suffocating to pretend like you’re content with how your life turned out to be, to giggle at condescending jokes other wives make, or to let your husband degrade you in front of other members of the high society. You felt like a mannequin and you’d rather be here, comforted in your own qualms with Joel. Simple ol’ Joel from Texas who took such good care of you.

“I can’t say I understand.”

Joel chuckled, thinking back to his rather ordinary background. He didn’t think he ever had to participate in any social events unwillingly, except when his mom dragged him to church on Sundays when he was younger, but that was different. You were in another realm. Someone who’s not equal to him.

“Although, I’m glad you feel at ease with me.”

He’s so good with his words, you sometimes wonder if those sweet compliments actually meant a thing. You simmered at his encouragement.

Tonight marks the evening of the Annual Spring Ball. Joel, being the country boy that he is, didn’t have much clue regarding what significance this particular event held. Although, he guessed that it was a big thing considering the pile of dresses you’ve dumped carelessly in front of your walk-in closet. You’re always so messy. Maybe he liked that about you.

He stood aimlessly, feeling like a nervous boy waiting for his prom partner to reveal themselves. It crept from inside his stomach and the grip it had on his throat grew tighter and tighter the longer you took in that damned dressing room. You’re not even going with him to this presumptuous event. You’re going with your damn husband, so why is he getting ahead of himself?

“What do ya think?”

You came bursting out of the pale blue curtains like a ray of sunshine, cladded with a long fitted evening gown. He was convinced that black belonged to you. The gown was made of flowing, luxurious fabric that draped elegantly down the womanly curves of your hips.

He couldn’t help but take a peek down your classic plunging neckline, like a fucking pervert. A flattering scoop that showed off your delicate collarbone and décolletage. Viewing a glimpse of your soft mounds propped up by the tailored bodice had him shifting from one leg to the other. God, you looked like a goddess blessed you personally. Waterford is a lucky man having you by his side.

“Is it too much?”

“No. It’s just..”

Joel swallowed thickly. How he wished he could say how you’d stolen his heart and robbed him of common sense.

“You look beautiful. Mr. Waterford would’ve-”

“Can we not speak of my husband?”

You interrupted bitterly. He wasn’t sure if he saw it correctly, but he could see a look of solemn ghosting over your sweet features. How you suddenly stop being all chirpy and instead, settle on chewing your inner lip. Joel was worried and it took all of him not to prod into whatever it is you’re hiding behind all the kind and warm facade. He was simply your bodyguard and that’s all he’ll ever be so why impose?

“Will you help me with my pearls?”

“Of course.”

He swiftly walked over to the jewelry case he’s grown accustomed to, not because he ever had thoughts of stealing your precious belongings, more so because you’ve allowed him to enter and assist you in your bedroom way too often. He’s memorized every inch of the blush tinted room without fail, maybe because he was a good help or maybe.. because he’s undeniably infatuated in you. With much precision, he held the shiny pearls in between his rough fingers. Only to gently clasp the chain around your neck. The ghost of his fingers on your bare skin made you shudder in anticipation.

He might’ve overstepped his boundaries by tracing over the exposed skin of your back, feeling the bumps of your spinal cords as if he’s a professional harpist. His gaze settled on where you felt the most plush and smooth. How he wished he could feel more of you; was the rest of your unexposed skin this delicate? Did you like this?

A pregnant silence enveloped the both of you. A mutual understanding. You were nervous, enough that you could listen to how your heart pumped blood into your increasingly warm cheeks.

“What is this?”

He broke the sacred silence at the irregular hues blooming from beneath the velvet fabric. Blues, purples, some were still inflamed, red marring your sacred skin. You were bruised. Bad. His eyes went wide at the sight of permanent scars shaped like a long rod buried deep in your skin, the new skin much lighter than your skin tone. If he weren’t attentive, he would’ve missed the way it hid underneath the hemlines. 

The worst part was you didn’t say anything. Just showcasing him the same ol’ smile as you turned.

