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iamnotoriginalphil · 4 months

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Request: some jealous Rebecca Welton x oblivious reader where reader just cannot tell when someone is flirting with her one of the many reasons also why it took so long for Rebecca and reader to officially start dating

Jealousy

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: some swearing

Rebecca’s fingers tightened around the pen in her hand, the plastic groaning from the pressure. She ignored it, eyes trained on your figure. Your laugh made her heart thump hard behind her rib cage, the bruise left in its wake due to not being the one to coax that laugh from you. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, listening to Isaac as you lent closer.

His arm slid over your shoulders, leading you further down the hallway. Something ugly gnawed at Rebecca’s stomach. She had to turn away or risk hurting someone. Taking some deep breaths, she peeked over her shoulder. You were looking back at her, not realising the way Isaac’s eyes were sweeping down your body.

The smile you gave her was brighter than any you’d given Isaac. Her own lips curled up, an unconscious response, never able to not give in to the impulse when it came to you.

Extracting yourself from Isaac, you said something quietly before making your way to Rebecca’s side. Isaac’s eyes lingered on your retreating back, dipping down to follow the sway of your hips. She bit back her growl, that ugly feeling sink its teeth into her stomach again.

“Hi,” you said, looking up into her face, your smile broad.

“What did Isaac want?” she asked, knowing her voice was harsher than she intended.

“Oh, he was inviting me to the party tonight. Why didn’t you tell me about it? Apparently all of the guys want me there,” you said, “you’re going right?”

“Of course I am,” she replied, despite having previously declined an invitation. A groups of sweaty football players in a darkened room with loud music was hardly her idea of an enjoyable evening. You in a darkened room, however, was a different matter altogether. Especially if that room was full of sweaty football players with testicles bigger than the size of their brains.

Your smile widened and your eyes sparkled. You reached out, hand landing against her forearm, burning through the silk of her blouse. You bounced onto your toes, face drawing just a bit closer to hers.

“You’ll really come?” you asked.

“For you, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, just waiting for the words to hit your brain. She could see the moment it did. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you tried to contain your grin and you were looking at her like she hung the moon.

“Tonight is going to be ace,” you said, letting her arm go, “I’m going to go buy something to wear. I’ll see you later tonight.”

She felt bereft as you stepped back, taking one then another away from her. You waved to the guys before pushing out of the door into the sunlight that swallowed you up. You glanced back, just long enough to meet her eye, flashing her another one of your bright smiles. The way it warmed her, you could have been the sun that flooded into her club.

She was distracted the rest of the day, the image of the boys flirting with you distracting her from her work. Who could focus on contracts when those very men were trying to steal you from her? Your bright smile was meant to be turned in her direction, not laughing at one of the boys dirty jokes.

“Hey good looking,” Keeley said, strutting into the room, “why are you wearing ‘someone’s going to die but I’ll look fit while doing it’ face?”

“I’ll give you three guesses,” she said.

“The boys invited her to the party?” she asked.

“Yes, and now I have to go or wonder which of them are putting their dirty mitts on her,” she replied, lips pursing.

“You know she’s crazy about you. You don’t have to worry,” Keeley said, nudging her.

“I’m not worried about her. It’s them I’m not happy with. I don’t like them… thinking they have a shot with her,” she said, hands flapping as she tried to put into words her anger.

“So you need to look hot tonight. Show them there’s no competition. A bunch of sweaty hairy guys? They’ve got nothing on you,” she said, “you’re well fit.”

“Thanks,” she said, a small chuckle on her lips, “you really think I have nothing to worry about?”

“Come on, Rebecca. She looks at you like you’re the greatest thing she’s ever seen. There’s literally not even a competition going on,” Keeley replied.

“You’re right. Of course your right,” she said, “I should wear the red dress, shouldn’t I?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rebecca laughed, head tipping back, the vestiges of her jealousy seeping away. Of course she had nothing to worry about. It’s not as if you were going to the party with Isaac. You’d asked her if she was going. It mattered to you.

So why, when she arrived, did Isaac have his stupid hairy arm around your shoulder, passing you a drink while you smiled up at him?

She did her best to ignore it, striding past to find her own drink, missing the way your eyes lingered on her. Something not in a plastic cup if she could avoid it. She hadn’t done that since her university days. She wasn’t about to start doing that again, just to be like the boys.

She rifled through the cupboards to find a glass to pour some of the cheap wine into. With a sigh, she took a long drink from it, just able to see you through the door. The moment your gaze landed on her it was like electricity struck. Your eyes lit up and you ducked out from under Isaac’s arm, practically tripping over yourself to reach her side.

“You came,” you said, beaming up at her.

“Of course. I told you I would,” she said.

“Yeah, but I mean this isn’t really your scene,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at the dim living room. You snorted when you saw the boys.

“Anywhere you are is my scene,” she said.

Your smile brightened, “aw, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

You hauled yourself up onto the counter, legs swinging, heels kicking against the wooden doors. The skirt of your dress lifted, skin on display making her feel crazy. She longed to touch it, to feel your skin against her fingertips as she dragged them upwards until you moaned her name.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you said, “it’s nice not being the only girl. Keeley said she was coming later but when she does Jamie is going to up the idiocy and then Roy will growl and Keeley will be distracted. It’s nice to have someone bring a bit of class to this thing. Plus, you’re like my favourite person so know I won’t have to leave early to see you.”

“You don’t want all those boys to yourself?” she asked, sidling up to you, arm brushing your leg.

“Them?” you scoffed, “you’re clearly the best one here.”

“Well, after you,” she said.

Your smile was so pretty when you looked at her. Sitting on the counter, your were face to face with her, something she didn’t often get to enjoy. You shifted closer, leaning into her. She did her best not feel flustered at the feeling of your arm pressing against hers. Even after all this time, she still felt like a girl in the grips of her first crush.

“You know, if you wanted to, we could-“

“There you are,” Sam interrupted, walking into the kitchen, “I was hoping to see you here.”

“Sam,” you said, turning that smile on the young football player.

You reached over, pulling him into a hug. She didn’t want to focus on how easy it was for you, doling out your affection.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, drawing back as his eyes slid over your body.

“Oh this old thing,” you giggled.

“You really do. You’re lighting up the room,” he said.

“Thanks Sam,” you said, teeth sinking down into your lower lip.

“Come, there is dancing. Someone as beautiful as you should be shown off.” He held out his hand to you.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, “I might just stay here and talk to Rebecca.”

“We need your radiance to remind us to be civilised. A pretty girl like you should be dancing,” he said.

“Really. I’m okay,” you said, “but you go have fun for me.”

“I must insist. You dance with an elegance the rest of us can only dream of,” he said.

“Well, if you’re insisting.”

You took his hand, letting him help you down from the counter. Rebecca opened her mouth to say something then snapped it shut, not wanting to ruin your fun. She lingered in the doorway, watching as Sam’s hands landed on your hips and your head tipped back as you laughed. Her fingers continued to tighten on the glass in her hand. She downed the wine in one swig.

You spun from Sam’s arms, straight into Dani’s. You were laughing and he was holding you closer and Montclaur was eyeing you up. She turned, leaving you be, needing another drink. Scooping up the bottle of wine she’d poured from earlier, she left her glass in the sink and slipped out the back door.

The garden was small, just a bit of grass and a few chairs. She sunk into one, not bothering to think about the dirt she’d be getting on her dress by sitting. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she let herself have a moment to wallow. She wanted that attention on her, to be in your atmosphere.

She tipped her head back, looking up at the night sky. A few stars winked down at her, just seen through a small gap in the clouds. Sighing, she took another drink. She knew it wasn’t the same as with Rupert, that you weren’t the one going around hitting on anything that moved. But the old insecurities were rising again.

She knew all the reasons you shouldn’t be with her. She’d been on cloud nine since the first time you’d kissed her but even then she’d known that she didn’t deserve you. She was no better than Rupert, going after a younger woman. A young woman who shone so brightly of course everyone else was drawn to you. She took another long drink.

“There you are.”

You were standing just outside the door, your arms curled around your body. Given your dress was skin tight, she could see the way you were shivering. You walked towards her, your smile bright despite how cold you looked.

“Why are you out here?” you asked.

She held out a hand to you, drawing you closer. You didn’t hesitate to settle yourself on her lap, curling an arm around her neck. Her own hand rested on your hip, the other gentle as it rested on your thigh. Skin on bare skin was enough to make her crave you with every fibre of her being.

“Baby?” you asked.

“You seemed busy so I decided to get some air,” she replied, not wanting to admit just how much she couldn’t bare to watch you dance with those men.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked, snuggling closer to her.

“Not with you here,” she replied, “you’re warming me up.”

Your lips pressed to her cheek, soft and chaste. Her fingers tightened on your thigh, a reflex to the feeling. You hummed, your lips ghosting over her skin, pressing to spot under her jaw that you knew drove her wild. Her sharp inhalation of breath was a surprise to her and yet she was melting under your touch.

“I love this dress on you,” you murmured into her skin, “you look so hot.”

She flushed from the compliment.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really out here?” you asked, “did the boys make you feel unwelcome since you’re the boss?”

“No,” she sighed, tipping her head back, giving you better access.

“Please, Rebecca,” you pleaded, drawing back, looking at her with those big eyes, swimming with concern. She cursed under her breath, knowing she couldn’t say no to you, not when you were looking at her like that.

“I don’t like the way the boys flirt with you,” she admitted.

“They boys? They’re not flirting,” you said, shaking your head.

“Of course they are. Isaac can’t keep his hands off you. Sam was drooling over you in the kitchen. Montclaur was leering at you. I heard Dani asking you on a date. They’re not even hiding it from me, the fuckers,” she said, looking back up at the night sky.

“They’re just being nice,” you brushed off.

“They’re fucking not,” she snapped.

You drew away from her and guilt curdled in her stomach. There was no point getting angry at you. It wasn’t your fault. You were so gorgeous it was no wonder everyone you met wanted you. She had. It would be hypocritical to not understand why other people would want you.

“Baby, are you jealous?” you asked.

“No,” slipped from her too fast to convince anyone, “yes. It’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important,” you said, “I don’t want you feeling like this over nothing. You know I have no interest in any of those boys, right? They’re all hairy and sweaty and gross.”

“Really?” she asked, hating that she needed the reassurance.

“No one even comes close to comparing with you. You’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. And the most beautiful. Like, if I could I’d be with you all the time. I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” You gently cupped her cheek in your warm palm, “I love you, Rebecca. No one is going to change that.”

“You love me?” Those words were branded into her brain, none of the rest of it penetrating after that.

“I was planning on telling you at a nicer place than this but yeah. I love you. I thought you might have figured it out already. I don’t think I’m very good at hiding it.” You gave a little self conscious chuckle, “but I love you so much and so I don’t want you to worry that one of those boys could ever steal me away. You’re the only one for me.”

She stared down at you, not able to comprehend that you loved her. That you were choosing her. That you wanted her. You were smiling, so close to her, looking so beautiful, loving her. Your smile dimmed a little and she realised she hadn’t said anything for too long.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

Your grin returned as you lent forward. Your lips brushed hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from pulling you in further, her tongue running along your bottom lip. You moaned into her mouth and she knew she could spend the rest of her life listening to that noise.

Someone wolf-whistled and you drew away, ignoring the way she tried to pull you closer again. Looking over your shoulder, she was ready to tell off whichever of the boys was interrupting her time with you. Keeley was grinning at the two of you, sparkling like the amazing woman she was, leaning in the doorway.

“Keep it in your pants, Welton,” she called, making her way towards the two of you, “leave some for the rest of us.”

“Very funny,” she called back.

You giggled, pressing your face into her shoulder, doing your best to stifle them. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head. She wasn’t ever going to get tired of this.

“Looks like you two are having fun,” she said, perching on one of the other chairs.

“We are,” you said, emerging from your hidden spot. She tightened her arm around your waist, making you press closer.

“We could get out of here, if you want to,” she murmured into your ear.

“Okay,” you said, “but can we get some ice cream on the way back to your place?”

“Of course.”

You climbed off her lap, holding out a hand for her. You tangled your fingers together, tugging her away from the chairs. Rebecca passed the wine bottle over to Keeley, leading you towards the gate to let you out of the backyard.

“Have fun you two,” Keeley said, giving a salacious wink as she passed you to re-eneter the house.

Having you leave with her, sliding into her car, smiling at her like she was the greatest thing you’d ever seen, it was enough to make her not even able to remember why she’d been so jealous earlier. Of course you’d choose her. You loved her.

There was absolutely no one to be jealous of.

#rebecca welton #rebecca welton x reader #rebecca welton imagine

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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what if König has a wifey that’s just obsessed with a specific artist!! she gets hyped when new albums are released, cries listening to their sad songs, can ramble for hours about their whole career progression and make in depth lyric analysis.

And who would do ANYTHING to see their favourite artist performing live. Literally anything. Like, 100% willing to take part in könig’s deepest, darkest fantasies just as long as he gets her tickets to the latest tour (and maybe some tour merch lol)

Would he be jealous of wifey being so invested in someone else or would he take advantage of her obsession to endear her to him?

This can go two ways!! If the wifey is obsessed with a band/a solo singer who is a female, Konig wouldn't really mind too much. He will buy you those expensive tickets if they are touring in Europe(he doesn't want you to go too far away from him, and the cross-continental flights are too much trouble even with his money and citizenship), will give you his card to buy some merch and honestly wouldn't mind you blasting the songs in the house. He has Opinions about the music he likes - mostly German hard rock, obvi, he was raised on this stuff, at first as a rebellion, and later came to really embrace it, but he won't mind you and your music tastes. Even if it's something basic like Taylor Swift or Lana Del Rey or Mitski, etc, he wouldn't honestly mind. Would like you to listen to his music, but if anything, your obsession with some girlie pop female singer only fuels his adoration for you. You're so cute and obsessive, he can't have enough!! If you like a band or a solo singer that is a man...oh boy. Konig googles the easiest way to kill a celebrity, preferably blasting the whole stage altogether. He knows that his being jealous of some singer is ridiculous...he also doesn't care. He tries to see the comparison between him and the guy you're obsessed with. 90% chance that they don't look alike at all - and it makes him worried, because what if you were to pursue someone like your favorite band boy?? he won't allow you to go to the concert, oh no, these places are too dangerous!! Too many people and too much possibility of mass attack or targeted assassination, you need to stay home! He won't falter even with your puppy eyes, his desire to keep you with him is too much( You'd have to promise you're definitely not leaving Konig, you just like the music and want to support your favorite artist...he will be so obnoxious and rude, not even realizing it - he is blasting your music tastes and probably leaving you crying after( your tears are the only thing that will kinda make him reconsider - but still, no concerts. Maybe a few posters and special edition disks, but please don't forget about your husband, he needs you to tell him how in love you are with him!! If that would mean sucking his cock like a good girl and stopping whining when he asks for cockwarming while he is playing or watching TV...you want those special merch thingies, right? And maybe, if you're good enough and play with your ass a little, he might consider buying a ticket...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig

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circeyoru · 3 months

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Hello~ Small thing but I’ve been thinking about Alastor in the Unwanted Soul series trying to get Reader to sing and dance with him. I feel like Reader would refuse to do that stuff but sometimes he catches them humming, especially anime OSTs lol. He doesn’t know what song it is but he’s happy to hear it anyway.

OH OH AND HE’D BE REALLY HAPPY IF THEY ABSENTMINDEDLY HUMMED A SONG HE’S PLAYED AROUND THE HOUSE BEFORE. He’d be so touched, like, they like the music he likes lol. Even better if they heard the song between him and Vox over the radio/TV and was humming that or any other song Alastor sang.

Sorry, just wanted to talk about that cuz obviously music and singing is really big in Hell and Alastor clearly loves that stuff. He’d be psyched if Reader enjoyed his songs or joined in with him but it’s highly unlikely Reader would actually sing or dance with him. I love this series and I agree with the other Anon that this is my favorite series. I keep checking your blog for updates. Thank you for writing for us!

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

I'm literally treating these asks as trivia. Interesting but too small of a part to put in the story.

But, thanks for your words! Really!! I'm happy writing these parts and answering your questions for this! I can't stop saying that I never expected this series to blow up like this. so THANK YOU guys again!! (I need to learn more 'thank you' words...)

Back to the ask.

Now Reader/you are something that has a thing for music. There's no specific type you like but if it vibes with you, you like it. You're aware that Hell's a musical place, you got quite the shock when Lucifer first sang to you when he was trying to convince you to live. Yeah, awkward...

You just accepted it afterwards.

Ho ho, you hum and sing. On the spur of the moment. You even dance too, your memories good that you can replicate dance moves after vibing with the song and dance chorepgraphy. You did it anytime at home.

That is, before Alastor came into your life.

You kept these to yourself, or you would shut the door and ward off Alastor with your pages. Then you can do it. Sing and dance. But, of course, Alastor knew this little habit of yours and didn't point it out so he could enjoy it without you taking more measures to hide it. You hum in front of him, while he doesn't know what music you were humming, he enjoys it altogether.

This breaks when Alastor gives you his soul. It was a somewhat normal day, the trigger point was you putting your foot down and telling (not asking) him to leave. He just breaks off into a song, specifically *Stalker's Tango*. Take it as an intimidation tactic, but he was being very convincing. You were aware of his love for you and want for your attention, so it wasn't scary but annoying to you. (hope you guys read part 4 already) You return his declaration with a song of your own *I Can't Decide*, you accepted his soul to show him his mistake, not knowing that it was his plan for you to care for him.

Yeah, Alastor was eating it all up. The fact that you counter with a song too. Music to his ears. The fact that you were thinking this much about him. It's good. A good start.

You know how his radio could talk and play tracks (in the pilot)? Now Alastor plays romantic songs here and there in your home, though careful not to drown out your videos and music. He did a double take when he heard a double of the songs he was playing, it came from your room, then there was your soft humming. He'd lean against the wall next to your door and listen with a fond smile. He was aware that you could more easily do things on your own, like searching up the songs he played without asking him, then here you were enjoying it in secret. He won't say a word, treating it a secret between you two.

Alastor gave you a radio that connects to his staff, sometimes letting you listen in on the songs and as a way of communication. You only knew that when you heard his reprise of Charlie's *Inside Every Demon Is A Rainbow*, you won't admit to Alastor that his version was better and more accurate. You were actually hooked on *Stayed Gone* and hummed it a few times, especially Alastor's ending verse. You and Alastor reenacted the whole song when he was allowed to visit you, but since Alastor was interested to see you singing his verses, you sang his parts and Alastor sang Vox's. It was heaven-sent. He was somewhat offended that you liked *Hell's Greatest Dad* though, cause you were more hooked on Lucifer's beginning verse.

Now though, Alastor asks for your hand to sway a bit. You comply and Alastor would be humming some song, he makes an effort to take an interest in your songs because you were secretive on your interest. He tries (and purposely fails) on singing your songs, then you'd be correcting him and teaching him with a teasing side smile. He doesn't care for the songs and music, he cares that you like them.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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munsonsmixtapes · 30 days

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Fulfill My Fantasy

Based on this poll, it looks like rockstar!Eddie has won!

rockstar!Eddie x plus size!groupie!reader

summary: you jump at the chance to finally hook up with your celebrity crush in a porta potty at a music festival

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) reader calls Eddie a good boy

If you were being honest, you had been convinced that you were put on this earth for the sole reason to fuck rockstars. You had been in the pants of the most famous names out there, each one being surprisingly easier than the last. They were always so eager to get into anyone’s pants and you always left them wanting more even though you never slept with the same person twice.

Your most recent target was Eddie Munson, even though you weren’t sure you would have been able to get to him because he was always already with someone. You almost had him in Texas, but saw him enter his dressing room with another girl so you took the loss and tried again in Missouri only for the same thing to happen.

You felt a little stupid for trying so hard if it wasn’t going to work out, so you just decided that you’d give up and stopped following Corroded Coffin on tour. You then settled for men who you weren’t interested in, completely forgetting about Eddie altogether since you knew that wouldn’t happen. It was all just a pipe dream, it seemed.

You found yourself at yet another music festival, on the prowl for yet another celebrity to add to your list, but weren’t finding anyone who you felt was worth your time. They were all either creeps or just weren’t interested in you. But then, as if the universe had listened, your eyes locked on Beckett Brooks, the guitarist of one of your favorite bands, who was purchasing a beer from one of stalls.

You made a beeline for him and stood behind him to act like you were in line. You didn’t know why you were nervous since you had done the same thing more times that you could count. Maybe it was because you had looked up to him for so many years.

You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, giving you a bright smile once he caught sight of you. You watched his eyes rake down your body and you were eating it up, hoping he was liking what he saw.

“Hi,” he greeted and your smile matched his as he put his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Beckett,” he introduced himself and you shook his hand briefly before letting yours fall back by your side.

“Y/n,” you replied and he nodded and he turned to grab the beer he had purchased that was sitting on the counter of the stall and twisted off the cap before taking a swig of the drink.

“Can I buy you a drink?” There was no way you were drinking with no one around to take care of you, but you’d definitely take a soda or water because it was so hot in the summer heat.

“I’ll take a water.” You really needed to hydrate, especially with what the two of you were going to get up to if you played your card right.

“Sure,” he nodded and ordered you a water while you tried to amp up the flirting to really get the ball rolling.

“I saw you on stage earlier,” you told him as he handed you the bottle of water and he looked at you in interest, as if he was intrigued by what you were saying.

“Oh yeah?” He titled his head to the side and pushed some of his blond hair out of the way. You thought the long hair suited him and wondered what it felt like. It looked soft and shiny in the sunlight.

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a sip from your water.

“What’d you think?” They were great as always, but you couldn’t help but notice that they were pitchy in a few spots.

“You guys were really good,” you told him, putting on the excited face that men always ate up. “Especially you.” You stepped closer to him and wanted to push some hair behind his ear when you felt an arm drape over your shoulder.

You turned your head and held in a gasp as you saw that Eddie Munson was standing next to you. He was dressed in a mesh top that showed off his tattoos and nipple piercings off so nicely. The top was paired with a very short pair of black shorts and you had to stop yourself from drooling at how hot he looked. Honestly, it should have been illegal.

He turned to you with his signature mega watt smile and you tried to figure out what he was up to. You had had maybe a couple of conversations with him over the years and honestly didn’t think that he even knew who you were. Especially not enough to have his arm draped over your shoulders as if you were old friends.

“Sorry I’m late, hon,” he smiled and you furrowed your eyebrows, unsure as to what he was up to. You barely knew each other and now he was acting as if you were super close despite the face that you had only had a few conversations that had only consisted of small talk.

“Eddie, man, so good to see you,” Beckett greeted him, but Eddie couldn’t have given less of a fuck, keeping his gaze on you. You looked into his eyes and the sun reflected off of them, making them a warm honey color that was just so pretty.

“Hey, Beck,” he gave him a wave, still keeping his eyes locked on yours. “I think Millie, you know, your girlfriend, was looking for you.” Eddie finally turned to the guitarist and gave him a look that told him to get lost and Beckett was quick to make himself scarce.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I should go find her. It was nice to meet you, y/n.” This wasn’t the first time that you found out that one of them had a significant other, but at least you had found out before sleeping with one them this time.

You pushed Eddie’s arm off of you and turned to face him, wondering what he was playing at. You had a feeling that this little game was for his own personal gain and that he wasn’t just trying to protect you like he may have wanted you to believe.

He just smiled at you and you hated that you almost wanted to melt looking into his stupid, pretty brown eyes. It was almost as if he was looking at you on purpose and you had a feeling that look got him out of so much trouble.

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, ignoring the eyes that were now on you. Eddie just crossed his arms over your chest and blinked at you as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, y/n,” he shrugged and that made you even more angry. He wasn’t going to get away with what he did and you were going to make sure of it.

“Bullshit.” You stepped closer to him and he mimicked your actions, a grin breaking out on his face.

“Oh, she’s getting angry.” You were falling right into his trap and you didn’t even care. He deserved to be yelled at.

“Of course I’m angry. You drove Beckett away while I was just about to get him.” You weren’t even close to getting him, but you could have been having him in that moment if Eddie hadn’t ruined it for reasons you were still unsure of.

“I think that was an exaggeration,” he laughed. “But I honestly think you dodged a bullet. I mean, he has a girlfriend and honestly, he’s not that great in bed.” He grimaced as if he had been speaking from experience and that didn’t surprise you since Eddie was openly bisexual and seemed to get around just as much or maybe even more than you did.

“Right, of course you’d know.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smirked as Eddie’s face twisted into a look of anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glared and you just stepped closer to him so you were toe to toe.

“We both know what to means. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a hook up since you ran mine off.” You turned on your heel and searched around for another person as Eddie followed you, not wanting to lose you in any of the crowds. He has already been looking for you all day and wasn’t going to have all of that time go to waste.

Little did you know that he had wanted to hook up with you just as much as you wanted to hook up with him. He had wanted you the moment he saw you, but he was just so intimidated by your beauty that his mouth went dry when he tried to talk to you. So, he settled for another girl and let you slip through his fingers twice.

Today was the day, though. He was desperate for you and really needed to know how his dick felt inside you and it was driving him mad thinking about you. Maybe interrupting your conversation with Beckett was wrong, but he thought you deserved to know the truth about him even if the reason why he did it was selfish.

“Hey, wait up!” He grabbed your arm and pulled you back, turning you around to face him. “Why don’t you hook up with me?”

“After what you just pulled? Fuck no!” You laughed and even though it was at him, Eddie still loved the sound and wondered what he could do to make you do it again.

“Listen,” he licked his lips. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, okay?” You figured he hadn’t been lying since he remembered the exact city he first saw you. And even though you believed him, he was not off the hook.

“I saw you backstage and ran into a wall because I was staring at you.” You didn’t believe that, though. Unless he had some sort of proof, you were convinced that he was lying. If he wanted to have you, he was going to try harder. He was going to have to beg. On his knees. With tears.

“Right. So that’s why you passed on me twice?” You had a point there. That definitely didn’t make him look good.

“I was nervous. You’re just so pretty that I was intimidated.” You laughed again and wondered how stupid he thought you were. This definitely wasn’t your first time hearing that and it wouldn’t be the last.

“This may work on new groupies, but I’ve been around long enough to have heard that line more times than I can count. You know, for an alleged casanova, you’re doing really bad at this.”

“What do you want me to do, y/n? Beg?” Exactly. He was finally getting it and you didn’t even have to spell it out for him.

“Right on the money, Munson. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“I can beg,” he nodded furiously.

At that, Eddie dropped to his knees and grabbed onto your hips while he looked at you. You loved seeing him so small and pathetic and were eating up the way his eyebrows pinched together as if he was in pain.

“Please forgive me,” he begged, his voice coming out like a whine and you felt yourself getting wet at the sound of it.

“Gonna need a little more.” Your hands moved to his hair, giving his head a scratch.

“Please,” he said again, his words somehow coming out even more whiny. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” Your pussy was become a sopping mess and you desperately needed him inside you.

“Alright, I forgive you,” you nodded, giving his head another scratch and he hummed at the sound. “Now c’mon.” You pulled him to his feet and took him by hand to lead him to the only private place you could think of.

“Where are we going?” He asked and you just ignored him, pulling him across the grass as fast as you could without breaking out into a full on sprint.

You finally got to the porta potties and Eddie nodded, finally understanding what you were getting at. You pulled him to the only vacant one at the far end and he opened the door, letting you in first. You both squeezed inside, the space very tight and your lips were on his in an instant, not wanting to waste any time since the place wasn’t somewhere anyone wanted to be for longer than necessary.

You liked into his mouth and he let out a whimper as his hands moved to your waist, his hands dipping into the waist band of your skirt as your tongues swirled around each other, the two of your letting out moans as you did so.

“Take off my skirt,” you instructed and he was quick to oblige.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“Good boy,” you patted his head and it drove him wild to hear you call him that, practically creaming his pants at hearing it.

Eddie removed your skirt in record speed before taking off his shorts and underwear. He reached into the pockets of his shorts and pulled out a condom before opening it and rolling the thing onto his cock then thrusting into you, both of you letting out moans as he did so.

He thrusted in and out of you slowly so the movement wouldn’t rock the porta potty even though you both always wanted it fast and hard. You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your fingers into them, pressing little crescent shapes into the skin as you did so.

“Fuck, so good,” you moaned and Eddie continued, testing the waters by moving a little faster and harder and you moaned even louder, digging your nails further into his skin. He responded by grabbing onto the backs of your thighs and you jumped, knowing that he would be able to catch you even though you were bigger than him. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you buried your face into his neck as he fit all of himself inside of you, both of you letting out loud moans as he did so.

“Taking me so well, hon,” he breathed. “Look so good wrapped around me too. Like, fuck. You’re even hotter than I imagined.” He continued to pump in and out of your cunt and his fingers dug into your ass as he tried to keep putting all of himself inside of you, your moans getting louder as he did so.

“Same goes for you. You’re much bigger than I anticipated.” That was exactly what he liked to hear and in response, he pumped the hardest and fastest he could, nor even caring if it made the whole thing too over.

“Sh-shit, Eddie. Oh my god.” Your head tilted back as your eyes closed and Eddie wished he had a camera to photograph just how fucking hot you looked in that moment.

Just as you both reached your climaxes, the porta potty did in fact tip over and it was needless to say that the both of you had been asked to leave and were told that you were never allowed to return to the event ever again.

But neither of you cared and you laughed your entire way to your car to continue where you left off, finding it hilarious that you really thought you could get away with fucking in a porta potty. Well, at least you both had a great story to tell to tell people how you officially met.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x groupie!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader

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silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright folks, I think I’m on the other side of this cold. Which unfortunately means I am back at work. Things are going to start getting more serious here, so bear with me.

Moving forward, each chapter will have its own warnings above the normal, so just keep an eye out. As always, thank you for reading. ☺️

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. **STRONG TRIGGER WARNING FOR SA** Please proceed w/ caution.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 8 - Limits

Three months is not a long time. Not long enough for me to drink in the relationship that now was encompassing the vast majority of my life. I still had my job, my meetings, my daily walks with Angel…but everything else was Noah.

Nights watching movies with him. Days going to his house and just existing while he sat in his studio making music. Standing backstage at random pop up shows they did. Morning showers. Evening cuddles. Very late night sex. Sex all the time? Noah had an incredible sex drive and I was along for the ride.

But today, this truly horrific day, was his last day before he left again on tour. It was panic day. And I couldn’t get out of work. He leaves in the morning for Houston, and is absolutely losing his mind with anxiety.

My phone was going to vibrate off of my desk, so I slipped it into the top drawer and turned my attention back to the clients in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about that, where were we?”

The young couple sat in the chairs in front of my desk, their expression cool and positive. They radiated happiness, love. Jared and Sarah Miller, newlyweds, and visibly elated to be buying their first home. Sarah’s belly sat heavy in her lap, thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy with their first baby.

Their house was closing next week, so we needed to discuss what all needed to be done prior and run their one last statement check.

“You can take that, if you need Mileena. We don’t mind waiting.” Sarah smiled at me warmly, and I felt a tug in my chest when I heard my phone vibrate again.

“Oh, it’s fi-“ Before I could finish, it stopped vibrating, only to begin again half a second later. “Uhm…”

I opened my drawer, looking down to see Noah’s face flashing once again.

“I’m so sorry, it’s my boyfriend. It may be an emergency if he’s calling this much.”

Jared stood up. “No worries! We can run to the car and get Sarah’s snacks, if you don’t mind we eat in here?”

I shook my head. “Not at all! I’ll only be a second.”

“Take your time.” Sarah chirped before they walked out of the office, the door latching behind them.

I slid the newest call open. “Why aren’t you answering?! Are you dying?!”

I had to pull the phone from my ear due to the sheer volume of his voice. “Noah, I’m at work. Not dying.”

“Oh.” His voice calmed down instantly. “Good, because I almost got worried.”

I snorted. “Almost? You’ve called me like, a hundred times!”

He chuckled. “It’s panic day?” He said defensively.

“Panic day or not, babe. I’m with clients.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

I glanced at my computer screen to a new Teams message.

Sam: Saw your clients left. Wanna get lunch?

I cringed.

Me: They’re coming back. And no, eating in.

I saw the indication he was typing pop up, but disappear a moment later with no new message.

“Listen, babe,” I brought my attention back to Noah. “How about I go to your place after work? I can grab food on the way?”

“I really should focus.”

I laughed. “Cause you’re doing such a great job.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll see you about six. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

And we ended the call right as Jared and Sarah walked back in.

I smiled widely and took a breath. “Crisis averted. Now, let’s get you guys this house.”

I sat cross-legged on Noah’s bed, pulling potstickers from the paper box in my hand. Noah was chewing on his food while his fingers clacked at his keyboard, sending last minute emails to his tour manager.

Rick and Morty played on the television, and I idly watched it while letting him have his space. ‘Just having you here makes me feel more calm’ is what he told me, so I’m just existing, letting him have his panic in peace.

Noah had gone to my house this afternoon and picked up Angel after we talked, bringing him back to his place so I didn’t have to stop home after work. I was almost convinced he loved that dog more than me. I’m okay with that.

Noah turned, chow mein noodle hanging out of his lips. I chuckled at the sight, and he turned his lips up in a goofy smile. He slurped the noodle in his mouth and licked his lips. As silly as he is, he’s still absolutely breathtaking.

His muscle shirt showed his arms that were slowly becoming more defined every time I really looked at them. Noah had been filling free time he had going to Muay Thai and Boxing classes, trying to keep off any unnecessary pounds he may put on from his sugar intake. The results were becoming…difficult to not appreciate.

“You done?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I think so. Nothing left to do but sleep.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Good.” I glanced at my watch, noticing it was already seven-thirty. The first forty-five minutes of me being here was spent trying to calm the anxiety and help him find his favorite jacket that somehow ended up in Jolly’s laundry hamper.

“We’ve got to head out in about an hour.”

His lips turned down in a frown. “Why?”

“I’ve got work in the morning, and you’re leaving at 4 in the morning. You need sleep.”

“Nuh-uh.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Noah, unless you have a show, you can barely stay conscious past 10PM. You still have to shower.”

He shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“Mkay, well I care. Because I also have to shower and decompress before bed.” I stood off the bed and piled the empty food containers into the bag they came in, walking it over to the garbage can.

“Take this out tonight, or it’ll be awful when you get back.”

He just stared at me, a look I couldn’t quite place on his face. It made me shift my weight under me, unsure of how to react.

“What? Do I have soy sauce on me?” I wiped at my face, but he just shook his head.

“No.” He then sighed heavily. “We’re going to be gone longer this time.”

My heart pulled. He was right. He’d be gone two and a half months this time, which shouldn’t be long, right? Three months went by so fast…

“I know. But, I’ll be at the show here in October. And you’ll be home a week after that, just in time for your birthday.”

He chewed his bottom lip. I walked over to him, stopping directly in front of his chair.

“Then we’ll spend the holidays together.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, his head leaning into my chest, his arms swallowing my waist. “Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving.”

He would be going back on tour at the end of January, so we had to take what we could get.

“Can’t you just come with me?”

I chuckled. “I wish, baby.”

I pulled my arms back, gripping either side of his neck to bring his face up to mine, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms tightened around me and a soft moan hummed out of him.

“Now,” I pulled my face back and pushed him back into his chair. “sit there quietly, and let me give you your parting gift.”

I sunk down to my knees and watched while he lifted his brows at me, narrowing his eyes.

“Since when do I do what you tell me?” His tone was apprehensive.

I gazed up at him through my lashes, doing my best to look innocent while my hands unzipped his jeans.

“Since I have something you want.” I very dramatically licked my lips, leaving excess saliva on my bottom lip for effect.

He pursed his lips, and gave a curt nod of his head.

“Fair enough.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. Two-and a half months was crawling. I would assume it felt that way since it had only been two weeks, but it felt like a year.

I had just hung up the phone, Noah having to head into sound check. My lunch break was close to over, so I was already sitting behind my desk, scrolling through emails while I waited for my next client to make their appointment.

My desk phone chimed, and I grabbed the receiver.

“Kline Home Lending, this is Mileena?”

“Are you not logged in to Teams?” Sam’s voice was sharp on the other end.

“I’m on lunch. I haven’t taken Do Not Disturb off yet.”

“Lex wants to see us. Didn’t say why. We need to go now.”

I straightened my back and checked the time. I only had twenty minutes until my next appointment. That didn’t matter, though. When Lex called, you went. He was the President of Kline, and he didn’t make appearances often.

I shot my client a quick text to wait for me in the lobby if I wasn’t back as I walked down the hallway behind Sam toward Lex’s office.

“What do you think he wants?”

Same didn’t turn to respond. “Don’t know. He just asked to see us two.”

What could he possibly need? I kept my nose down, sold my loans, and kept it pushing. I didn’t make waves. Sam, on the other hand…

“Ah! Thank you both for coming on short notice. I won’t keep you too long.”

Sam and I each took a seat in front of Lex’s desk. Our boss, a tall, older man with white hair and his shirt unbuttoned the top two buttons, stood up and rounded the desk, leaning against it.

“I’m certain you don’t know why I’ve brought you here.” We both just nodded. “Right, well I’ll get straight to it.”

He went back to his chair, sitting down and waking his computer. “I assume you’re both familiar with Shamrock Lending?”

“Aren’t they the company that just declared bankruptcy?” I furrowed my brow, my question making him nod.

“Nearly. They’ve backed out of that.” Sam and I looked at each other inquisitively. “We’re absorbing them, including their employees and client base.”

“Why?” Sam sounded unamused.

“Shamrock maintained a prestigious client-base and had great word of mouth. The pandemic killed the business, and with them having been such a small company to begin with, it didn’t cost us much. And now we can retain their clientele, including their celebrity accounts.” He had his chin resting in his hands. “They sold Kelly Clarkson a house last year.”

Sam snorted. “So, what does that have to do with us?”

I had to forcibly not roll my eyes at his disrespectful attitude.

Lex looked intrigued, staring directly at Sam.

“I’m glad you asked, Samuel.” The sound of his full name made Sam visibly straighten. “We need to do something to boost morale for their employees. Shamrock was a family-owned company so most of their staff are…less than thrilled at coming over to Kline.”

“I could understand that.” I empathized.

“Exactly. So we are going to arrange for a company event, something to lighten the spirits. Eating, drinking, and overall merriment.” He pointed at us. “Oh, and live music! That always gets people excited.”

He stood again. “I need you both to organize it. You’re my top performers, so I trust you both to be able to arrange something within the next week or so.”

My eyes widened. We had to what?!

“With all due respect sir, but when you say organize?”

“Find a venue, get catering, hire a band, all that jazz.”

“My family has an estate on a vineyard in Escondido. Perfect for this.” Sam was now smiling confidently. Kiss ass.

Lex snapped. “Wonderful! We need this ready happen by the end of September. The merge is effective as of October 1st.”

I’m so fucked.

The following seven days had been a blur. A long, exhausting, frustrating blur. I had to reschedule so many appointments so Sam and I could work on the event.

Venue was no issue, but we needed catering, entertainment, staff, decorations, which is what Sam and I were currently arguing over.

The amount of arguing we had done over the last week had drained everything out of me. Spending this much time with him was absolutely ungodly. He was so difficult to tolerate, his bravado and over enthusiastic flirting got so far under my skin I could feel it in my bones.

“We need a theme!”

“It’s not junior prom, Sam! We don’t need casino night!”

He scoffed, pacing over the floor in my office while I sat, my fingertips rubbing my temples.

“So it’s just a ‘Hey we get you hate us, but get drunk and have salmon’ party?!’

We were interrupted by the door opening, Chrissy, the janitor, coming to clean my office.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you guys were gone.” She backed out and closed the door.

“Jesus Christ, what time is it?” I checked my watch. “Ugh, it’s already seven. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no, we need to finish this. The event is in three days.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m ordering some pizza.”

I stood up in protest. “As fun as that sounds, I’ve got to go walk my dog. Or he’ll piss in the house.”

He locked his phone and gave me a disgusting grin. “No worries, we can just finish at your place.”

My face must have mimicked my disdain because he only smiled wider. I groaned and sat back down.

“Fine. Let’s just finish it.”