Ever since he saw your marks, the ones you’ve tried your very best to cover and withheld from the world, you’ve avoided him more than ever. Joel Miller was specifically assigned to you. To cater to your every need and protect you from the danger you might encounter, but it’s hard to do his job properly when the danger was from within.

He’s seen the way you lock your doors in his presence, leaving him uneasy as he guarded in front of your door. He’s also noticed how you stopped baking sweet apple pies, quit picking the juicy strawberries in your garden, and were lost in your own thoughts more often than anything. Maybe you’ve had enough of playing house with the lousy bodyguard he was. Maybe he was too old, too wrinkly, and too nosy for your taste.

“Joel?”

“Yes,” he answered almost too eagerly at the pleasant call of his name. His puppy-like brown eyes peaked through the small crack of your door.

“Come in. I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise for him? Didn’t you hate him? Joel looked almost entranced at the sudden knowledge. He took a determined step into your room, your wooden door creaking close behind him. You narrowed your eyes to strengthen your vision towards his striking figure. Without shame, you took in all of him. You’ve missed him as much as you hated to admit. Joel was a crucial part to your daily life. He’s a breath of fresh air. The only thing keeping you alive when you’re caged in this mansion.

“Winter’s coming.”

“It is,” he spoke softly, out-of-breath at the sight of you in your nightgown. His pupils dilated erratically at what you’ve blessed him with.

“I knitted you and Sarah matching scarfs.”

You pulled out the most beautiful pair of scarfs out of your side table, decorated with your favorite shades of ballet pink and powder blue. It wasn’t the cleanest work out there. A few loose and uneven threads here and there, but it was the most someone has ever done to him in a very long time.

It felt sincere and heartfelt. You even knitted one for his daughter who he’d only mention briefly during your time together. Once during your weekly Scrabble game and the other time when he entertained you during a house party. He smoothed the thick fabric down, tears pricking his eyes from the emotions budding from within.

“Are you seriously crying?”

You chuckled at the sight, arms crossed in front of your chest at the sight of your tough and grouchy bodyguard tearing up over some scarf. Joel meant more to you than you could ever admit. Maybe this’ll show him that part of you, just enough that your husband would never notice and you could still play it off as an act of kindness.

“That’s so lame, Joel.”

Fact is.. you were magnetic. The sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed in his long thirty six years of life, yet you’re stuck here playing wife of Waterford. Joel wanted to be your knight in shining armor and bring you to safety where he’d cherish you all his life, but what could he do? Should he just witness you wither away into an empty shell? The thought brought up the long awaited bravado and he was already bringing you up into his arms. Wrapping you in a tight embrace where all he could feel was you and only you. The softness of your pliant body, the smell of strawberries and cinnamon, and your undeniable warmth.

“You’re not happy,” he muttered underneath his breath, brows knitted and wrinkles evident.

“I will be.”

You paused.

“I have to be.”

You reassured him, pulling away from his grasp slightly. Your longing eyes bored into him with a tinge of emotion he couldn’t quite decipher, but it all became clear when you finally kissed him. You tasted better than he could ever imagine.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

His voice was tantalizing, the rough bristles of his scruff tickling the curve of your earlobes in a manner that made you feel small. You couldn’t really pipe up a sweet comeback to what he had to say. Not when you’re pinned face down onto your fresh floral sheets, the same one you’ve spent countless nights with your estranged husband.

The crisp fabric felt cool and smooth on your squished cheek, you could even smell the lingering notes of softener wafted through the air. Joel caged you in like some sort of feral animal. Thick muscular thighs pressing next to your own as he loomed over you.

“You’re driving me insane, darlin’. Bending over with that silly knitted dress of yours.”

He murmured out into the junction of your neck. Always so careful with you, he made sure to smooth down every inch of your pristine skin, over each and every one of your scars and marks. His fingers were electric, jolting you every time he made bare contact.