I finally swung my front door open at 9PM, exhaustion and agitation fueling me the entire ride home. Angel met me at the door, eyes big, obviously concerned for my whereabouts. He's never left alone quite this long, more so these last few months with Noah picking him up nearly every day.

"Hey baby." He barked in response while I kicked my heels off. "I'm so sorry I was gone so long."

He ran to the back door in response. I dropped my bag right there on the floor, slipping my slides on and striding to let Angel out.

I stepped outside with him, watching as he disappeared near the trees in the corner of the yard, undoubtedly relieving himself. I stayed on the wooden porch, flopping down into the wooden chair at the table. I slipped a single cigarette out of the pack next to the ashtray and lit the end with a match. I didn't indulge in my nicotine habit often, only in times of severe stress. I bought a pack the day I learned of the event and had smoked one each night after work.

I hadn't told Noah that.

This reminded me that I hadn't heard from him all day. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, taking a long drag from my smoke.

I pressed call as soon as I found his name in my recent list, noticing our last phone call was yesterday afternoon. We hadn't talked hardly at all since Sunday, when the shows became more frequent and my work started taking up all my damn time. Our nightly calls had been skipped a few times now, and we mostly communicated over text. Until now, I hadn't noticed how badly I missed him until I saw his contact photo show up when the phone rang; a picture of him sleeping, Angel stretched out over his stomach, snoozing comfortably on my bed.

I put the phone on speaker and set it on the table, leaning back in my chair.

"Hello?" His voice that came through was loud. There was a ton of background noise and voices. There was also some kind of music. Music I didn't recognize - heavy bass drums, some kind of high-pitched synth, with rhythmic reverb. Club music?

"Hey babe. What're you doing?" I could hear shuffling on the other end.

"What?" He couldn't hear me. "Hang on, babe. One sec." The phone then went completely silent, evidently muted.

After a few moments, I could hear sound again, but it was much quieter. "Hey babe, I'm sorry. I couldn't hear shit in there."

"What are you doing?" My voice was sharp, which I wasn't sure if it was due to me being wildly suspicious all of a sudden, or the frustration bleeding over from work.

"Oh, uh, after the show the guys wanted to stop off at this place on our way back to the hotel." His voice sounded intentionally nonchalant.

"What kind of place?"

He was quiet. Too fucking quiet.

"Babe, don't freak out." He sighed heavily. "It's a bar, and look-"

"You're at a fucking bar?!" I stood up, dropping my cigarette into the ashtray.

"Babe, please don't yell at me." I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, forcibly evening out my voice.

"Noah, why the hell are you at a bar?" I said through gritted teeth.

"It's one of the guys' in ERRA's birthday tonight. We're just here to celebrate. I'm going to be fine." He was annoyed, I could hear it. I was 'sponsor'-ing him, but I didn't fucking care.

"Please don't drink, Noah." He groaned.

"I won't, Leena." His voice was slightly venomous. This bothered me. How could he not understand why I was upset by this? It was a valid fucking reason to be upset. He was right on top of earning his 6-month chip.

"Good. Because I swear to God, I will snatch those chips away from you so fucking fast."

He didn't even breathe. "Nick is here. He'll keep me straight."

"He's not drinking?"

"No."

"Okay." I sat back down.

"I'll call you when I get back to the hotel and after I shower."

"Okay." I picked my cigarette back up. "I love you."

"Love you too." Click. My heart tugged. It felt wrong.

When he finally called me, I was already half asleep. I had showered, finished getting ready for bed, and began fading while watching Supernatural. It was typically unheard of for me to pass out so early, but I was positively exhausted.

My phone began singing next to my face, and I moaned in defeat. I just wanted to be unconscious.

"Hey." My voice was thick with sleep.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" His voice sounded pretty sleepy too. It was past his bedtime.

"I was, but I'm fine." I sat up in bed. I ran a hand over Angel, who was now sound asleep in Noah's spot on my bed.

"Mmm. How was your day?"

I leaned back on my pillows, yawning. "It was long. Had to stay late again."

"With Sam?"

This made me snap to attention. The bite in his tone startled me. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Hmm." He was making a lot of humming noises tonight. "Been spending a lot of time with him, yeah?"

You're fucking kidding. Noah was not getting jealous...of Shithead Sam?!

"Not voluntarily. We just had to get this event worked out."

"And did you?" He was still so serious. Nothing like what I was used to with Noah.

"Yes." My words were slow, still in disbelief at his attitude. "The event is on Saturday over in the valley. I'll be driving down there Saturday morning to make sure it gets set up."

"Well, I'm sure he'll meet you there."

I had about enough.

"Noah, what's your problem?" I was serious now, over whatever bullshit game it was he was playing.

"I don't have one." He paused. "Do you?"

Is he instigating an argument? "I didn't think so, but you're acting weird." I sighed. "I don't like it."

I heard him breathe, a sigh, maybe? "I'm sorry."

I didn't respond.

"I don't know, I just don't like that guy."

I sat up, pausing the television. "I know you don't. Neither do I. But why be rude to me over it?"

"Well, you spending so much time with him bothers me."

"...and?" I furrowed my brow, bewildered. "I can't help that we got put on this project together."

He snickered. "I mean..." He trailed off.

"What?" I dared him.

"You could have said no."

My jaw dropped. Was he for fucking real? "How do you figure? The President of the company I work for tells me to organize an event, and I just...what? Decline?"

"Pretty much."

I shook my head, absolutely flabbergasted. "Are you fucking joking?" My voice was raised.

"I asked you not to yell at me."

I swung my legs over the bed and began pacing. "Well, that's hard to do when you're acting like this."

"Like what?" His voice was so even, so calm. It was getting under my skin.

"Like a jealous boyfriend!"

He was silent for a minute. "Am I not?"

"Oh my fucking God, Noah! You have nothing to be jealous about!" I was now laughing, but not because it was funny, but because it was so ridiculous. "The guy is fucking putrid!"

"So I've heard." That evenness in his tone was going to kill me, or get him killed if I get my hands on him. I knew that bullshit. It was manipulative, which up until this point, I didn't think Noah was. He had never acted like this before.

"Noah, you don't fucking get it. He's the opposite of attractive. He reminds me of my ex." I had never admitted that before, to him or myself. I didn't think about him often.

"Right, yeah. The ex-boyfriend you never want to talk about. Got it." There was a slight inflection in his voice. Good. At least I know he isn't a robot.

He was just a fucking asshole.

My voice was calm now, still as standing fucking water. "That's correct."

"Leaves me with lots of questions, Mileena."

Who the fuck was this douchebag on the phone with me? What piece of garbage was I talking to? It wasn't Noah. Not my Noah.

"I'm hanging up." My hand was shaking now.

"Sure, yeah, ignore the problem." He was getting worked up. I couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

"No, I'm just not letting this go any further." I took a breath to keep voice even. "You should get some rest."

"No, c'mon, let's talk about it! You always want to know about me and my fucking skeletons in the closet! Where's yours? What's the big fucking secret? Why do I have to pull fucking teeth to get you to fucking talk about your ex? Or your drinking? Or anything fucking personal?!" He was full-blown screaming now, and I was frozen solid.

He wasn't wrong. I always avoided talking about Jeremy, at all God damn costs. He enabled my drinking, he set back my sobriety, and that was the mild stuff.

"Noah...please stop." My voice was cracking now.

"Whatever. So much for a trusting fucking relationship."

That was it. That broke the dam. That sent me spiraling.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?! You call me, start a fucking fight, and then have the audacity to say I can't be trusted you fucking bastard?! Why? Because I don't want to talk about the asshole that drove me to drink because he was abusing me so badly?! Who slapped me around so much that only the alcohol made it bearable?! Back when I tried to kill myself, couldn't because I was so God damn drunk, and ended up going back to him because he convinced me no one else would ever love me?!"

I couldn't stop. He flipped the switch and you can't just undo that.

"Fuck you, Noah! Fuck you and your bullshit jealousy and trust issues!" Tears were streaming down my face, blurring my vision. Somewhere, I felt Angel's nose pressing into the side of my leg. "Now go the fuck to sleep before I tell you to go to hell instead!"

I ended the call, before he could respond. My shaky hands frantically turned my phone off before I could receive a text or a call back.

I had put my phone on vibrate all day Friday, spending the majority of the day in my bed sulking. I didn't want to talk to anyone; Laura, my Dad, most importantly, Noah. Anytime I thought about it, I started crying. I laid in bed, only getting up to let Angel out and get snacks from the kitchen. I laid in bed, watching comedy movies to try and relieve my mind.

It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I finally read all of the missed texts.

The night of the fight:

Noah: Leena I'm such a fcking asshole. I'm sorry. Pleese call me back.

Noah: Babe I don't even know what got into m please.

Noah: Yourr phone is going straigt to voicemail. I guess you turned it off. I'm going to sleep now. I love you. Call me please?

Friday morning:

Noah: Is your phone back on?

Noah: Guess not.

Noah: Leena, please call me. I feel sick thinking about how dumb I was being. I promise I will never do that again. I swear. Please just respond to me.

Nick: Leena, Noah won't stop asking me to text you. Please call him.

Noah: I'm about to cancel the show tonight and fly home. Please Leena.

Noah: Nick said I can't cancel the show. Too short notice. Please call me. I need to hear your voice.

Friday evening:

Noah: Look, I've tried really hard to be patient but I'm starting to freak out. Babe, please. I was stupid. I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever do anything like that again. I have no idea what got into me.

Noah: I'm going to quit texting now. I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry. Call me when you're ready. I love you so much, more than you'll ever know Leena. Always.

I sighed hard. I wasn't angry anymore, mostly just hurt. I really wanted Noah to be different, but after the way he was talking, it was hard to believe. Nothing made sense. In five months, he had not spoken like that to me at all. He was always so laid back, even about things that bothered him.

Something was wrong. Something was different.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to ponder it, as I had to get ready to drive to Escondido and get this hellscape of a day over with.

I decided to send him a response, but not give too much.

Me: I love you too. We'll talk tonight. Have a good show.

All things considered, the vineyard was absolutely stunning. The event was exactly how we planned, music elegant but still upbeat. The food was high-class, Kline sparing no expense. People were swaying and mingling, their drinks from the open bar settling nicely into their systems.

I was stood on a hill just out of sight of the happenings down by the massive estate home, overlooking the winery. Vines upon vines of grapes grew, causing such an incredible landscape while the sun began to set over the hills. It soothed the ache in my soul.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and gauging the weight of them, I rolled my eyes, knowing my moment was spoiled.

"Too good for the party?" I sighed. Sam's voice was the same as always, condescending and arrogant.

I turned, my long, olive green dress twisting at the skirt. "Nope, just taking a breather."

"Is it hard? Being around people drinking?" For once, he didn't sound like he was being judgmental, and it caught me off guard.

I shook my head lightly. "No. Not really anymore."

He nodded, standing next to me with his hands in his pockets.

"Hell of a view."

I shrugged. "It is."

He nudged my shoulder, gesturing over to a stable to his left. "Want to go see the horses?"

I smirked. "I'm okay, thank you."

He narrowed his eyes at me playfully. "C'mon, girl. Everyone loves horses!"

I chuckled. I contemplated this for a moment. I do love horses, having ridden many when I was younger.

Sam began stalking toward the barn, waving me along. "Just for a minute. You'll love them!"

I rolled my eyes, but still, I stomped after him, my heels nearly sinking into the grass beneath me.

He pulled the door open, the familiar smell of hay and feed hitting me in the nostrils. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of the horses my Dad helped tend when I was a little girl.

He walked into one of the stalls. "This one," he pulled on a rein, a stunning black horse peering out of the stall. I was drawn, walking up to her and smiling. "is mine. Her name is Onyx."

Her large nose pressed into my hand. I ran a hand up her face, reveling in the feel of her silky fur.

"She's amazing." I was in awe.

"Yeah, she's a good girl. Rides like a champ." I nodded.

"I'll bet she does." I backed away from her, peering over at Sam.

"You want to see another?" I nodded, a soft smile on my face.

He waved me down the stable, opening a stall at the end. "Come on."

I didn't see a horse, but I stepped in front of the door, confused. Sam was gone, and the stall was empty. I took a step forward just beyond the door, puzzled.

"Sam?"

It was at that exact second, a hand clapped over my mouth from behind, and a large, thick arm came to snake around me around the waist, holding my arms down to my sides and pulling me in close.

Sam had me pinned, his body pressed against my back, as I began writhing and struggling beneath him. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I struggled as hard as I could, working my arms around in an attempt to get free. I felt his breath on the side of my face, his voice low and hushed.

"Shh, hang on there, girl. Wouldn't want anyone to know we're in here." I screamed against his hand, forcing him to clamp down harder, giving the feeling that my jaw may break.

Please, fucking, please, no.

"You've been playing this 'hard to get' bullshit for so long. It was about time we finally made it happen, huh?"

His hand over my mouth slid down to my neck, squeezing so tight that my vision began turning fuzzy.

I choked hard, trying like hell to get words out. "S-Sam, please, d-don't."

He had turned us around, pushing me against the wall of the stable. His hand that wasn't holding my throat was roaming up my skirt, his giant palm under my dress and tugging at my underwear. I thrashed again, trying like hell to get an inch so I could slip out of his grasp. It was futile. He had me, I was trapped.

I felt his fingers slipping into the hem of my panties, sneaking underneath. His hands violated me, making hot tears pour out of my eyes. I squeezed them shut, trying to just focus on having enough air to stay conscious. If I pass out, it's over.

I ignored his hands on me, and focused. His feet. His feet were the only shot I had.

I shifted my weight onto my other leg, realizing his was immediately behind mine, using both legs to keep mine spread.

I lifted my foot, and with as much force as I could muster, I jammed my heel into top of his foot, causing him to jump back, his hands releasing me at once. Without hesitation, once my arms were free, I reached my elbow back, connecting it with his face. I felt something crunch beneath my arm, but I didn't care.

As soon as he was no longer on top of me, I ran. I booked straight out of the barn, my vision slowly returning.

I was running back toward the party, up the hill. That's when I stopped. My dress was ripped on the strap, my hair was tangled up, and my makeup had to be running down my face. I was a mess. I looked insane.

I had to get the hell out.

I began sprinting to the parking lot, passing several people on my way but not stopping. I ran to my car that, thankfully, I had left unlocked, keys in the visor. I turned the engine over and tore out of the parking lot.

I didn't care that I blew past multiple stop signs. I pulled onto the interstate and drove. I drove until I couldn't see the winery behind me. Until I could barely see at all because my eyes were watering so badly. My breathing was so sporadic. My hands were screaming with how tight I had been gripping the steering wheel.

I finally snapped out of my state, realizing I needed to stop.

I pulled off on the next exit, finding a rest stop just off the highway and pulled into the parking lot. I sat there, staring out of the windshield, tears streaming, trying to calm my breathing.

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped, and for my brain to begin functioning again.

I picked up my phone, opening it and ignoring texts and missed calls and going straight to my contacts.

I pressed 'Call' and waited for the line to pick up.

"Hey babes, what's up?" Laura's voice rang through the line.

"I need help."

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

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buzzkillchainsaw · 2 months

Text

⚠️ addiction, child abuse/neglect, death

Takumi Hoga was twelve years old when he first entered the ring. What else was he to do, really? He had just found out that he would be held back another grade again. Usually kids like him would hear the same old "You're not stupid, you're just lazy" speech over and over again, but not Takumi. He knew what the teachers thought of him. The current ones, that is. The teachers at the last two schools he was expelled from were probably relieved to never waste another thought on him again, after what he did. Bit a child here, broke a bone there. Bruises. Bloody noses. "Beast types", teachers would sneer whenever Takumi caused another "incident". Other than that, nobody paid much attention to him, even in class. You see, Takumi was born with abnormally large and abnormally many teeth very similar to a shark's. Whenever he opened his mouth to say something, teachers and students alike would cringe at his impeded speech, the latter even making fun of it in front of the former. So Takumi just stopped speaking altogether. His grades steadily worsened. His job prospects looked bleaker and bleaker each year. His parents didn't care. His mother was busy with drugs and whatever affair she had going on currently and his father often left for "work" for days at a time, leaving his son to fend for himself more often than not. There was nothing in his life that could've prevented Takumi from entering the ring.

On that fateful day after school Takumi was prowling the streets, homework and upcoming tests being the last thing on his mind. Some kid, a few years older than him, approached him. A fellow "beast", with sharp teeth and blue scales on his skin. He was wearing a cool leather jacket and expensive sunglasses. Takumi liked them.

"Hey, buddy. You look bored.", the guy said.

Takumi nodded. He was bored.

"I know a place where kids like us can have fun and earn cash on the side. Interested?"

"Like a job?", Takumi asked.

"Yeah, but more fun.", the guy answered.

Takumi was unsure. His teacher had told him that he'd never have a good job with his lousy grades and long attack record. "No respectable company will want to hire a beast like you.", she said. So how come this guy now wanted him for a job? And a "fun" one, at that?

"What do I have to do?", Takumi asked.

Everything moved quickly after that. The guy introduced him to "the boss", a man in his thirties who loved expensive food and loud cars. He even let Takumi sit on the passenger seat and choose the music they listened to on their drive to the ring. When they arrived, Takumi was handed a simple white shirt and shorts which reminded him of the clothes he had to wear in gym class. "Now all you gotta do", the boss said, "is beat up this guy over there." Another beast was in the ring, not much older than Takumi. He waved towards the excited crowd beyond the cage that surrounded the ring.

"Beat him up?", Takumi asked, "I'm allowed to do that?"

"Yeah. Beat him, scratch him, bite him, do whatever you want until he taps out or you hear the alarm."

"What if I have to tap out first?", Takumi asked. The boss grinned and handed him a tiny plastic bag with some powder inside. "I don't think you will."

The guy from before didn't lie: This was fun. Takumi didn't even break a sweat during his first fight, knocking the guy out cold. The second fight was against an older girl who transformed into a wolf, Takumi grabbed her nape with his teeth and shook her until she tapped out. At the end of the evening the boss gave him his payment and drove him back. He handed the boy a phone and said he'd text him if he had another fight for him lined up. Takumi stuffed the phone and the money in his pockets and went to buy himself a leather jacket and sunglasses.

Takumi Hoga was thirteen years old when he adopted the stage name "Armageddon". The boss had turned him into a rising star in the local business. Bets were made on whether Armageddon won or lost the fight and the boss always gave him a cut of the winnings which Takumi would spend on food, video games and clothes. Sponsors would sometimes pay him directly to write messages and contact details on his white shirt in permanent marker, displaying them in the ring for all to see. After the fight, the boss would get him cleaned up and drive him home. Takumi then spent the next day eagerly awaiting a message from the boss. On nights without fights Takumi felt horrible, writhing around in his bed, sweating bullets and sometimes even throwing up. But as soon as a new fight came up and Takumi got his hands on that powder the boss always gave him beforehand, the world was alright again. He felt light but focused at the same time, fearless, excited and full of energy. He had finally found something he was good at. And he loved doing it.

Takumi Hoga was fourteen years old when he almost died in the ring. The boss didn’t tell him beforehand that the reptile-looking beast he was about to fight had venom. Armageddon knocked out his opponent, but then sunk to the floor, foaming at the mouth, breathing raspily. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just killed the fucker before he bit you”, the boss hissed into his ear. After some back and forth the manager of the reptile guy decided to hand over some antivenom. Even with that, Takumi felt horrible for days afterwards, unable to move the bitten arm. But when the boss texted him again the week after, he jumped at the opportunity to get back in the ring.

Takumi Hoga was fifteen years old when he fought his first adult opponent in the ring. He was hesitant, but the boss said that nobody wanted to pay to see Armageddon wipe the floor with boring ol' kids who couldn't even fight back. "There's just no money in it", the boss said, "and you wanna keep making money, don't you?" When Armageddon entered the ring, he saw a young man in front of him. Some kind of fish beast with claws and glowing spots on his skin. "Please", the man whispered, "I have debts. I need to get out of here. Please just forfeit, I need the money. I really need it." Armageddon shook his head. "Please", the man said, "Don't hurt me." Armageddon was fifteen years old when he took his first life in the ring.

Armageddon was sixteen years old when he first tried to leave the business. He kept having nightmares about the man he killed and the side effects of the powder started getting to him. But he craved it more and more and that tiny little packet the boss always gave him just didn't cut it anymore. He would've just bought himself more if he knew what it was. The boss wouldn't tell him. So one day, Armageddon stopped answering texts from the boss. He prowled the streets instead, picking fights, doing anything to distract from the withdrawal symptoms plaguing him. Eventually, he collapsed on the street and woke up again in the hospital. Police were called, his parents were called, social services were called. Lots of big words were thrown around that he didn't understand. Negligence. Addiction. Custody. Takumi Hoga was sixteen years old when he was removed from his parents and placed in temporary care with social services. But he didn't stay there very long. They wanted him to go to rehab, anger management classes, school. They took his phone and his hard earned money and placed him on a strict schedule with an early curfew. And Takumi tried. He really did. But he just couldn't live the life everyone else was expecting of him. Takumi Hoga was sixteen years old when he escaped back to the only life he knew how to live well.

Armageddon was seventeen years old when he fought “Razortooth”, a masked volunteer from the crowd. It was a rare occasion. Usually the boss decided who would fight him and the fights would be advertised in the business days in advance. Sometimes the book would drive him to private fights in some rich guy’s basement where Armageddon would fight and kill exotic animals, other beast-types or just random people who probably wronged that rich guy somehow. But tonight was open cage night in the ring, so whichever brave soul thought they could kick Armageddon’s ass was allowed to. Razortooth was a green-skinned beast wearing a short-sleeved hoodie and a ski mask. Armageddon immediately noticed that she fought wildly different from what he was used to. When you spend a lot of time in the ring, you tend to adopt a certain style. Flashy. Violent. Ruthless. But Razortooth didn’t seem to be here for the show. She dodged a left hook and rushed him, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“Hey”, she whispered into his ear as he struggled to get free.

“Hey”, he whispered back. He then punched her in the back, but the angle was weird, so it didn’t hit as hard.

“You want out?”, she whispered and shifted her weight, letting him stumble backwards towards her leg and kicking him in the back of his knee.

“I can’t”, he whispered back.

“He’s got you on Flick? That powder?”

“Yeah. Powder.”

“Alright. Sink to the floor and punch me in the kidney.”, she whispered.

“Why?”

“I’ll slip you my number and then I’ll forfeit.”

“Why?”

“I wanna help you get out.”

So Armageddon sank to the floor, then used her lowered defense to punch her. He then grabbed her and pushed her against the cage wall. Her arms flew up and he noticed something brushing against the pockets of his shorts. Razortooth forfeited.

Takumi Hoga was eighteen years old when he joined the Purpose Program. It was a long back and forth with Hitomi, the beast who had fought him in the ring under the name “Razortooth”. He thought about calling her for weeks after the fight, but something always came up. When he finally did, he didn’t expect her to be actually serious about helping him. But she was. They met up in secret and just talked for a bit.

“Are you a cop?”, he asked.

“No.”, she said, “Cops won’t help much in a situation like this.” Takumi nodded.

It felt great to talk about all this to someone. Hitomi never judged him, even when he talked about how he enjoyed hurting people in the ring. Or when he told her how he once woke up almost choking on his own vomit the night after a big fight (and big dosage of Flick). She showed him where to get Flick so he wasn’t dependent on the boss for it anymore. But she also told him what the drug actually did to his body, how he was cutting his life short if he continued consuming it. Takumi didn’t wanna die. But he also didn’t know what to do with his life if it wasn’t in the ring. Hitomi then offered to go get him tested, no strings attached. Takumi remembered how he did get tested once in elementary school, but not much was revealed there besides “big teeth” and “stronger than his peers”. The tests of the Purpose Program were different, though. It really felt like the scientists were interested in him, in what he could do. Apparently he was able to breathe underwater all this time, it just required a little surgery to open the gills in his neck. The first time he dove into the pool at the research center was heavenly, it was like he had discovered a piece of himself that was always hidden away from him. He was also strong, which he already knew, and had a lot of endurance. And the cherry on top was his excellent sense of smell underwater. He could locate a drop of blood on the other side of the pool while blindfolded.

“Water rescue” was the verdict. A job. For him.

He didn’t take it. He was scared. He relapsed multiple times, going back to the ring on nights where his mind just wouldn’t stop racing. But instead of the boss, it was Hitomi who picked him up. “Recovery isn’t linear”, she’d say. “But if you wanna enter the program, you gotta commit, Takumi.”

“I don’t wanna be Takumi anymore.”, he said, “But I also don’t wanna be Armageddon.”

“So who do you wanna be?”, she asked.

#buzzkill mirai #tw addiction #tw child abuse #tw death #oc #oc lore #worldbuilding

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monpalace · 11 months

Note

Fanfic devil (affectionate) :3

I HAVE MORE TIME THOUGHTS!!

Time is the type of guy that LOVES laying ontop of you. Resting his head on your stomach/chest while his arms are wrapped around your waist!

He loves this for a few reasons! 1, he feels as though he’s protecting you with him covering most of your body from outer harm and 2, your head scratches are the best??? You could knock this man out in a matter of seconds when you play with his hair

He honestly gets a little upset/pouty if he doesn’t get his nightly head scratches. Like you could be reading a book or doing something that is taking your attention and Time will just flop down beside you and huff.

Imagine a pouting husky, thats him

(Modern) Time in highschool/college gives jock/greaser vibes?? And imagine his s/o/crush having a more punk/alternative aesthetic?? Power couple frfr

(Modern) Time in highschool was the type of guy that, after he sent a flirty test to his crush, he’d slam his ohone down and walk away. Like hell do laps around the house at he just OVERTHINKS and blushes at how stupid that was.

Will fucking dive bomb his phone when he hears the notification ding

This could be modern or regular Time but, imagine you two are reading a mystery novel and you both are trying to solve the mystery while reading??? Like yall dead ass bought another copy of the book so you could tear it apart and put all the clues on a board

Hes so cute when he has to wear a set of reading glasses as he looks over some ‘clues.’ You give him many kisses while he has them on, and he has no idea why you random get super lovey but he’ll never complain

Time is the type of lover that loves to watch his s/o get ready in the morning. Its so domestic to him?? It reminds him that he’s more than a hero now, hes more than just his sword.

But he is also the type of lover that will lock his arms around his s/o’s waist and try to keep them home. Like, he’ll still be lying in bed and youll be at the edge if it, having come back to give him a kiss before you left, but now your just….stuck

He just straight up refuses to let you go, giggling to himself as you try and break free. You do end up on the floor at one point, just laughing as you try to crawl away from him.

He just drags your ass back up into the bed. You aint going anywhere tonight, good luck!

i also love your thoughts on this stuff so much 😭�� got me laughing and smiling at this shit

fanfic (solar) system 🫶🏽

aren't huskies notorious for being loud and dramatic asf? you forget to massage his head one time and he just pretends to cry while spewing on about "oh so you don't love me anymore? you hate me? did you just tell me to literally sleep with the fishes? you never want to see me again in your life? you can't stand the sight of my face? you want me to fuck off and die?"

he strikes me as the type to whine when you get up and use the bathroom or get a snack like that one tiktok audio because, if time is one thing, it is clingy-- but it's amplified when he's tired

he also drools. i don't make the rules.

you make the mistake of wearing a cropped top, wearing one that raises easily, or just forgoing one altogether and there's either an unbroken line of saliva going from your belly button to your chest (he likes listening to your heart-- it reminds him you're alive) or it's just all up in your neck and pillow 😭😭

time's knowledge on anything punk/alternative is seriously lacking before meeting his s/o. he knew nothing of the style, music, beliefs, etc, etc but he got really into it once you introduced him to them

BUT IMAGINE MODERN! TIME (OR HIS S/O) OWNING A MOTORCYCLE?

he gives you his helmet whenever you both ride on his because he says he doesn't have a spare (he does) and that he just wants you to be safe. sometimes he situates you so that he's behind you while he still maneuvers/controls the bike because he's just cool like that (he practiced it a lot with his friends)-- but he also melts whenever you're in control of the bike because he gets to take the backseat and put his hands around your waist like in those movies

(he says he traded it out in college for something more "practical," but he really just has it hidden in a shed/garage somewhere. he goes in and repairs it whenever he has the time since it's so old and he's to attached to sell it)

time would send something like "i liked your shirt," and then toss his phone out a window before anxiously trying to do something productive. he tries to put off answering as long as he can so he doesn't come off as desperate but he ends up biting his nails and giving not even 45 seconds later

he squeals like a child when gets a "thank you (: i liked your jacket," before immediately over-analyzing with a little corkscrew board and everything. "should i buy something with [brand] so they'll compliment me? would they like it if i got them something with [brand] on it? is this a sign they like me or am i just being delusional"

HE'D LOOK LIKE SUCH A NERD WITH THE READING GLASSES THOUGH? imagine he actually has terrible eyesight, you take his glasses and put them on, and immediately walk into a wall or something? 😭

"woah! you might need glasses more than me lol"

"you look like a fucking mosaic and picasso painting mixed together. stop talking"

his little grandpa glasses lower his intimidation by a landslide so he rarely wears them, so it's only natural you drown him in affection. he takes it in stride (even in public) and asks why you're so obsessed with him when you wear them and you only respond with ";3c" or something

trippy i will like,, collapse and die or something 😭 character a keeping character b from leaving the bed/house is my one weakness

assumedly, time is stronger than you, right? because of that he'll definitely manhandle you back into bed with little effort, day clothes be damned-- if you keep trying to fight him even after he goes back to laying right on top of you, he uses the excuse of "i'm the goddess' chosen hero. tell them i need you for something"

"i can't do that if you keep me here."

"then i'll go in with you and tell them tomorrow," and then he doesn't. he pulls the exact same thing the very next day for the rest of the week

#the palace answers #stargazing in the palace #i love ur ideas to 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 but i live to entertain lmao #the urge to write abt that last section when ur already writing three other things 😭😭😭#loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #lu link x reader #linked universe link x reader #link x reader #time x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader

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hearts-hunger · 1 year

Text

four weddings and a funeral — part four

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist

⮡ part one | part two | part three

Series Summary: You and Danny haven’t spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: Sun, sand, booze, and music. It seems like fate's dealing you a pretty good hand, but you know in your heart it's too good to be true.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, angst | Word Count: 3.7k | Chapter Warnings: drinking, sexual innuendo, another creepy guy for Danny to scare off

A/N: More Danny and Sunshine for you, my loves! I really like how this chapter turned out, and I hope you like it too. PS - I highly recommend listening to this ocean ambiance while you read this chapter. ♡

The ceremony dragged. You were a little surprised, considering you’d always thought your cousin would be the type to be more interested in the partying side of the wedding than the actual getting married part, but you were glad to see her and her soon-to-be-husband doing what they wanted to for their wedding. Even if it was taking them seven years to get through their vows.

“Hey, sunny,” Danny whispered, drawing your attention from the front.

You leaned closer to him. “Hm?”

“If you had a beach wedding, how much do you think it would cost to rent some sharks to ride away on after you said ‘I do’?”

You snorted, hiding your face against Danny’s shoulder to keep quiet as a few guests shot you puzzled looks. You could feel Danny shaking with contained laughter, and it didn’t help you with your effort to get back some self-control.

“Shut up,” you whispered, still laughing, thankful you were in the very back row of chairs. “We’re gonna ruin the whole ceremony.”

“They already ruined it by not having sharks,” he muttered. “Anybody with half a brain would know that’s an extremely cool thing to do at a wedding.”

“Do it for your wedding,” you said. You made the mistake of looking up at him then, meeting his eyes that were almost a dark golden color in the fading sunlight.

“Maybe I will,” he said, his smile twinkling with amusement. “Can I count on you to be there, sunny?”

You blushed. “Sure. I’ll be at your shark-themed wedding, Dan.” You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about the joke, worried you’d start thinking about something even more ridiculous than sharks at a wedding.

When the couple finally said “I do” and Danny lamented once more that they hadn’t ridden off into the sunset on the back of a great white, he took your hand and led you to the wide pavilion that had been set up for the reception. Dozens of strings of fairy lights hung overhead, casting a warm light on the dance floor and the long tables set up for dinner; on a small stage, a band played swanky oldies that mixed with the sound of the ocean.

“I’ll have a margarita,” Danny told the bartender. “And a mojito for you, right, sunny?”

“Yes, please,” you agreed. You leaned against the bar and watched the band.

“They’re not too bad, huh?” you asked Danny when he handed you your drink. You watched his face with an almost embarrassed hesitance, waiting to see if he’d pretend to like them not to hurt your feelings when really he didn’t care for their music. You’d learned to spot that a mile away in men by now, though usually they didn’t care to conceal their derision when you said you liked something they considered beneath them.

“No, I think they’re really good,” he said, and his expression and tone were so honest and genuine that you relaxed immediately. Not just because he’d affirmed you in your music taste — you couldn’t deny that it mattered to you that Danny liked the music you did — but because you knew he’d have been straightforward and kind about it even if he hadn’t liked it.

“What’s that little tiny cymbal on the drum kit?” you asked, gesturing with your drink in the general direction of the band.

Danny smiled. “The splash? It’s kinda like a baby crash cymbal. It has a brighter sound, but it doesn’t last as long as the crash.”

“Which one’s the crash?”

“The medium one,” he said. “The bigger ones are the ride cymbals.”

“And the big ass drum with their logo on it?” you asked.

He laughed. “Bass drum. Maybe I should draw you a diagram.”

You took a napkin from the holder on the bar and slid it over to him, asking the bartender if he had a pen you could borrow. You gave it to Danny when you got it.

“I would love a diagram,” you said with a grin.

His smile was amused as he drew you a rough sketch of a drum kit, surprisingly neat for being drawn on a napkin. You watched him with fascination and undeniable attraction, enjoying this glimpse into his talent and skill set.

“Here’s your cymbals, the ones I was telling you about,” he said, pointing out each one. “Crash, ride, crash ride, splash. You also have your hi-hat, which is this little guy right here.”

He labeled each one in small block letters. “These are your toms and your snare drum. And then the big one, the bass drum.”

“You have all these in your kit?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I have other things too, like chimes and a side snare, but this is your basic setup.”

He lifted his hand and showed you one of the bracelets on his wrist, a thin string of silver bearing balls.

“You can put these on your cymbals too,” he said, running two fingers over the length of it. You completely missed what he said next, too distracted and flustered by that simple movement to even think straight.

“I’m sorry?” you said, feeling your face heat as you tore your gaze away from the bracelets on his wrist and the veins in his hand and the sheer length of his fingers.

He honest to god smirked, and you blushed hotter.

“They’re called cymbal sizzlers,” he said, deliberately popping the last syllable. You could only nod, dazed and somewhat dreamy.

“Sizzlers,” you said weakly. “Right. Sounds... sizzling.”

His cool composure broke then, unable to keep from laughing at your incisive commentary. As much as you’d liked his smugness, you loved the way laughter softened his features and gave his eyes a little sparkle.

“I’ll say,” he agreed, turning back to the drawing. He tapped the front of the bass drum. “I think we need a big ass logo for our band.”

“Ooh, I got it,” you said. He handed you the pen and smiled when he saw what you were drawing.

“Great work, sunny,” he said, admiring your stick figure couple. “I think Greta Van Fleet should change our logo to that.”

“No way,” you protested. “That’s only for our band.”

He grinned. “Our band, huh? What are we called?”

“The Cymbal Sizzlers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

He laughed. “Well, as a wise lady once said, that sounds sizzling.” He finished his drink. “Okay. Cymbal Sizzlers it is. I like it.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m a genius.”

He ordered another round of drinks for the two of you, and you carefully folded and tucked his drawing into your bag as you went to find your seats for dinner. Luckily, you were at the end of one of the long tables, and Danny moved his chair catty-corner to yours so you could leave the people next to you to their conversation.

Dinner was an assortment of seafood, and you and Danny enjoyed crab legs and oysters and everything in between with an air of decadence.

“I bet this is every day for you,” you teased.

He laughed. “Oh, sure. We always have a raw bar in the dressing room after a show.”

“Complete with gold-plated caviar,” you added.

He hummed in agreement. “Finish that up with a dessert of cocaine and Jack Daniels, and you’ve got a pretty good picture of my daily life.”

You took another drink of your mojito. You’d lost count of what number you were on and noticed you were starting to feel the heady flush of alcohol.

“Don’t forget the blowjobs,” you reminded him.

He shook his head. “That’s actually where I draw the line,” he said sagely. “Too much fun isn’t good for a man’s health.”

“Oh?” you asked innocently. “No silly slurpee while you’re having shrimp cocktail, huh?”

He almost spit out his drink. “No what?” He laughed so hard you thought you’d broken him, and you adored the way his face scrunched with joy and amusement.

“Danny,” you laughed. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“I know!” he said. He hid behind his hands and smothered another round of bubbly laughter, and you felt the sound of it tug at your heart.

“Oh, god,” he managed eventually, gasping and wiping tears from his eyes as he tried to stop laughing. “You really almost killed me, sunny.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, reaching to put your hand over his. “I’ll keep my lame sex jokes to myself next time, I promise.”

He smiled. “Don’t you dare. I want to hear all of them.”

You finished your drink and stood, and you liked that Danny kept a hold of your hand as you did.

“You going to get another drink?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You gestured to his almost empty glass. “You want another?”

“Nah, I’m done,” he said with a laugh. “I’m plenty sauced. I’ll go get yours for if you want, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “I’m going to powder my nose.”

“Oh, fancy.” He finished off his drink. “'Kay. I’ll be here.”

You wove through the wedding guests milling about in various states of intoxication, humming along as the band played, feeling in some state of intoxication yourself. You had a pleasant buzz, and you were looking forward to dancing the night away with Danny.

You found the bathroom, and though there was thankfully no line, there was a skeevy-looking guy leaned against the wall by the door. His eyes locked onto you as you came nearer, and you hesitated. You wished there were some other girls around so you wouldn’t have to go past him alone, but for the moment it was just him and you.

You decided to trust your gut. You turned right back around and went for Danny.

He raised a brow when he saw you coming back to the table.

“All good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I...” All of a sudden, you felt weirdly embarrassed to ask. “There’s this guy that’s kind of hanging around over there, and... I don’t know...” You met his eyes. “Could you walk with me? And kind of... stand outside the door?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “Come on.”

His expression was relaxed as he walked with you, but you could tell by his posture alone that he was attentive and watchful. You stopped at the same place you’d stopped before, a few feet from the guy, and felt Danny’s reassuring touch to the small of your back.

“I’m not gonna let him bother you, sunny,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

He ushered you forward, putting himself between you and the guy and receiving an annoyed look for his trouble. Danny didn’t pay him any mind, leaning one broad shoulder on the wall between the guy and the door.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” he promised, his tone light.

You went inside with a feeling of relief, glad you’d gone back to ask for his help. When you were done, you looked yourself over in the mirror and tried to fix a few wayward strands of hair; you actually thought you looked kind of pretty, all sun-warmed and beachy and tipsy.

You came back out to see that the guy was gone, and Danny was still leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. You wondered if he’d managed to scare the guy off just by doing that, since his arms looked huge under his flimsy button down.

He looked over when you came out and gave you a cheerful smile. “Hi.”

You smiled back. “Hi. Thank you for staying.”

“No sweat,” he said. “I’m happy to tell creepy guys to fuck off any time you need me to.”

He pushed off the wall and walked over to the bar with you, and you noticed that people — men, especially — were more likely to give you a respectful distance in a way they probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t had Danny right behind you. You decided you kind of liked having a big strong guy you could trust watching your back.

The bartender gave you a wry smile when you came up. “Mojito, right?”

“Oh, lord, you already know what I’m gonna get?” you laughed. “Maybe I ought to slow down.”

You gratefully accepted the drink he made you regardless, and you chewed on your straw and swayed a little to the music as you and Danny watched the band for a minute.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said when they started to play an upbeat, bluesy tune. He put his hand out in front of you. “Let’s dance to this one.”

“Okay,” you said happily, leaving your drink and taking his hand as he led you to the dance floor. He pulled you snug against him when you got a spot right by the band, and you didn’t have very long to be bashful about it before he had you laughing with his swanky dance moves.