You whined a soft tone when he pulled the wool hem of your dress upwards. Leaving your perky butt exposed to the cold air with nothing on but the panties you’ve chosen specifically for him. The one with the pretty pink bow and lace rimming each side; the one you knew he’s secretly pocketed a few times.

“Fuck. Such a pretty cunt. Is this for me or for Waterford?”

You were just too good to be true. Someone so perfect like you was willing to let him have a taste of what heaven on earth was, even when your husband was downstairs mingling with the other party guests. Joel was ecstatic at the thought. His eyes twinkled with obsession as he pulled your panties aside, probing a finger into your sloppy hole. One of his fingers was swallowed whole by your throbbing cunt and all he could hear was the loud squelching noise it made. It was as if you hadn’t been filled to the brim for a very long time. What a waste.

“For you. Only for you, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t hide the smugness running deep in his expression, pulling onto each corner his mustache. The constant need to prove himself to you tipped him over the edge. He wanted to be gentle with you, to be kind and cautious, because you were his everything, but it’s harder when he’s already leaking in his boxers. Seven inch, uncut, and sensitive. His fat cock thrived at the thought of you aching beneath him.

“He didn’t fuck you well, did he? Left you all wet for me.”

He teased sweetly as he unzipped his pants eagerly, only to tug at his waistband swiftly. Joel felt the adrenaline rushing through his headspace. It might be fucked up but somehow he wanted to prove how good he is for you, how he’d let your husband barge in if it meant proving how you’re such a good fit for his girth.

At the thought, Joel leaned forward to nip at your pulse point. You whined for more. He cooed softly, making sure you were slick enough as he flicked his cock along your needy slit. His thick raspy groans were heavenly, yet sinful for you to hear. You’re married for goodness sake.

“Put it in me, Joel. Fuck me. Please. Now.”

Your incoherent begging was music to his ears, enough that he gave in to your requests. He prodded his leaking tip into your entrance. Joel was unable to hide his pleasure, lashes fluttering as he rolled his hips in one sharp movement. He had to stop immediately once he’s buried deep in your velvety walls. Knowing he’d burst if he was to continue. He let out a breathy chuckle, grounding himself with all his might.

“Joe-el!”

That’s all you could muster as you pushed your hips further back into his, babbling hopeless pleads in hopes that he’d move and solve the everlasting coiling need. Such a slut.

“I got you, darlin’”

He held you steady by the small of your hips, adding ample pressure to have you arching back nicely. Joel fulfilled his promise by sheathing himself entirely within you. Slick and sloppy, he pounded into you. You’re on cloud nine. Desperately muffling his name into your bed sheets as if it’d make a difference in the boundaries you’ve crossed on this eventful day.

The golden ring band encircling your finger taunted you whilst it glimmered underneath the dim lights: all about your failing marriage and your stupid affair. You knew this wasn’t going to last long. Hell, things could fall apart if your husband caught a whiff of Joel’s cedar cologne on you.

“Stay with me, please, darlin’”

Joel looped his tough arms over your chest, effectively straightening you upright against his firm chest. His tip probed deeper inside you at the new position, exploring places you didn’t think was possible. You couldn’t see him and you thought it might be better. For you didn’t have to remember how unbelievably hot he looked while fucking you from behind; you’d worry his name would slip in your head when Waterford finally required you to cater to his needs.

“Run away with me.”

He tried once more and you had to say, it was quite a romantic gesture to attempt when he’s twitching vulgarly inside you. There was a sense of need in his voice. He’s begging you to leave all this luxury and royalty behind for the love he had to offer. What was it.. modern times Romeo & Juliet? You let out an airy moan in response, backing up even further to fulfill your burning desire. The coily dark trim on the base of his slick cock scraped your soft skin. He’s inside you entirely. Without any barrier because god did he secretly want to pump you full of cum. Maybe he'll let you wander back onto your husband's arms with his cum still stuffed deep within you.

“I can’t.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as his grip tightened around your wrist. His nails dug out crescent shape marks into your skin uncomfortably.

“Joel. Shit. Don’t move.”

He obeyed. A small grin taking over when he witnessed the shake of your legs and how you looked heavenly even when you’re seconds away from climaxing. He relished in the way your tongue cutely darted out like a dog in heat. You’re still cute even when you’re all spread out for him.

“I love you.”

He whispered once more, voice fleeting against your ear. Joel needed to kiss you. Needed to feel your soft lips on him for what might be the last time. His nimble fingers gently guide your jaw to turn his way, wrapping you in such an emotional kiss. As if you’d wither away if he didn’t hold you down tight enough.

“Please say it back, darlin’. Please?”

And just like that, he submitted to your wishes and let the mighty dam fall apart. A soft groan you’ve never heard before mused out his parted lips. He’s filling you up so full with a taste of him to the point that it’s leaking out each side of your thighs. A white rim left behind. Tonight he thought that maybe white belonged to you as well, just like black did.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[babytarttdoodoo]

The team somehow find out about what Jamie’s dad did in Amsterdam and are horrified/furious.

I’m skipping ahead to write this one because it won’t leave my brain alone. I apologise to all readers for the pain this is about to inflict.

If it makes you feel better, I am not okay after writing it.

It will also be in multiple parts since I really feel like the Reveal and the Reaction are things that need separate room to breathe.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (pending)

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

It came down to the timing, really.

Every locker room Jamie had ever been in had worked its way around to this topic sooner or later. Especially in the Academy, where the typical teenaged obsession with ‘who had done it’ reigned supreme.

Jamie had never had a problem with it. He’d shrugged or laughed or lied and no one ever called him out. He was Jamie Fucking Tartt, after all.

He’d never had to breathe a word about Amsterdam.

Telling Roy had been a spur of the moment decision, and one that hadn’t really bothered him at the time. It hadn’t fundamentally altered their friendship or made Roy tiptoe around him (thank fuck).

But his reaction - Jesus. Must have been traumatising. - had played on Jamie’s mind. So much so that when his talks with Dr Sharon had broached the subject of ‘intimacy’, he thought it was probably worth bringing up.

Yeah. That conversation had gone a bit differently.

And now, here Jamie was, two days into processing his freshly unpacked trauma and his teammates were cheerfully regaling each other with stories about losing their virginity.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“It was my last night before flying out here.” Sam was telling the group, a sweet, bashful smile on his face.

“Didn’t know you’d had a girlfriend back home.” Isaac chimed in.

“We had already decided to break up, instead of doing the whole long-distance thing,” Sam explained. “It was a nice way to say goodbye, though.”

There was a general sound of agreement and Richard took the opportunity to launch into a questionable story about charming a runway model at the ripe age of 17.

Jamie just continued getting changed in silence, letting the voices wash over him and trying not to let the sudden nausea show on his face. Removing his jersey felt like a Herculean task when all he wanted to do was get the fuck out of here.

Sam’s experience sounded like something out of one of Ted’s rom-coms. That was good. That’s what someone as nice as Sam deserved.

What had Jamie deserved, then?

He quickly cut off that line of thought. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to think about it. Not here. Not now.

It was like trying to cover up an open wound when everyone else had a morbid impulse to poke at it.

A ripple of laughter pulled him back to the room and set his teeth on edge. He pulled a fresh shirt over his head and tried to breathe through the swelling, pulsating anger and shame that threatened to surface.

It was utter bullshit. He hadn’t thought about what had happened with anything more than vague disgust and detachment for years. A whole decade, even. Fuck Dr Sharon and Roy and all these giggling idiots for changing that.

“Oi, you’ve gone quiet, Jamie.”

A few curious eyes turned in his direction and the only thing that stopped him from shrinking away was years of playing at being untouchable.

Instead, Jamie scoffed and plastered on a smile, hiding his fists in his clothes and digging his nails as deep into his palms as they would go. “Eh, a gentleman never tells, mate.”

But he had hesitated a second too long and he saw the potential for mischief light up in a few faces. They knew him too well, he realised, the knowledge churning in his gut.