“You didn’t know I was secretly a dancer, did you, sunny?”

You giggled and draped one arm around his neck. “I had no idea you were so multi-talented, Daniel. What other secrets are you hiding?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased. He took your hand and spun you like a princess before he tucked you back against him.

“Do you know this song?” he asked.

You shook your head. You were a little dazed with the feeling of him so close, his hand splayed over the small of your back.

“What’s it called?” you asked.

“‘Keep On Growing,’” he said. “Eric Clapton wrote it when he was in Derek and the Dominos.”

He let his hands wander a little, never too far, but you felt your breath catch when they came to rest high on your waist. His hands were so big; you knew he could manhandle you easily if he had a mind to, and you had never felt less concerned about it in your life.

“Someday baby, who knows where or when,” he sang. “Just you wait and see — we’ll be walking together hand in hand along forever, woman, just you and me.”

You gave him a heartsick smile. “Is that so?”

He shrugged and grinned down at you. “Have you ever known Eric Clapton to lie?”

You laughed at the ridiculous question, closing your eyes for a moment as you let Danny sway you to the music.

“Sing some more,” you said.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Just gotta wait for the guitar solo to end, honey.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the endearment, and he smiled as he tugged you closer.

“Time’s gonna change us, Lord, and I know it’s true,” he sang, just for you. “Our love’s gonna keep on glowing, and growing is all we’re gonna do.”

You danced for a long while after that song ended, but the thrill of being close to him only grew the longer he held you and danced you around with goofy, innocent enthusiasm.

When the band finally started to play a slower song, Danny pulled you close with a hand on your back, his free hand taking one of yours. You were glad you were taking a moment to catch your breath; the night air was warm, and now that you were resting against Danny’s chest, you felt a lot more drunk than you had a second ago.

“It’s hot,” you said, looking up at him.

His smile was a little crooked. “You are so drunk, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you agreed. “It’s still hot.”

He chuckled. “I know. You want to go for a walk by the water? Cool off a little?”

You hummed in agreement. “Take me away, Danny.”

He took your hand as he led you through the crowd on the dance floor. He stopped at the bar, but before you could tell him you definitely didn’t need any more alcohol, he got two glasses of ice water and handed one to you.

“Drink up, buttercup.”

You clinked your glass against his, happy that it made him smile. When you’d slaked your thirst, you pressed the side of the glass to your cheek and welcomed the icy sting of it.

“Hey,” you said, seeing the dessert bar. “Strawberry kiss.”

Danny gave you a confused smile. “What?”

“Yeah, you know,” you said. You set your glass down on the bar and put your hand on his arm. “You gave me a strawberry kiss this morning.”

“I remember,” he said, and you liked how he angled his body towards you. “I’d give you another one, but I don’t carry strawberries around in my pockets all day.”

You giggled. “You should.” You gestured to the dessert bar piled high with treats and cakes and a rainbow of fruit. “But you don’t have to.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, let’s go get you a strawberry kiss, sunny.”

When you had a plastic cup overflowing with strawberries and Danny had caught the one that had tumbled off the top, you walked down to the beach together and shared your dessert. Danny held out his hand to take each leafy top from you when you were finished and tossed them and the empty cup afterwards.

“You’re good at, like, holding things,” you said as you walked down the beach, feeling that a bit of your intelligence had maybe gone out the window with all those drinks.

Danny laughed. “Thank you, I think.”

You took his hand and held it, palm up, in yours. “It’s because your hands are ginormous. They can fit a lot of things.”

You ran your fingers over his palm, and he let out a surprised giggle and flinched away a little.

“Quit that,” he said, but he was smiling. His fingers closed over yours. “Maybe your hands are just tiny, sunny. D’you ever think of that?”

You grinned and brought his hand up to cover your face. “Nope. Because your hand is still big even when it’s not compared to my hand.”

He moved his hand to cup your jaw, his fingers tracing over your brow and your cheek as he did. You rested against his hand and looked up at him.

“You sure do look pretty tonight, sunny,” he said.

For the first time, you didn’t feel shy at his compliment. Maybe it was the rum, but you liked being able to just bask in the pleasure of his praise.

“Thank you,” you said. “I feel pretty tonight.”

You kept hold of his hand and leaned back, letting him hold your weight.

“Well, hold on a second,” he said. He took your other hand so you wouldn’t be lopsided. “There you go.”

You tipped your face up towards the moonlit sky and closed your eyes, feeling the salty ocean breeze brush over your face and Danny’s warm, strong hands holding yours.

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I think we should lay down in the sand and connect with the earth.”

He chuckled. “Okay, sunny. Should I just drop you, or...?”

You opened your eyes. “No!”

He grinned. “Fine.” He gently eased you back upright and steadied you as you tried to manage the sand and your dress and your tipsiness with a modicum of grace. You breathed a long sigh when you laid back in the sand, feeling the soft, cool grit of it on your skin.

“How’s this?” Danny asked, propping himself up on his arm next to you. “Do you feel connected with the earth?”

You took a handful of sand and let it trickle through your fingers. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Sure.” He brushed back the lock of hair the breeze had drawn across your face, hooking it behind your ear. “I guess I feel connected to the ocean, too. Pushing, pulling. Always coming back to the shore.”

You turned your head to meet his eyes, and he gave you a gentle smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Just thinking,” you said quietly. You touched your fingers to the pendant on his necklace. “Do you think I can be the sun and the beach, and you can be the moon and the ocean?”

He held your hand and ran his thumb over your palm. “I think that sounds perfect.”

You closed your fingers around his hand, feeling his warmth and steadiness. “I don’t want to be apart from you for a long time, Danny.”

“What do you mean, honey?”

You turned your face back towards the starry sky, feeling close to crying for some reason.

“I missed you after I moved,” you said, and your voice was tight. “I felt like I lost my best friend. And I know we were only kids, but I always thought of you after I left. I always hoped we’d see each other again, somehow.”

Though the past few days had rekindled your old friendship, you knew it was wishful thinking to believe you could maintain a strong relationship after this week, let alone explore the idea of romantic love with each other. You wanted both, foolishly, but Danny wasn’t just Danny any more; he’d be no more likely to want to fit you into his life than you would be able to fit him into yours. It just wasn’t meant to be, and it was painfully obvious despite the gentleness between you.

A tear trickled down your cheek, and Danny moved your joined hands to brush it away.

“I missed you too, sunshine,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be apart from you either. I think fate brought us back together for a reason, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice was so quiet even you could barely hear it over the sound of the ocean. “To break my heart, I think.”

Danny didn’t seem to hear you, or if he did, he didn’t respond. He touched a finger to your jaw.

“Look at me, sunny.”

You did. Another tear rolled over the bridge of your nose, and he leaned close and kissed it away.

“No crying at a wedding,” he chided gently.

You gave a watery laugh. “That’s all that people do at weddings, Danny. Cry and drink.”

“And dance,” he said with a smile. “Don’t forget dancing.”

He stood, gently bringing you to your feet with him. He held you close and swayed you to the rhythm of the waves.

“We should just stay like this forever,” you said.

His soft laugh rumbled in his chest where you leaned against him. “Sounds good to me, sunshine.”

Read part five!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep @gretavanbri

fic taglist: @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#i actually really like how this chapter turned out and i hope you like it too!! <3 #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner x reader fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fluff #gvf #danny wagner #maddie writes stuff!#four weddings and a funeral fic

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liannelara-dracula · 2 years

Note

Diabolik lovers S+M+T brothers at beach

Hi Love,

Gosh, I am so sorry! I hope you are still around. This took months! To everyone I am sorry for my absences, in December I hope to be less busy. I luckily found some time for writing so I decided to finish some stuff while I'm at it. :) Hope you guys like it!

-Liannelara

Diaboys At the Beach HCS

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Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been censored for Tumblr guidelines.

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General (includes everyone):

🏝They took a van altogether to get there.

🏝Or it may have been Kou’s tour van bc he’s an idol.

🏝And Yuma didn’t want to go.

🏝But he was the one who ended up driving because he thinks that Ruki and Reiji are too slow because they follow the speed limit.

🏝Carla and Shin cannot drive because they are too old so good luck explaining to them how a car works.

🏝Plus Shin drives so bad, omg.

🏝And so yeah, Yuma would get everyone there faster.

Sakamaki

Shu:

🏝Made a fake treasure map and sneaked it somewhere on the beach and Ayato found it.

🏝This way the triplets would be preoccupied and leave the damn place so he could get some freaking peace and quiet.

🏝He openly admitted to Reiji, Subaru, Ruki, and Carla who were resting on lawn chairs also.

🏝“It’s been a while since we have seen those three.” Ruki commented.

🏝“Tch, yeah they must be so busy checking out chicks.” Subaru said.

🏝Shu continued to look asleep with his sunglasses and said, “Oh, they’re not checking out chicks.”

🏝“Then why the hell are they so busy?!” Subaru looked confused.

🏝“Well, I didn’t want to say anything but I figured a fake map would do the trick.”

🏝“You did what?!” They were all shocked.

🏝“They’re looking all around for treasure that doesn’t even exist. But I figured it was the only way to get them to shut up.” Shu grinned, knowing he had screwed them over.

🏝“It is unbelieve that you even bothered to do something productive, let alone beneficial to us all.” Reiji commented while adjusting his glasses.

🏝Getting him to come was hard, it was only because Reiji said that there would be steak so he agreed to come.

🏝Wears his damn cardigan in this hot @ss heat.

🏝Rei does not understand this at all and can’t stand it.

🏝And he’s shirtless and probably has some beach necklace on.

🏝He makes sure to leave his cardigan open tho, that way chicks can check him out.

🏝But he does wear his swim trunks (they’re yellow) and sunglasses.

🏝And he’d sip out of a f*ckin�� coconut and you know it.

🏝Spends most of his time on the damn lawn chair or on a beach towel under the umbrella shade.

🏝This just gives him the excuse to be lazy.

🏝While he lays on the beach towel if girls walk by in their bikinis, he looks up.

🏝He is still listening to his music tho, that will never change.

🏝Probably got a tan, which might be funny if he had his choker on through it all so it’ll leave that shape on his neck now.

🏝He’s a little annoyed by it and the triplets find it funny.

🏝He might complain about the sun being too bright tho, lol.

🏝Once the day is over, he literally does not carry anything back to the van.

Reiji:

🏝Reiji has everything ready before they leave.

🏝And he’s just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly.

🏝He’s hoping he can relax a little because the beach will keep his brothers busy.

🏝He goes for a swim because it's good exercise.

🏝He and his brothers drag Shu to go but Shu will only go if a hot chick catches his attention and she’s by the water.

🏝Reiji and Ruki are responsible for the food because we know that the boys can’t cook for sh!t.

🏝So they are in charge of the barbeque, and they fight over how to do things, such as how to season things, what temperature the meat shout be cooked at, when they should flip it, and when it’s done, etc.

🏝Azusa tries to help them negotiate but they just end up yelling at him and he becomes disappointed because they haven’t hit him. Yet.

🏝Apart from this he does try to relax by sitting on a chair and reading some things.

🏝 Reiji is probably wearing some swim trunks and button-up shirt that is somewhat undone, so girls can catch a glimpse of his chiseled chest.

🏝I mean have you seen this man?????!!!!

🏝He only takes off his shirt when he’s going to swim tho.

🏝 And he wears his sunglasses here, probably the kind that also works as glasses so he doesn’t have to have two with him.

🏝The triplets are always trying to sabotage things for him like they unscrewed the screws in the folding chairs just so he’d fall out of it.

🏝Oh and if he ends up falling asleep in the chair, they steal his sandals and hide them while he’s sleeping.

🏝They’ve also stolen his towel and gotten it wet in the ocean and then returned it to him.

🏝He was so annoyed and scolded them about their behavior while Shu was amused.

🏝He will not build a sandcastle but if he sees that Ruki is, it will lead to competition between the two about who can build a better castle.

🏝Reiji is also constantly telling his brothers to not cause trouble.

🏝If he’s near the shore but is only getting his feet wet, the triplets will just push him in.

🏝He doesn’t allow the triplets to use the yacht they have.

🏝“No, there will be no parties on father’s yacht.”

🏝And if they are making a fuss about getting ice cream, he gives them money because he won’t hear the end of it if he doesn’t.

🏝Sometimes Laito tries to coax him into looking at chicks with him but Rei tells him he’ll pass.

🏝He’ll be sitting in his lawn chair with his shades, reading a book or science article of some sort. So Laito will approach him and say, “The women you take interest in are no fun, now lighten up brother.”

🏝Reiji would sigh and take his shades off, “That’s because you have little regard for what a woman is. The females you take an interest in are far beyond from being ladies. They are young and incompetent girls.”

🏝“Ohhh, then perhaps you're into older women~”

🏝“Do not say such nonsense.” He’d say adjusting his glasses.

🏝Reiji may even participate in a sport with his brothers. In fact, he’s probably the one telling them to get good exercise and having them play volley ball.

Laito:

🏝Is really looking forward to going and can’t wait to see girls in their swimsuits.

🏝He and Ayato are trying to undo the strings on girl’s bikins.

🏝And their main goal is to pick up chicks.

🏝He wore a speedo, and I’m betting it's zebra or leopard print.

🏝Or even worse, green.

🏝Ayato said his outfit was silly and Subaru thought it was ridiculous but he simply told them they knew nothing about fashion.

🏝“Laito you look like sh!t.”

🏝Sits on a hammock and Subaru sabotages it.

🏝He brings rollerskates but he falls a lot.

🏝He does go in the water and he goes a little far in.

🏝However if he doesn’t realize what is on him, like seaweed for instance, he might freak out.

🏝I also see that he left his hat on his beach towel cause he didn’t want to get it wet.

🏝But knowing Ayato and Kino they’d use his damn hat as a freezbe and do it across the water in hopes of getting wet.

🏝Meanwhile, Laito is trying to stop.

🏝And it’s basically a monkey-in-the-middle situation because he can’t catch it.

🏝If he’s in a pool or in general if he plans to look underwater he brings goggles with him.

🏝He kinda looks like this dude → click here

🏝Oh and I bet he goes snorkeling and thinks the fish are cool.

🏝He’ll try to take pics of them and then put them in a scrapbook or something.

🏝He will laugh if the fish try to tickle him, and literally if he saw two fish mating he’d take a photo of it cause he thinks it's interesting.

🏝And then he’d show it to Subaru. “Don’t they look interesting? They are so innocent when they procreate, it isn’t like our kind.”

🏝“Shut up, idiot!”

🏝He plays volleyball with his brothers and Subaru makes sure they're on opposing teams just so he can win against him and possibly hit him with the ball.

🏝Although even if they were on the same team he’d still aim the ball at him when he’s getting on his nerves.

🏝Will complain about the water being pretty cold too.

🏝Ayato will make jokes about him being a mermaid and Laito becomes offended/upset.

🏝“That is just cruel brother, very cruel.”

Kanato:

🏝Wore a lilac button-up shirt and some white and purple swim trunks.

🏝He has the top somewhat button-down.

🏝Teddy and him have matching outfits.

🏝And he’s got nice black shades, with a tint of purple.

🏝Picks up chicks with his nice outfit.

🏝Spends time building a sandcastle but he honestly doesn’t have the patience.

🏝Especially if Ayato ended up kicking it because he was playing sports or something.

🏝He was so annoyed and made sure not to mess with Teddy’s sand castle ever again.

🏝Literally I could see him throwing seashells/sand at him and anyone who walks by.

🏝Laito might participate in helping him build it because he finds it fun but Ayato will just say its for kids.

🏝And Kanato doesn’t like it when someone calls him a kid

🏝But if they make a game out of it he wants to compete because Oreo-Sama is the best.

🏝He brought a little backpack where he keeps the sweets Reiji packed for him to avoid any possible tantrums he may give if he didn’t.

🏝And god forbid if a seagull swooped down and took any candy.

🏝He’d be enraged.

🏝And you can best bet that this little purple goblin would curse at it.

🏝He may even cry over this bc he’s such a child.

🏝If Ayato laughs at him he’ll just chase after him.

🏝I think he likes putting his feet in the water but if a seaweed came near him he’d be annoyed.

Ayato:

🏝Get’s sunburned easily (idk if vampires can actually get sunburned but whatever.)

🏝Brings a f*cking metal detector to check if he can find valuables in the sand.

🏝Subaru sees this and just thinks he’s an idiot.

🏝You know how his pants are rolled up on one side?

🏝His swim shorts are the same deal.

🏝Wears ugly neon green alien sunglasses and matches with Kino.

🏝He plays monkey in the middle with Laito and Kanato and Kanato is in the middle.

🏝Kanato gets fed up in two seconds and probably pops the beach ball.

🏝Tries to pick up chicks with Laito and Kino.

🏝But he just embarrasses himself.

🏝He and Kino bring their skateboards and try to do tricks.

🏝Knowing Ayato he has tripped over seaweed and even sand.

🏝He tries to go surfing and he fails miserably.

🏝He goes in the water and I’m not surprised if Kino and Shin schemed something together and made Ayato think there was a shark in the water.

🏝He was well convinced and completely left his surfboard due to fear.

🏝He really wants to use the boat his family owns so he can fish.

🏝He did this once over the bridge and fell over the railing and it was hilarious.

🏝Overall, he’s mostly just making a fool of himself throughout it all.

🏝I mean from how many girls he’s asked out or flirted with and he’s like tripped in front of them it just makes me laugh.

🏝Oh and he’s going all over with the “fake” treasure map he found with Kanato and Laito.

🏝And it’s just hilarious how they went around the whole town.

🏝If he’s in charge of grilling Shu’s special stake he’ll burn it and start a fire.

🏝And he will put out the fire by pouring a bottle of water over the stake because he’s lost all hope.

🏝And Shu hates him after that.

Subaru:

🏝He carries most of the supplies and stuff since Reiji asks him.

🏝He will complain slightly but after being able to trip Kou along the way he’s all for it.

🏝Will go out for a swim cause it will relax him.

🏝He wears a black tank top and swim trunks.

🏝Girls stare at his arms and he’s embarrassed.

🏝Laito literally even introduces him to girls he met and Subaru just gets flustered.

🏝He will look at girls in their bathing suits but try to cover up the fact that he’s looking.

🏝And if Laito catches, omg he will not hear the end of it.

🏝He will try to him his little bro get her attention.

🏝"Oh, I see you need some help in getting a girl's attention?" Laito would say.

🏝"Shut up!"

🏝"Well, a little push never hurt anyone." He’d say to his little brother before actually pushing him forward to bump into the chick.

🏝"Ok, you know what to do brother, take it from here."

🏝Meanwhile Subaru just wants to kick his @ss for pushing him forward and bumping into the chick.

Kino:

🏝Having drinks with chicks.

🏝Causally joins other people’s parties and bonfires.

🏝He comes with only his weird printed swim trunks and skateboard.

🏝He thinks the pattern looks cool but Ayato and Shin dis him about the f*cking print.

🏝Brings a boombox.

🏝Does any sport possible, so he’s definitely doing surfing and power cursing.

🏝Brings a polaroid camera, and f-ing films the whole time on his phone.

🏝Tries to make vines with Ayato and Shin.

🏝Will flip sh!t if Ayato eats a hot dog in front of him.

🏝He literally gasped before chucking the thing straight into the ocean.

🏝Right in front of Ayato’s eyes, leaving him speechless only to respond with, “Bruh.”

🏝He and Ayato play video games and literally argue.

🏝In fact, when they play volleyball they argue about who lost or who was out of bounds.

🏝He honestly doesn’t do much, he's just really obnoxious.

Mukami

Ruki:

🏝He wears those white polo shirts that are short sleeves so you can see his muscular arms.

🏝And it’s just one of those tight shirts they put on models, he looks good with it.

🏝F*ck

🏝Anyways, this boring @ss brought a book with him, of course.

🏝He will occasionally look up if he’s interested in some girl specifically.

🏝He’d be focused on his reading when the voice of girl caught his attention, causing him to lower his gaze on the female.

🏝He does get a little involved with playing sports if his brothers ask him or if he’s being challenged.

🏝Ruki is mostly busy reading, relaxing, or competing against Reiji in something.