He wasn’t Jamie Fucking Tartt here. He was just Jamie.

“You are not a gentleman.” Richard stated bluntly, eyebrows raised and a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“That is true.” Jan agreed, because of course he fucking did. “You have bragged many times about being with women.”

“What happened, amigo?” It wasn’t fucking fair that Dani sounded so genuinely interested.

“Maybe she didn’t like his pink pants.” Isaac threw in and it drew another round of laughter. The noise echoed in Jamie’s head.

He knew, he knew they were just teasing because they didn’t know better. They were being dickheads because they were always kind of dickheads to each other. It was banter. On any other day it would be fine.

His neon underwear had nearly caused a riot the week before and it had been hilarious.

Why couldn’t he just act like it was funny now?

“It’s none of your fucking business.” he finally managed, not quite keeping the harsh edge out of his tone. He turned away and pretended to be looking for something in his bag so he wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes.

“C’mon, mate, can’t be more embarrassing than mine.” Colin added easily, utterly comfortable with the conversation, in spite of all the implications it had for him specifically. Jamie really fucking admired that.

He was ridiculously, fiercely envious of it.

“Guys, he doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.” Sam admonished lightly. He was offering him a liferaft and it rankled at Jamie in all the wrong ways.

He didn’t need fucking saving. He wasn’t some soft, delicate little thing that needed Sam Obisanya of all people rushing to his rescue.

Suddenly, he was speaking without having made any conscious decision to do so.

“14.” Jamie’s voice was too loud, too sharp in this safe space that on any other day felt like home. But his fingers were clenching and unclenching, and his shoulders were coiled tight, and there was a rushing in his ears.

The vitriol pooled like acid on his tongue and Jamie couldn’t help but spew it out before it began to eat him away.

“I were 14.” He smirked and it felt wrong. It felt cruel and bitter. He rounded on Colin and relished in the flicker of unease that crossed his face. “No fucking idea how old she were but I can tell you how much my dad paid for her to fuck me straight.”

The silence should have been oppressive, he thought distantly. The way the air stilled should have made it hard to breathe. The colour leaching from not just Colin’s face, but Jan’s and Richard’s on either side, should have been concerning.

It just felt freeing, in a twisted, emptying sort of way.

“Jamie-”

“No! No, it’s alright!” Jamie turned wild eyes and a manic grin on Sam, finding it abstractly funny that the younger player took a step back. “You wanted details, right?”

He shrugged, looking around at the slack faces of his teammates. He’d moved forward, he realised, making himself the centre of attention. Typical.

“Tell you what, yeah? Next time we’re in Amsterdam, I’ll take you all on a little tour. Don’t remember her name but I’m pretty sure I could find the place again, no problem.”

And he probably could. He remembered his dad talking to some bloke smoking in a doorway while Jamie stood in the rain, confused. He remembered loud people and neon lights all around. He remembered how the place had smelled when he’d been pulled inside…

Someone else was saying his name now. He didn’t care. He just got louder.

“You wanted a show, didn’t you Thierry? We could put on a repeat performance. Play-by-play reenactment, ‘cept you’ve got to think I can do better now, right? Better with age and all that.”

Arms closed around him from behind and whatever vile shit he was about to spray out into the atmosphere died in his throat. Jamie’s entire body bucked, trying to break away.

“Fuck off!”

It didn’t sound like his voice, a screeching snarl that cracked partway through.

“Jamie.” Roy’s voice in his ear. Roy’s arms around his chest. “Jamie. Stop. Don’t make it worse.”

And what response was there to that except to laugh? Fucking hilarious, that one. Too little too fucking late.

Jamie only registered that he was being half pulled, half carried out of the locker room when the laughter started to hitch in his chest. When the air wasn’t coming like it was supposed to. When Roy manhandled him into an office chair and the tears started in earnest.

All the fight went out of him like a marionette with its strings cut and he just cried.

(TBC)