🏝If he has a partner, he’d become more involved in the sense of messing around with her and pushing her into the water.

🏝but those are hcs for another time. ;)

🏝If he really wants to do something different he might build a sand castle.

🏝Other than that he doesn’t do too much but he does sometimes get in nerd debates with Reiji.

Yuma:

🏝He carried almost everything in like a few trips.

🏝He builds sandcastles with Azusa.

🏝Plays volleyball and makes sure Azusa is on his team and that Kou is on the opposite side.

🏝 He literally make sure the ball hits him down each time 😂

🏝Feeds the seagulls because he feels bad.

🏝But will get mad if they follow him.

🏝“Hey, look I was trying to help out. Now that’s enough.”

🏝Although if his brothers are not watching he will be more friendly towards them.

🏝“Huh, you guys really like bread, don’t ya?” He ask, petting one of the seabirds.

🏝 He’s not trying to but he gets a tan.

🏝 He’d be shirtless the whole time, he tried to even arrive shirtless but Ruki told him it wasn’t proper.

🏝 So he put a beach sweater on but then instantly took it off.

🏝 I say this because he probably thinks it’s hot a lot of the time.

🏝 I really can’t imagine the attire but probably orange swim trunks? Idk, just look at dive to blood when I don’t give a description 😂.

🏝 Will swim far out in the ocean.

🏝Is basically anywhere where Kou isn’t.

🏝Has a hard time relaxing bc he can almost never sit still.

🏝 Although once his brothers convince him enough to relax and he is finally able to and he’ll check out chicks even if his facial expression doesn’t display any hint of that.

🏝Though I say most of his time is spent watching Azusa and ambushing Kou.

Kou:

🏝He wore a light pink bucket hat and Yuma didn’t want to be around him cause he thought he looked dumb with it.

🏝”The only thing you are hurting right now are my feelings.” I see it like in this clip here. (idk if the clip is still in there, I hope)

🏝He also wore pink swim trunks and Yuma just can’t talk to him.

🏝And I see that he’s got wacky sunglasses like it’s just ridiculous.

🏝Subaru flips him off his flamingo floaty. (If they were at a pool anyways)

🏝 he’s honestly everywhere and his brothers just hope the disguise is enough knowing he’s an idol or he just might ruin everyone’s vacation.

🏝Which as you can imagine, that is exactly what happened.

🏝And believe me they were not happy about it at all.

🏝“Oh come on guys you know I didn’t mean to do this.”

🏝“That ain’t the point man, you always do this. This is why no one wants to bring you on trips.” Yuma would say annoyed by Kou’s excuse.

Azusa:

🏝He builds really nice sandcastles with water and stuff.

🏝He’s really good it, and people take photos of his work.

🏝Azusa will try to get stung by a dead jellyfish and Yuma has to constantly watch him to make sure he isn’t to far out into the sea to get eaten or something.

🏝“Azusa, get the hell out of there!”

🏝Azusa is pretty calm most of the time, he might sun tan because he hears it's relaxing.

🏝Although he’s mostly trying to find ways where he will feel pain.

🏝So everyone kinda worries about where he wanders off to sometimes or if he’s been gone for too long because he’s probably doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

🏝He’d literally stay in the water when there's a shark.

🏝He might even give it a name and try to pet it.

🏝Meanwhile Kou is screaming at him to get out of the water.

🏝Azusa would also probably try to throw himself on the boulders that he sees just to feel something and Yuma would constantly have to pull him away.

Tsukinami

Carla:

🏝He’s just trying to relax, but Shin won’t allow him.

🏝Because he’s either pulling pranks on him or he made some girl’s bf upset and now Carla has to fix things.

🏝Girls look at him but he’s not focused on this.

🏝He might be trying to paint the ocean tho.

🏝And he’ll probably paint a girl he found attractive too.

🏝He’s mostly exploring around the nearby gift shops and possibly buying souvenirs.

🏝Because he’s trying to “relax”.

🏝He’ll probably try to read or something and Shin is telling him to either get in the water or get a tan.

🏝Or get a girl.

🏝Shin wants to turn into his wolf form but Carla gets mad at him and tells him no.

🏝“What’s it going to look like if there is a wolf running around on a beach?” He’d ask his younger brother.

🏝Shin looked at him before shaking his head. “No one will notice.”

🏝”No, no wolf form.”

🏝“Fine, then I’ll turn into a snake.”

🏝 “No.” Carla anwsered.

🏝“A bat.”

🏝“No.”

🏝“An eagle.”

🏝”No. No, no, no! You will not turn into anything. Just stay in your regular form!”

🏝Overall, Carla’s really got his work cut out for him lol.

Shin:

🏝Came shirtless, and was about to come in his wolf form but Carla stopped him.

🏝 He’s doing some type of sport and tries to drag Carla into it.

🏝 Like Shin would try anything and Carla doesn’t like the idea because it’s usually reckless.

🏝 I could see Shin wanting to try power cruising and Carla is worried that Shin will just crash somewhere, leading him to be the one to cover the damages because he’s the oldest.

🏝 He’d also go cycling most likely, but he’d never wear one of those outfits.

🏝Idk if you guys are familiar with cycling at the beach but I live in a beach town and that’s what everyone does. Especially tourists, so yeah I could see that Shin rented a bike.

🏝That’s usually how it works, at least at the beach town I’m at. 😂

🏝And honestly the whole time Carla is just hoping nothing crazy happens.

🏝Aside from this if Shin is not cycling he’s probably doing stupid with Kino or checking out girls.

🏝That’s what the whole trip consists of.

🏝But if he turned in his wolf form it’d be another story.

🏝 It’d be so chaotic and Carla would be freaking out bc everyone is wondering why there is a wolf at the beach. 😂

🏝It’d get so bad that Carla would have to fake it and say that Shin is his husky 😂. This way no one will question.

🏝And then in the van he can give a long lecture about it and why he will never do this trip ever again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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all-de-fandoms · 5 months

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MEAN GIRLS MUSICAL MOVIE LESGOOO

I literally just found out about this today and- yeah yeah yeah I know the musical got a lot of hate but genuinely I adored it (and it was one of my go-tos whenever I got dragged to a scary horror movie!). So to find out that they're making a movie out of it..... I mean yes, I've got some mixed feelings, but mostly I'm excited!

I've listened to the movie album on Spotify already, and held it up against the original. I have lots of opinions.

Cast Performance

Erika Henningsen vs Angourie Rice as Cady Heron: I’m sorry Angourie I’m sure you’re great but Erika really put her soul into her Broadway performance. So much emotion, so much energy and personality in her voice. By comparison, Angourie mostly seems to be singing to sound good rather than to communicate parts of the story in the musical. (I will say however that she did do pretty good in her last song, “I See Stars”.)

Taylor Louderman vs Renee Rap as Regina George: Renee! She did actually play Regina on Broadway after Taylor Louderman. Truth be told, I love Taylor’s version (lol) the best but Renee’s is nothing to sneeze at either. 10/10, no notes.

Ashley Park vs Bebe Wood as Gretchen: Ashley Park did it better. Bebe’s songs are.. okay. But they did cut a lot of Gretchen’s lines in the MG 2024 Spotify album, so that does affect her rating.

Kate Rockwell vs Avantika as Karen: I can’t choose, they both did a good job with their roles. I feel like Kate’s Karen really echoed Amanda Seyfried’s Karen in the original movie, but from what I could tell in the Spotify album, Avantika’s spin on Karen sounds equally good. I do wish they’d given her more songs/lines!

Barrett Wilbert Weed vs Auliʻi Cravalho as Janis!! OH MY FUCKING GOD you guys. If Renee gets a 10/10 Auli gets an 11/10 from me. Auli'i definitely did her homework. Amazing, amazing, amazing.

Grey Henson vs Jaquel Spivey as Damien: There's absolutely nothing wrong with Grey's version of Damien, it's a very good match for the movie one. But Jaquel’s Damien? He had such a beautiful voice, he really went above and beyond for Damien. My vote’s for Jaquel all the way.

The Songs

I won’t be listing them all because that would make this post much too long but here are my highlights:

They cut “It Roars” for “What Ifs” in the movie. Booo. “It Roars” told a good story, “What Ifs” is forgettable, in my opinion.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s version of “Revenge Party” is awesome. She absolutely killed it (/positive) and although I’m not one to usually approve lyric changes, I love the enhancement to Janis’ character by making the song more bloodthirsty.

Renee Rap nailed “Someone Gets Hurt” but I expected no less of course.

They changed some of the lyrics in some of the songs. Some of the lyric changes were just one line, or shifting around of roles ("Apex Predator").

“Meet the Plastics” got pared down in the movie album. Actually, a lot of songs got pared down for the movie album, or just moved altogether. I guess it was to adjust for time, and also to accommodate Angourie Rice’s vocal range. Aaron apparently has no singing roles at all.

"What's Wrong With Me" is another one that got pared down. The original song from the Broadway version tops this one, hands down. Had more plot and characterisation to it, this one was. Not it.

They cut Karen's funny lines in the beginning of the song "Sexy" which. Again, is such a shame. Avantika did amazing though.

They changed parts of "I See Stars", but I'm not mad at it tbh

Final Thoughts

I think my main gripe with the movie (from what I can tell based on the Spotify album) is that Angourie Rice is just not built for the powerful belting songs that Cady sings in the musical. That’s not bad, but I just. Surely they could have found another actress to play Cady? One who could actually perform in a musical? I’m a little tired of people being cast in a movie musical and still singing as if they’re trying to record an album. They’re two different things, people.

I guess they were trying to communicate Cady’s innocent and naïve personality in the original movie? but they cut out the rest of her personality in the new songs, making her just. So flat. This is particularly noticeable in the Broadway version of “Stupid With Love” vs the movie one. We were also robbed of Cady's growl in the line "watch me shake my mane" from "Apex Predator" (which is one of my favourite parts of the musical!) It’s tragic, is what it is. I don’t think this is necessarily all Angourie’s fault- mostly, this is poor writing and/or directing.

Similar gripe with Christopher Briney, Aaron’s actor in the movie. Apparently, he didn’t even want the role when he found out it would be a musical, so they cut out Aaron’s singing parts for him. Like?? Just? Hire someone else? It’s a musical, they ought to be committing to it.

Auliʻi has such a freakin beautiful voice, and as far as her singing performance goes she is the perfect casting for Broadway-Janis. Her performance is on parr with Barett’s in my opinion. She is the perfect example of someone who almost certainly did her homework: she understands the role, she puts in the attitude, the grunge, the “fuck you” attitude that made Barett’s version so damn good. I freakin love her.

Honestly from what I can tell I do love most of the people in this album (Jaquel Spivey!!) except for Cady and Aaron. Which is kind of a shame.

#Mean Girls the musical #Mean Girls #Mean Girls 2024 #musical theatre #Broadway #Auli'i Cravalho #Barett Wilbert Weed #long post

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itsmymeaningoflife · 11 months

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Crowley and Take Me To Church- not a full essay but just a dump of my thoughts

• Starting off by saying that this song is an explicit criticism of how the church / Christianity has treated gay people / the LGBT+ community and how easily LGBT+ people within the church can lose their religion / faith because of this

•I think it makes sense for people to associate this song with Aziraphel for the obvious reason of he is an Angel and part of the church / Christianity. And then with the added layer of him being gay (using the term “gay” loosely, but as a fandom you guys know what I mean) and questioning some of the teachings and interpretations of the religion he upholds. The lyrics allows the association of Aziraphel with the lyricism about heaven, worship, God and the Church

• But this is CROWLEY’S song

• (All Demons are disgraced Angels) It’s almost as if he was cast out of heaven for his ‘sin’ of being gay

• and that he still holds onto his faith in God and the religion as an institution

• But it’s the CHURCH and GOD that has turned their backs on HIM, not the other way round.

• It’s as if Crowley is not only thinking about Aziraphel while listening to this song, but also contemplating what his existence could have been if he was an Angel like Aziraphel and Heaven didn’t fully turn their backs on him

•It’s as if Crowley is clinging to his previous faith, begging for a second chance.

“My lover's got humor

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshiped her sooner”

-Aziraphel has just enough mischief in him to not fully fit in and be a model Angel. And Aziraphels existence in the church, doing heavens biddings, in itself is a rebellion.

“If the Heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece”

-the word and morals of Aziraphel is the only thing keeping Crowley from renouncing “goodness” altogether. If Aziraphel can still think so highly of Heaven while living his existence as a “gay” Angel and not be punished for it, then these are the teachings of heaven that Crowley can see himself living by

““We were born sick", you heard them say it”

- Sick = gay / queer in this context. Both Crowley and Aziraphel were born this way. There is nothing they can do about it, yet Crowley feels that he is the only one being punished for his “sins”

“She tells me "Worship in the bedroom"

- While both Crowley and Aziraphel are both eccentric, Crowley is loudly eccentric - with his loud cars and music- while Aziraphel is quieter and softer. Aziraphel “got away” with his queerness in heaven because he wasn’t loud about it and kept it to himself, unlike Crowley.

“The only Heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you”

-Crowley won’t make it back to heaven, he’s too far gone for that, but having Aziraphel by his side for eternity, is better than that

“Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life”

-Crowley knows the teachings of heaven are hollow and just as manipulative as the teachings of hell, but if it meant that he could be seen as good and free of sin, he would grovel at the chance to regain his faith. Maybe because if he was an Angel, Aziraphel would be more willing to be in a full committed partnership with him

“Something meaty for the main course

That's a fine looking high horse

What you got in the stable?

We've a lot of starving faithful

That looks tasty

That looks plenty

This is hungry work”

-Crowley is so so so angry at the hypocrisy of heaven

- The demons were cast aside and left to live in squalor while the angels live a life of righteousness. Crowley has to work twice as hard for his good deeds to even count, just because he is a demon

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin”

- actually foaming at the mouth over this lyric

- Crowley sees nothing wrong with his feelings and partnership with Aziraphel. Their love for each other is so pure and gentle that he can’t comprehend how ‘this’ is what Heaven renounced him for

#good omens #crowley #aziraphel #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale

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mpregjohnwinchester · 2 months

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unfinished boymom!mary fic

hi here are some snippets from a little something i've been working on if you like it give me a boot up the arse to finish it please thanks

Snippet 1:

Dean’s taking the scenic route home in his father's car with the windows rolled all the way down and an AC/DC album at the lowest volume in the tapedeck, chewing a piece of gum to soak up the taste-hangover of tobacco and sweet chemical jungle juice, taking deliberate breaths of liquor-sweet summer night air to help his focus. He's on high alert; trying to look as though he's not. On a night like this, there's a high probability of a bored, jobsworth cop around somewhere, looking to catch a lone kid out.

And it's not that Dean doesn't know better than this. It's definitely not that he didn't have his share of horrific nightmares after that scaremonger video Miss Osterberg made them watch in health class, the one that had kids with burn scars and missing limbs and glass eyes from catastrophic accidents telling horrific stories while a grave voiced narrator spat statistics that sounded made up. Get home alive, was the slogan, flashing up in eerie white text on a black screen. Don’t drink and drive.

And Dean wouldn't. Not usually. He's a good kid. A good kid who graduated high school today with grades well in the upper echelon of his class, a good kid with lots of friends and an abundance of invitations to the various house parties he's been milling between with the guys all night. And Dean’s friends are still at those parties, jumping into backyard pools with their clothes still on, vomiting on each other’s shoes, slurring promises to stay in touch forever, even if they’ll be at colleges eight states apart in a matter of weeks. It’s not like any of them are in a fit state to give Dean a ride home themselves. Hell, not a single friend of his even has home on their minds, not at the pitiful hour of 2am where the biggest night of their lives so far should just be getting started. But Dean doesn't mind needing to leave early. He was getting pretty tired anyway.

And as he drives, down dead suburban streets with dark, sleeping houses, he's followed only by the shadows of gnomes and hydrangeas and mini wishing wells in tightly maintained front yards. He doesn't see a single soul, a single pair of headlights on the road other than his own. It’s rare, actually, that Dean knows such quiet. Such aloneness. And if there’s something comforting about it - well, it’s been a busy day. Lots of noise. Lots of people.

In fact, as Dean makes it to his own street - in one tipsy piece and sans new criminal record - he finds himself slowing down. Stopping altogether just on the corner, shifting the handbrake touched thoughtlessly again and again by his father’s hands; and Dean takes a second, just a second, to lean back in the cool old-leather seat he has vague, time-faded memories of Dad occupying, listening to the music he has vague, time-faded memories of Dad playing, if a little distorted now with taperot and age - and he thinks about how driving the Impala is kind of like sitting in a time capsule. Kind of like slipping unnoticed into someone else’s shape, someone else’s imprint on the world; somewhere Dean can quietly belong, in this moment anyway, because Dean’s so entirely, incredibly alone right now, and no one can tell him that he can’t.

And Dean runs his thumbs along that steering wheel - really listens to the music. It's new to him, Dad's old classic rock stuff, but he likes it, he thinks. Stuff Mom can't have on in the house, because it's too painful; stuff that he'd never think to seek out himself anyway. Kids at his school are mostly into Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Tupac, and Dean is into them too by osmosis, because it’s all he ever really gets to listen to. But maybe he too would have liked hair metal and face-melting classic rock, if Dad had lived.

He’s only had Dad’s Impala for a few months. Had no idea Mom planned to give him the keys for his eighteenth birthday; hadn’t ever really thought about it ever coming out of its tarpaulin wrapping in the garage again, like a sheet covering the dead. And Dean had been alone then, too; alone with that moment, as he’d peeled back that sheet with a trembling hand and opened the driver door to find everything exactly as he remembered.

Dad had been pretty messy. There was still a half-full cigarette packet on the dashboard, open so Dean could see the speckled beige tips, like Dad had been planning on coming back to them later. Cassette tapes on the passenger's seat, scattered, either stuffed into the wrong jewel cases or missing them entirely. There was a fast food wrapper under a layer of dust in the footwell. And the smell - car oil and blue collar sweat and trace cologne underneath. It kicked Dean square in the chest, that smell; flooded him with fragmented memories of this giant who’d come home in the evenings with dirty hands and pink tired eyes but still scoop Dean up in his arms with a big grin and a hey, buddy , spinning him around in the air until Dean was giddy and squealing, and Dad would be red in the face from laughing; and he’d take him out to the yard to kick a ball around before dinner even though he must’ve been exhausted, then at the weekends he’d ferry Dean down to the park and buy him an ice cream as big as his head with his finger on his grinning lips and a whispered, don’t tell your mother. And Dean had felt these memories like a freight train; climbed into the seat where Dad used to sit, and put his hands on the steering wheel Dad used to touch, and then he’d pushed his head against it too, and, alone and unseen, he broke down into the most violent, pathetic sobs of his life.

It’s hard, in the moment, not to do the same again. Hasn't been easy all day. Turns out there's nothing like graduating high school as the only kid in his grade without a father watching to bring it all back.

When he finally brings himself to stop the tape and get out of the car, he feels a little more sober; he can see a faint light still on in the living room. He breathes in a lungful of cooled but still humid night air, and thinks to himself, not for the first time, that he had absolutely no business going out tonight in the first place. If Dean’s feeling Dad’s absence today then god knows how Mom is feeling. But his friends wanted to party, and they wanted Dean to party with them, and they wanted Dean to drink and dance and hit on girls, and Dean just kind of gets swept up in things that way. He remembered wanting it strongly in the way Dean doesn’t usually want things, to do something normal, something kids his age are meant to do. Feel normal, like everyone else, when he felt anything but.

He opens the front door quietly. Sam will be asleep, or maybe awake with his headphones on and a book open under torchlight covers, but either way Dean doesn’t want to disturb him. Sam isn’t speaking to him at the moment. He’s not really speaking to Mom either, but that's just par for the course these days. He's fourteen and he’s sullen and he's angry. Mom says he's going through a phase.

The light is coming from that gothic looking lamp on the side table. There's a near full bottle of white wine next to it, accompanied by a glass with just dregs left inside. Mom is on the couch, in her silk white night slip, sitting with her bare legs crossed underneath her. Her shoulders rise as Dean comes in, but she doesn't look up.

“Mom?”

She runs a hand through her hair, scraped back off her face in the remnants of that pretty updo she spent an hour on before the ceremony, now a little unravelled and wild.

"Mom?” He tries a smile. “I'm home."

Her arms gather at her waist. She doesn't answer.

From her side profile, Dean can tell enough; her eyes are bleary, bloodshot, from the wine, sure, but Dean knows from the puffiness underneath and the mascara smears on her cheeks that she's been crying. Shit.

"I… I lost track of time. Didn't - uh, I didn't realize how late it was."

"Do you have any idea what's been going through my head, Dean?"

She still doesn't look at him. Like she can't bring herself to. The thought pierces Dean. He hovers, awkward hands by his side. “I'm -”

"I was about to pick up the phone and report you missing. Or dead, maybe. Not like I had any damn way of knowing."

That pit grows; he's never seen Mary this upset.

"Guess it would have killed you to answer your phone, huh? Guess a little courtesy call to let me know you weren't lying dead in a wreck somewhere was too much to ask."

"I - Mom, it won't happen again, I swear. I was - I was with the guys, and -"

“The guys. Sure.” Mary snatches up that wine glass. “But screw me, right? I’m only your mother.”

“Mom, don't - come on. It wasn’t like that.”

Except; it kind of was like that. It kind of was like Dean ignoring the vibrations of his phone, letting her calls go to voicemail unanswered. It was letting the texts that said things like Call me I’m worried and Baby come home its late barely read and unanswered. It took five missed calls in quick succession and a message reading Dean I really need you for Dean to get his ass in the car and drive back. To stop leaving his mother to rot. His loving, doting, widowed mother.

There are often nights like this, with Mom, where she gets all upset. Where Dean has to prise that wine bottle out of her hand and use every one of his learned tricks to get her to go to bed. But Dean doesn’t remember ever being the cause of her misery.

His mother drains the dregs in her glass in one angry gulp. Ignoring Dean. She’s never ignored Dean before. And it's like the world tilts the wrong way. Dean feels panicked, sick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snippet 2:

“Anyway,” Mary says, “I wanna hear more about the party.”

Dean isn't sure there's much to tell. He spent most of it a few stone’s throws away from the center of the action. He watched dance-offs. He returned hugs from drunk girls and listened to their stories about how Mr Clement is such an asshole and how could he only give me a B?, making consoling noises in the right places. He remembers making himself very, very scarce when a game of seven minutes in heaven broke out.

Dean asks, “What do you want to know?”

Mary picks up the wine bottle again. “You know, I loved partying when I was your age. It’s so fun, isn’t it? You’re young. You’re excited. All you wanna do is have a good time.”

Theres a smile on her face, but Dean can't quite place it. “I didn't know you used to party.”

Again, probably not the kind of thing a mother shares with her son either. But glimpses of Mary's life before, before Dad, before him and Sammy, are scarcely given, no matter what they look like, and Dean can't help but be obsessed with them when they arise.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean watches her top up her wine; fill the glass almost to the brim. “I went through that phase, honey. Drinking, boys. Sneaking out of the house.”

“Really? You did?”

Dean's half surprised; half thinking about how that's another thing. Sneaking out of the house - from who? From Dean's grandparents? Mom never really talks about them, either. Aside from things like this, as part of something else, a vague implication of their existence; not that they exist anymore, anyway. They died years before Dean was born.

“It's an exciting time,” Mary says. “You've got your whole lives ahead of you. You're at that age where you really believe you're gonna change the world.”

“It's too late to get philosophical, Mom,” Dean says, with a laugh. An apprehensive one.

Mary isn't quite looking at him. “Who was at the party, Dean?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean says. “Everyone, I guess.”

“Everyone,” Mary repeats, with this look on her face that Dean can’t quite translate. “Who’s everyone?”

“I don't know. Just - everyone.” Dean laughs a little. Feels like he’s answering the question wrong.

That look doesn’t wane. “You're being very vague, Dean.”

“I'm - not really sure what you want from me here.”

Mary's lips irk up in something that isn't quite a smile. “Were there girls, Dean?”

“Yeah, Mom, of course there were girls. Everyone in our grade was out.”

“Dean. What I’m getting at - is there a girl?”

A girl. Singular. And Dean guesses there was a girl. Kind of, depending on how you translate these things. He spent about five minutes in the blue part of the evening making out with Lara Stamp tonight; lovely Lara, with her pretty face and her wealthy Dad and her celebrity status popularity, her cheerleading tricks and her hair extensions and her designer perfume, her acrylic nails that kept catching on loose threads in Dean’s shirt when her hands wandered over his body, braver and more unrestrained than Dean’s. They'd been in Isaac Jones’ parents’ bedroom, the lights off, and Dean had tried to finger her a little, but she'd kept mewling and complaining he was hurting her - god, haven't you done this before? - and eventually she'd batted his hand away and she'd seemed annoyed when she'd kissed him again, and it was dry and awkward that time, the fire-fervor burned out. And Dean still doesn’t really know what he did wrong - why she muttered its like you’re somewhere else, Dean, its like youre always somewhere else - why she'd got up without a word and done her bra up again with her back to him, and then she'd said see you around and left, and Dean hadn’t seen her around at all, he hadn't seen her again all night. And Dean remembers going to look for another beer, unable to stop thinking about how strange her pussy had felt around his fingers, the first he’d ever touched, hot and squishy and somehow not like he expected; and he felt like an idiot, and a child, and a disappointment.

Yeah - after tonight, there’s definitely no girl.

“There’s no girl, Mom,” Dean confirms, aloud. Well aware of the pause he left before answering.

A faint smile passes Mary’s lips. “I’m not stupid, honey.”

“Mom -”

“Home so late? Didn't hear your phone?"

Mary looks towards her lap; she really thinks she's right, Dean realizes. He wonders if the tears and texts make more sense now. How strange it is that that would cross his mind at all.

"It’s only natural at your age, honey. I thought we don't keep.secrets from each other?”

Dean thinks back to those bank statements. “There’s no girl,” Dean says again. “I'd tell you, Mom, I swear.”

“Hmm,” Mary drags it out, like she doesn’t quite believe him. That smile gets a little sharper. “Well. I’ve got my eye on you, Dean Winchester.”

“Mom,” Dean tuts.

But Mary laughs, and takes such a long gulp of her wine that Dean feels a little sick by proxy. “Your father never strayed, Dean. Not once.”

“That's - good.” But of course Dad would never do something like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snippet 3

“This is all I always wanted, you know, To have things like this to worry about,”

She says it like she had worse to worry about once. Dean can feel those ceramic angels’ eyes staring into the back of his head from the cabinet, silent and knowing.

Mary’s lip quivers again, and when she takes Dean’s hand, the inside of her palm feels condensation cold. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head a little; a watery smile bursts through. “Nothing, honey. I just keep thinking about you up there today. How grown up and handsome you looked.”

Dean scoffs a bit. Handsome is Brad Pitt or salt-and-pepper bearded guys, not an awkward kid graduating high school, walking across a rickety stage in ill-fitting hire robes. Fighting the urge to hide his face for his mother's ear splitting cheering, louder than anyone else's. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. He has no reason to be embarrassed.

“I looked like an idiot,” he mumbles.

Mary narrows her eyes. Makes this deep furrow in her brow. “This is what I’m talking about, Dean. You just don’t see what everyone else sees.”

Dean finds himself thinking of the time his homeroom teacher waved him over before first period and handed him a flyer for some after school programme, Self Esteem and Me, telling him quietly that he should think about attending. He’d promptly thrown it in the trash on the way to first period and tried to forget about it.

And anyway, there’s this way Mary looks at him sometimes, when she’s had too much wine and too much to think; a look that’s unplaceable to anything Dean’s ever experienced. He thinks he knows what it is though; he thinks it’s a mother’s love. Mary says it’s the most powerful thing on the planet. And Dean knows he’s lucky to have it. There aren't many things in life that Dean feels good about, not really, overwhelmingly happy-good anyway. But that? That makes him feel amazing.

Mary touches his hair, gentle as when he was a little kid; runs her hands through it. He leans up into it like a dog, because her love really does feel so good . Like a warm blanket, or a hard drug. “You know what your father used to say, Dean?”

The mention of Dad is kind of jarring. As felt as he’s been all day, he’s remained unspoken, like he always does on big occasions. Like he always does unless Mary brings him up first. You keep Dad to yourself; you keep him in your head, ignore the elephant, no matter how violently it swings its trunk around. You never know how Mary will react.

Mary doesn't wait for Dean to respond. “He used to watch you for hours. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Playing with your toys, reading your books. You used to sound out the letters. Did you know that you taught yourself to read?”

Mary tells him these things sometimes. If you listen to Mary, Dean could tell the time at the ripe old age of eighteen months as well. He scoffs; “Yeah, Mom, sure. I was one of those Hemingway toddlers.”

“Dean. Listen.”

Dean listens.

“And do you know what he’d say?” Mary’s voice catches a little; her fingers get a bit more insistent in Dean’s hair. “He’d say, look at him. This kid is special. And I know all parents think their kid is special. But we didn’t just think it. We knew it. And - ”

Dean doesn’t hear most of those words. “Dad really used to say that?”

“Yeah,” Mary smiles, watery and weak. “He loved you so much, Dean.”

Dean can see tears crystallizing in her eyes again. He squeezes her hand, harder than he means to, but Mary doesn’t flinch.

“I only wish he could’ve seen you today. He’d be so damn proud of you.”

“Mom,” Dean whispers. He means to add, don’t cry . Or maybe just, don’t.

Would Dad have yelled the place down too? Would Dad have clapped him on the back and brought him home for a quick illegal beer and told Dean with tears in his eyes, son, I’m so proud of you ? Would Dad remember that time Dean sat in his lap looking at a space book, astronaut, with love in his voice, you work hard, kiddo, and you can be whatever you wanna be. You’re gonna make me so proud of you some day.

“Me and your father,” Mary says, with trembling lips, “we made your bones.”

Mary always says this. Dean doesn’t know exactly what it means, but sometimes it’s just better to let her talk.

“You,” she whispers, “You - you’re all I have left of him.”

“Don’t say that, Mom.” But Dean can see how it’s true. What else is there?

“It’s not fair,” Mary whispers. “It’s just - it’s so damn unfair .”

It is. Unfairness has been a curse on this house, their lives, and as Mary’s voice cracks on the word, Dean feels that like a knife, this blunt, breath-snatching agony in the center of his chest; he hides it from Mom though, because seeing Dean sad only ever upsets her even more. She doesn’t need that tonight; so Dean shoves it down, as Mary lays her head against his, one of her ways of seeking comfort. On his shoulder.

Dean gives it by laying a steadying arm around her. the way he envisioned Dad might do if he were to comfort her, if he had to be strong for her. He feels that delicate warmth under his palm, the way her chest is heaving a little, and he wishes with everything inside him that he knew how to take her pain away. But he can’t.

Dean isn't good at many things in life. But he's good at giving comfort.

He listens to Mary draw a breath. Feels it himself, like the wind. “But hey, Dean. It’s our lot in life, right?”

She calls it that a lot, our lot in life. And Dean thinks about it often; sounds like something you were given, something you can’t help, something you cant change even if you wanted to. That lack of control is terrifying, but there’s something oddly comforting about it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Snippet 4:

They sit there like that for a while. Close, quiet. Dean thumbing away the tears on his mother’s cheeks. Her forehead sticky against his. Her hand gripping his so tight that it smarts, but Dean can handle it. There’s not a sound from upstairs, from outside. Suburban quiet, peaceful and dead still, enough that Dean can hear his breaths, hear Mary’s, out of sync with each other. Dean can feel Dad alright. Billowing around the room like smoke. Multiple sets of his eyes looking out at them from the photographs lining sideboards, cabinets, staring out into this beautiful suburban living room that should’ve been his home forever.

Sometimes it niggles at Dean, that he doesn’t know entirely what happened. When he got a little older, old enough to understand things a little better, he was told Dad died in an accident at work, with the kind of sparse details that hinted he really didn’t want to know them. But Dean has this vague memory, before that, maybe not long after it happened; he was small enough to sit in his mother’s lap still, and he wasn’t speaking, he remembers that; he didn’t speak for a whole year after it happened. But he remembered Mom holding onto him a little bit like now, crying a lot like now, and holding Dean so close his little ribs felt like they’d snap, and she kept whispering over and over, it got him, baby. The demon got him.

And as he’s gotten older Dean has thought back to that moment and how he must be misremembering. How Mom must have said demons plural. As in Dad’s demons got him; that maybe Dad made the accident happen, on purpose, to pulverize those demons along with his body. He wonders though; what those demons were. He knows Dad was a veteran. Mary keeps his dog tags on the shelf with his photos. Could be something to do with that, maybe.

Or something different entirely. Dean remembers Mom and Dad fighting sometimes. He remembers it getting worse after Sammy was born. He remembers being woken up by the sound of Sammy’s fitful newborn cries, underpinned by stage whispers, clearly not for his ears, but Dean could hear them, harsh and venomous, and then the whispers would stop altogether and there’d be yelling, there’d be words that Dean knew were curse words, then a door would slam and Dean would hear the Impala starting up in the driveway, and then he’d hear a rattle, like Mom was kicking or punching something, and he’d clutch his tatty blue teddybear close to his chest and not be able to sleep until he heard Dad come back again. He remembers this fear, this loud, cold fear, that Dad might not come back at all.

It happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snippet 5:

“Please, Dean?” A wan, slightly pleading smile. “I don’t wanna be alone right now. Can we just stay up and talk or something?”

Her voice cracks, and Dean can’t bear it. And besides; he knows his mother is incredibly, desperately lonely. The air in the room is warm, musky, balmy air filtering in through the open window. Smells fresh, intertwines with the Fresh Linen and Orange Blossom reed diffusers Mary has on her shelves. The traces of Diorella perfume on Mary’s body, all she’ll ever wear, because Dad loved the smell. It’s so - it’s all so comforting to Dean. All he’s ever known.

He smooths her hair out of her face; “Alright, Mom. I’ll - we can talk. Sure.”

There’s a new flush of life on her face, like she’s reanimated. “Lay down with me, Dean?”

Dean can’t explain his hesitation to himself. The words hitting him wrong again. It won’t be the first time he’s had to sleep next to her. Making sure she doesn’t aspirate on her own vomit, if she’s been throwing up for reasons she attributes to anything but alcohol or medication, or when he hears her having one of her nightmares, the really bad kind where she cries out in her sleep. And as Mary hoists herself up on the bed, shifts over clumsily to make room for Dean, he thinks about Sam - it’s weird, the two of you are weird, and no, we’re not , he snaps back at him in his mind. Sam just doesn’t understand, doesn’t even know he’s fucking born.

And with that in mind, Dean shrugs it off and carries on taking care of his mother. Climbs up onto the bed, with its Febreze locked into the fibres, the smell of Mary’s citrus shampoo on the pillows; and Mary’s facing him and leaning on an elbow, and she shifts a little closer on the mattress, until her bare calves are brushing against Dean’s.

Everything is very, very quiet. So quiet that Dean can hear the blood go solid in his veins. Dad’s blood. Dad’s bones. We made your bones.

So quiet that he can hear the elevation in Mary’s breath. Hear the whisper of his shirt under Mary’s fingers as she runs them down his chest. There’s a different quality to her wine-spaced eyes, a quality Dean recognizes; the way Lara Stamp looked at him earlier before he let her down. Adjacent to the feeling stirring the hairs on the back of his neck when he’d sense his gym coach staring at him sometimes. Maybe not the first time Mary has looked at him that way, if Dean is really honest with himself, especially not on nights like this; there’s an amnesia block on that look , whenever it isnt happening.

But this is different. This is the first time Dean can really see the shiver rolling through his mother’s body.

Mom’s lips part. “Promise that no matter what - you’d never leave me?”

“I’m - Mom, are you with me? You know I’m -”

Not Dad dies on his tongue. Mary is with him alright.

There’s a strangeness to it that makes the world feel off kilter, upside down, and entirely changed in just a second; and he watches Mary’s lips flutter. “Can I show you something, Dean?”

She cups Dean’s face in her hand and leans in close, so close; and she doesn’t wait for an answer. Mary’s lips taste like ethanol and sugar, and her little gasp snags on the corner of Dean’s mouth; and her tongue is - god - Mary’s tongue is on his, plush wet and insistent; and there’s this heat-rush in Dean’s blood, this sense of the body he feels indifferent to and disconnected from most of the time switching on in a way it never has before.

He makes a choked sound. He might actually be choking. It’s panic; it’s something more complicated. And Mary draws back immediately, and her face is burst capillary flushed and her breaths are rough and she looks so pretty and fragile and she’s everything, she’s everything to Dean, and he’d do anything for her, and he’s mixed up and sick with it, and maybe that’s why he’s shaking, an earthquake in his bones -

“It’s okay,” Mary whispers, hands running manically through his hair. “Don’t be scared, baby. It’s okay.”

She whispers it over and over, like a prayer, like a mantra; hooks a leg over his waist, presses her chest up to his, and Dean can feel the press of her tits, her crotch. Her - her cunt .

His head is spinning. It’s moving fast, fast . Mary rolls her hips, slow, shudders through her lips; insistent press into Dean’s dick, rush of cotton-denim friction -

“Dean,” Mary sighs, eyes devil dark, both hands on his face, “Have you ever fucked a girl before, Dean?”

“N-no,” Dean stutters out.

It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud; and he’s sure the shame of that shows on his face, but Mary would never judge him, never think less of him for anything; and Mary just lets out this long breath and says, “Okay. That’s okay. I’ll show you.”

It occurs to Dean that maybe Mary seems more sober than she did just now; and he lets her take his hand, he lets her, Dean lets her; he watches her parted lips brush over his fingers like they aren’t his.

“I’ll show you,” Mary says again, breathless. “Just relax. Let Mommy show you, okay?”

“O-okay,” Dean chokes again as Mary’s lips close around his fingertips, and she holds his gaze as she suckles around them gently; her mouth feels soft and hot, and the sensation is new to Dean, alien, and he can’t decide what he feels for it. Mary gasps; and Dean watches, watches the glisten of saliva that isn’t his on his fingers, watches Mary move his hand between her legs. Beneath her white slip, she’s been wearing white all day; she's not wearing panties.

Mary’s eyes roll. “You feel that?”

Dean does. Silk heat, wiry hair. Wet. She feels different to Lara.

A sound catches in his throat.

“Touch me,” she breathes out, millimetres from his lips. “It’s okay. I want you to.”

“Mom,” Dean stutters back, and no, and don't just won’t quite follow; and Mary catches it on her mouth, and her kiss is so rough this time that Dean’s blood hums and his hips jerk; and he can feel Mary’s hands, on his shoulders, on his chest, hear her moan dragging against his teeth, and then heat-air hits his chest, she’s getting his shirt open; and Dean’s supposed to be touching , so that’s what he does. Blindly drags his saliva-wet fingers across Mary’s folds, her gasp like an electric shock; lips going slack against his as he cautiously pushes one inside. Silk soft clutch, and Dean isn’t sure what to do, whether he’s supposed to move it or what; but then Mary growls, fists his half-open shirt, and Dean’s breath catches for the drag of teeth against his lower lip.

“God, now,” she mutters. “Dean, I need you now.”

And it happens fast, it happens so so fucking fast ; Dean’s body is stiff and puppet-like all at once, and the light in the room is too bright, those laundry-perfume scents in his throat, and he’s staring up at Mary, straddling his hips, her eyes closed as she tugs at his belt buckle, the zipper on his jeans; the hiss of it hits Dean’s back teeth. And something washes over him, then; like a feverish waking dream. Looming vivid images of himself loading up the Impala at the quiet crack of dawn, filling the trunk, backseats, with labelled cardboard boxes, a college acceptance letter in the glove compartment on top of the photograph of his family and his enrolment paperwork. Parties, people from different states and countries, coffee shops and lecture halls; and Dean would change, he’d grow, he’d find himself , that’s what his teachers kept saying about college, that you find yourself there; and maybe Dean would meet a beautiful girl who was studying law or medicine or something, and on graduation day he’d propose to her and give a spiel about her being the love of his life, down on one knee outside the lecture hall where they first met, and she’d cry and jump and say yes, yes , and there’d be a beautiful wedding and Dean would get onto a graduate scheme and go to work in a suit and they’d go for fancy dinners and they’d travel, they’d live the kind of life his friends want. Although it wouldn’t even need to be that fancy; Dean could stay in Lawrence, he could move out now, he could get a job as a bartender or a bricklayer and rent a shitty apartment, he could run into Lara Stamp at the mall or the gas station one day on accident and end up reconnecting, and she’d give him another chance, and he’d blink and he’d be married, and her rich Daddy would buy them a beautiful house in an upmarket neighbourhood, and they’d have three beautiful babies who’d go to private school and go on to do great things, and Dean would be stable, life would be stable, and Lara would age beautifully and he’d be the kind and steady glue man-of-the-house holding it all together, and it would be a damn fucking good apple pie life.

But that’s not Dean’s life, because his father is dead, and his home is sad and broken, and his baby brother’s got the devil in him these days, and his mother needs him louder than the oxygen in her blood. And Dean thinks back to that drink-drive video Miss Osterberg showed, the deaths, the injuries, the statistics. Thinks about what it would be like if Dean became one of them, if he’d given into careless driving and veered off the road and if his car had rolled over three times and caught fire, and it’d be gruesome and bloody, and god, what would happen if Dean never made it home at all -

But he did, and now this is happening. His dick is bare, it’s hard and his mother’s hand is on it, her other hand on his chest, and she’s bared over him, bracing herself, and her hair is in his face, and this is fucking happening ; and Dean’s panting and still, and Mary’s face is close to his, and she’s panting too; and if Dean is crying a little, no one seems willing to point it out, least of all himself.

“I love you,” she whispers, tender like a promise, gut-suck horrifying; “I love you so much, my sweet baby boy.”

And Dean clings to that. Clings to Mary, to her hips, unsure what to do with his hands, as she sinks down onto his cock, silk-hot-clutch, god, brand new sensation, scrambles Dean’s head, he’s never felt anything like it; and Mary’s eyes flutter closed, she moans, pitchy-loud, a sound Dean should never know. But it can’t hurt when you’re nothing, and you don’t know what you want.

“Love you,” she gasps again, head tilting back, “fuck, love you so much.”

Dean can feel himself getting harder. Feel his body taking over, pushing him deeper inside himself, building a wall between him and how fucking good his mother feels inside. Her head tilting back like an exorcism, her mouth open, as she rocks on top of him, her hands grabbing, up in his shirt, his hair, her mouth open; and those cries are words sometimes, they’re cries of fuck and Dean and sometimes they’re cries of John , they blur up, and Dean feels heavy and far away; and it doesn’t matter who Mary’s calling for anyway, because Dean is both blank canvas and magic mirror, he’s made of fragments that don’t make a whole, and it just doesn’t matter. It’s his lot in life.

#deanmary #mary live john dies au #unedited #preseries #butterfly effect #tw non con

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primroseparker · 2 years

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I Wish I Were… || TASM!Peter Parker x female!reader (Part 1)

Summary: You and Peter have been childhood friends, yet he doesn’t know how you really feel about him. When he falls for someone else, you use your musical talents as a way to express your feelings.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love (?)

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fic ever, so please excuse the horrible writing. I’ve wanted to write this for so long now. I got the idea when I was listening to “Heather” by Conan Gray for the thousandth time that week. Obviously, I don’t own the song or its lyrics, so all credits go to the wonderful Conan Gray for that masterpiece. Also, this is not proofread, sorry lol

You look at the sight before you. Spread out over the vibrant green grass were several couples having a picnic for the most romantic day of the year—Valentine’s Day. As you continue to walk through the park with a coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other, you notice how there are couples everywhere. The more couples you see, the faster you walk towards your destination. Of course you would forget about Valentine’s Day. It was the one day that you wish you could just skip altogether because it only served as a reminder that you were a victim of unrequited love. You near your best friend’s apartment building, quickly approaching the main entrance and climbing up the stairs. You knock twice on his door and wait for his response.

“If it’s you, y/n, you better have a good excuse for being this late,” he says as he opens the door. How anyone could ever miss this man’s beauty was still a mystery to you. Over the course of your friendship, only a few people had expressed interest in him. Most only saw him as the awkward nerdy guy whose forte was science and photography, not as someone who was sweet, caring, passionate, and attractive. But you saw him for who he truly was; it was exactly what had made you fall in love with him. His chocolate brown eyes looked at you with a hint of playful annoyance.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted by how many people were at the park today,” you admit as you enter his apartment. “I don’t know why I’m always surprised to see so many couples at the park, especially on a day like today. I never understood the appeal of eating on the ground while bugs try to eat your food. If I ever go out with someone, a picnic is the last thing I would do for a date”

“Really? I would do it if I had a girlfriend,” Peter states, “I mean, there’s nothing better than enjoying the fresh air while eating your favorite food with your favorite person. I think it would be nice, don’t you think?”

“Well, now that you put it that way, I don’t think it would be that bad,” you say while you hand him his breakfast. He takes it from you and gives you an adoring smile, one that usually makes you lose your train of thought.

As you both sit on his couch, Peter takes a sip of his hot drink and starts to remove the plastic wrap from the muffin.

“Oh, by the way, I’d love to introduce you to Gwen. I’ve been talking to her for a few months now, and I’m telling you, this girl is special,” he says as he takes a bite of the small domed cake. As he chews on the muffin, you notice how hard he’s trying to contain his smile.

That’s when it hits you—all those months of him canceling plans you had made together and ignoring your calls and texts suddenly made sense. He had been with her the whole time.

He doesn’t notice how your face falls as he says this. Instead, he continues by telling you all about this special girl. “There’s this fair that’s opening today. I know we made plans tonight to watch Back to the Future, but wouldn’t it be more fun for all three of us to go to this fair? That way you can meet her and we can hang out too. It’s a win-win situation, don’t you think?”

You drop your gaze, fearing that he could see the pain in your eyes.

“Yeah, sure. I need to go run some errands before we go out tonight. I’ll see you there, alright? Enjoy the muffin, bug boy,” you say as you rise and head towards the door.

As you walk down the stairs, you begin to question whether agreeing to meet Gwen was a good idea. Would you be able to handle seeing the two of them together, giving each other small smiles as they flirt back and forth? It probably wouldn’t be that bad, right? You’ve seen a few girls hit on Peter in the past. Even when he did flirt back, you always managed to suppress your jealousy, never letting it show on your face. You walk down the street, hoping that you had enough willpower to get through the night without breaking down.

—

As you approach the loud, vivid, and colorful scene before you, the sight of your favorite person holding the hand of a beautiful blonde catches your eye.

“Hey y/n!” Peter says as he sees you. He lets go of her hand and gives you a quick hug, almost as if he were afraid to touch you. “This is Gwen Stacy. And Gwen, this is y/n. We’ve been friends since the third grade. This one here was the only one that stood up for me when all those other kids made fun of me.”

“Yeah well, someone had to stop them from harassing the smartest and most kindhearted kid in our grade,” you answered as you and Peter gave share a small smile.

“That’s so sweet, I’m glad you guys remained friends after all these years,” the blonde says as she smiles brilliantly at you. All you could think about was how pretty and kind she seemed. It made sense why Peter had taken such interest in her.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go play some games!” he says as he pulls both of you toward the ring toss stand.

To no one’s surprise, Peter easily wins the game. As the employee hands Peter his prize, he looks at Gwen and says, “It must be nice to have a boyfriend to win you all the prizes you want, huh?” as he smiles at her.

“Yeah, I’m a lucky girlfriend indeed,” she says as grins at Peter.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you guys were officially dating,” you sputtered out.

“Well, it just happened a few minutes before you got here, actually,” Gwen beams at Peter. They smile at each other, Peter’s gaze going from Gwen’s lips to her eyes. He turns to look at you.

“Remember that blue sweater that I love so much? Well, when she mentioned she was cold, I gave her the sweater with a note on its front pouch,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket and shows you the note.

Property of Peter Parker.

Only the most special, gorgeous, and lovely girl is allowed to wear this sweater.

Will you be my girlfriend?

Until that moment, you had never experienced what true heartbreak felt like. Sure, you had moments of jealousy and sadness when you watched Peter flirt with other girls, but nothing could ever compare to what you are feeling now. You feel a tightness in your chest, making the air feel like razor blades moving through you. Your eyes welled with tears as you try to hold them back.

“That’s so sweet. I’m so happy for you guys,” you reply in a mumble as you look down to the ground. Peter gives you a smile and turns to Gwen, putting the note in his back pocket and leading her toward the other games.

You knew Peter expected you to follow them, but it was all becoming too much for you to handle. Afraid of letting Peter see just how devastated you are, you turn on your heel and rush toward the street. As he turns to look for you, he sees you quickly walking through the crowd before losing sight of you.

“Where’s y/n, Peter?” Gwen says as she, too, looks around to find you.

“I’m not sure,” he whispers in confusion as he pulls out his phone and calls you. It goes straight to voicemail. Little did he know, you had turned off your phone as soon as you had gotten into the cab. Peter’s worry for you grew, his brow furrowing in confusion. You had never acted this way, after all. What could have possibly triggered you so much that would make you do this?

—

You sit by your bedroom window, staring into the distance. New York City at night was beautiful; the countless lights in the buildings made you wonder about life. At times like these, it would suddenly hit you that each of those lights came from someone’s home and that each person had a life full of love and heartbreak; full of happiness and anger. They had their ups and downs, their own heart-rendering and joyful experiences. They were the main character in their own life, just like you were the main character in your own life. You wonder about the lives of the people in those buildings. Have they ever experienced heartbreak like yours? Did they know what it was like to love someone so deeply, know their deepest secrets, and yet only be able to love them from afar? Did they know what it was like to care so deeply for someone with the most dangerous job in New York City? While most could understand what heartbreak felt like, none could possibly understand exactly what you were going through. After all, there was only one person that knew Peter’s secret.

Even though you had supported Peter through every difficult moment—from comforting him while he grieved for his uncle to patching him up every time he came to your apartment after his patrols—you still weren’t enough for him, you think. It was all becoming overwhelming. You yearn desperately for relief from what seems like never-ending torture. You want to talk to someone about this, but doing so would require you to reveal Peter’s secret. Betraying your best friend like that was out of the question. No matter how much pain you are in, you know your secrecy is vital to his safety. While you know you’re doing the right thing, you have never felt as alone as you do now. You turn back to face your room, desperate to find a way to stop feeling so emotionally suffocated. While you may not be able to tell Peter how you really feel about him, using music is the perfect way to vent your frustration and hurt.

You quickly stand up from your bed, grabbing your songbook on your way out. You exit your bedroom and head towards your little music corner by the living room window. Flipping through the pages as fast as you can, you feel the sharp edge of a page cut your skin. Dropping the songbook, you cradle your hand instinctively. You look down at it, noticing how the small drops of blood emerge from the wound and meet the surface of your skin.

Huh, you think to yourself, I guess this is what I get for being so naive. I don’t know why I even thought Peter would ever look at me as someone more than a friend. Maybe the universe thought emotional pain wasn’t enough.

You gather yourself, knowing that concentrating on playing your music would take some of that pain away. Not the physical pain caused by the papercut, of course. But perhaps singing your heart out would bring some relief to your broken heart. As you carefully continue flipping through the pages and ignoring the stinging sensation on your finger, you find the song you had been working on for the past few years.

A song inspired by seeing your best friend with other girls, secretly hoping that you could be in their place. Though you hadn't finished writing the lyrics on your songbook, you were sure that it would still help nevertheless. Seeing Peter and Gwen together that night made you realize that you could never be her. You could never be what he not only wanted but needed. It was enough to inspire the rest of the lyrics for that song.

You turn to face your keyboard and begin playing. You start to sing softly, hoping that it would help you keep your tears at bay.

Only if you knew how much I liked you

But I watch your eyes as she

Walks by

What a sight for sore eyes

Brighter than the blue sky

She’s got you mesmerized while I die

As you continue to sing with more passion, you become unaware of the sound coming from your fire escape—the sound of feet hitting the metal, the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom window and opening it, and the sound of footsteps behind you. Peter walks quietly towards you, afraid of startling you. But as he listens to your voice, he begins realizing what the song is really about. He recognizes the details, feeling his heart skip a beat as he begins putting the pieces together: you being so distant that day, seeing your features twist in pain as he mentioned how he had given Gwen his favorite sweater, the one that he had allowed you to wear for years.

But you like her better

I wish I were…

Just as Peter is about to touch you, a sob escapes you, letting your shoulders drop in defeat.

Peter had never seen you in such pain. Guilt begins to gnaw at him. He turns his back on you and walks swiftly to the window, knowing full well that he needed to think things through before talking to you. As he prepares himself to swing toward his apartment, he hears your broken whisper, “I wish I could be enough for you, Pete.”

That day, Peter Parker—your childhood best friend and the person you loved the most in this world—was the one to cause your first heartbreak.

—

Please let me know if you’d like a part 2! <3

Part 2

#peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #spiderman #masterlist #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #angst fanfic #angst #tasm peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 8 months

Text

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 23

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3365

Warnings: Swearing, reference to sex

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Long Hot Summer American Country Love Song

****

Hangman

Sleep evaded the Texan all because of three little words spoken days earlier: "Fine. I'll come." Coming from anyone else, they would've meant nothing. This, however, came from Ghost. The girl who refused to speak to him, let alone be around him, ever since Ghoul's death. The girl who discarded him from her life like an undesired weed in a garden. He understood why, of course. Why would Ghost keep him around? The guy who killed her best friend and nearly killed her? She'd made it clear their first night at the Hard Deck that she still blamed him, specifically after her 'watery grave' comment. He'd given up hope that night that they could ever be more than 'old acquaintances.'

Therefore, when Ghost agreed to have him pick her up on Saturday morning for dogfight football, he'd been more than a little taken aback. Even if he'd used a cunning argument in an attempt to get her to agree, Hangman had not expected it to actually work. Ghost hadn't called or texted him to cancel the pickup and say she'd changed her mind, deciding to drive herself; she hadn't canceled the plan altogether, either. No. She had confirmed the pickup with Friday evening, to which he naturally responded yes.

By the time Hangman was meant to head over to Ghost's place, he'd been up for four hours already, spending most of that time working out to alleviate his nerves over being alone, truly alone, with Ghost for the first time since the accident.

"Come on, man," Hangman mumbled to himself, shouldering his duffel bag. "You've faced a fifth-gen fighter in a fourth-gen and won. You can handle a twenty-or-so-minute car ride to get coffee and to go to the beach."

He tossed his stuff into the back and slid into the driver's seat. Country music blaring, he cruised over to Ghost's apartment. He texted her: Here. Hangman exited the truck and waited impatiently at the passenger side door, keeping his hands tightly clasped in front of him to stop himself from mindlessly fiddling his thumbs. Ghost appeared a moment later, somehow holding her guitar case and tote bag in one hand, locking her door with the other, and having her phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder, a smile lighting up her face. As she approached Hangman, he heard her say: "That sounds great! Listen, my ride is here, but call me later, and we can talk more about it... sounds good. Bye!"

"Hey, stranger," Hangman greeted happily, relieving Ghost of her baggage and opening the passenger door for her.

Ghost returned the sentiment with equal enthusiasm. "Morning!"

"You're in a good mood this morning," he said after putting her stuff in the back and sliding into the driver's seat. "What gives?"

"Do you remember Leo Wolfe?"

Hangman thought back to the chubby, baby-faced cadet he'd sat next to a decade ago. "Yeah, he's Wolfman's son, right?"

"Yeah. You only met him once at my high school graduation dinner, but we've stayed in touch. He's in San Diego for his friend's bachelor party and wanted to visit. I haven't seen him since a little after we graduated from the Navy, so it's been a long time coming."

"That'll be nice. Isn't he a pilot, too?"

"WSO. Followed in his dad's footsteps. Callsign Wolfie."

Hangman chuckled. "Fitting. So, let me guess-" he pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru- "venti iced chai and a ham and Swiss croissant?"

"Yeah, how do you remember that?" Ghost queried, tilting her head.

"You've ordered the same thing for as long as we've gotten Starbucks together. The only time you differ is when the weather turns cold, or Fall hits because then you order a hot chai latte or an iced pumpkin chai latte, respectively."

"Why try something new when my current drink orders are perfection?" Ghost scoffed in mock offense. Hangman shot her an impish grin in response, then leaned out the window and put in their order. As he pulled to the window, she asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on me," he said nonchalantly.

"Jake-"

"No protests. You can repay me by explaining why you're bringing your guitar to dogfight football. Pretty sure we can't throw it, nor do I think you want us to."

"Thank you. That's sweet of you." Ghost shoved her cash back into her wallet. "As for the guitar, Juliette said Penny was hosting an open mic night today, and I thought if I wasn't too sweaty and gross after football, I might do a set or two."

"If you want a partner-"

"You'll have to fight Rooster and Jules for those spots, but you're welcome to try."

"I'll take my bets with Rooster. I know better than to go against Princess."

"Don't we all. How did you two become so close? I know you two became friends during the training detachment, but she seems closer to you than the other Daggers."

Hangman shrugged, hoping to convey indifference despite having had deep feelings for Juliette at one point, feelings that still occasionally arose. "We had a very short, what did you use to call it... flirtationship?"

"You and Juliette were a thing?" Hangman could've sworn Ghost's voice went up an octave.

"Not unless you count a couple of spontaneous kisses a thing before Bradshaw reeled her back in. I don't know... we just kind of clicked. It probably helped that I saved Rooster's life." Hangman did not elaborate further, but the words he wanted to stay remained on the tip of his tongue: Juliette reminded me of you, and I fell for her because of that before I had the chance to stop myself. Unable to gauge how Ghost would react to such a statement, he decided silence as the best option. "What about you and Bradshaw?"

Ghost flushed. "Oh, well, uh, we were always friendly, but we both were going through some shit after we graduated Top Gun. We got drunk together, one thing led to another, and we- we might've hooked up..."

Hangman gasped over-dramatically, clutching his heart. "You didn't!"

"I wasn't friends with Juliette yet! I didn't even know they had dated!" Ghost protested, her cheeks flushing an even deeper maroon.

Hangman laughed good-naturedly and patted her thigh. "Don't worry. I'm messing with you. I already knew about it."

"You- how?"

"Word spreads fast, and one of my associates saw you two leave the bar together and then also saw y'all leave Bradshaw's apartment the morning after."

Ghost narrowed her eyes, mulled over her thoughts briefly, then said, "It was Firefly, wasn't it?"

"It was Firefly. Gotta ask, though, does Princess know?"

"Oh, yeah. Jules could tell by the absolute evaporation of color in my face when she showed me a picture of Rooster that I knew him. It didn't help that I'd literally told her maybe five minutes beforehand how I'd had the best one-night stand of my life right after Top Gun. To say I was mortified barely covers it."

"You getting with Rooster isn't surprising. In fact, I'm shocked you two never dated. No, I'm more surprised that you had a one-night stand with him."

"He's the only one-night stand I've ever had, and I swear to God, if that leaves this truck-"

"I'll be the victim of friendly fire. Don't worry; your secret's safe with me," Hangman promised, handing Ghost her drink and food. Grabbing his, paying, and thanking the barista, he pulled back onto the main road and headed toward the Hard Deck. "Speaking of dating, outside of Kyle, have you dated anyone recently?"

"Not really. Dated one guy for a few months, but he got shipped to a different place, and we broke it off because of the long distance. Maybe if we'd had more time to spend with each other, it could've worked out. I met him because of Leo, actually. He asked me to keep an eye on his friend because he'd just lost his mom." Ghost leaned her head back against the seat and rolled it to look at Hangman. "What about you? Any girlfriends?"

"Nah. You know me. I don't have a habit of settling down. I did have a couple of potentials, but those crashed and burned."

"How come?"

"One loved another man, and the other girl hated me." Hangman purposefully left out the girls' names, considering they were, respectively, Juliette and Ghost.

"Their loss," she said. Jake tried not to think about the irony of the statement coming from her. "What about Coyote? Has he dated anyone?"

Jake frowned. "I thought you two stayed in contact?"

"Not religiously. We'd wish each other happy birthday, happy holidays, and whatnot, but that was it."

"He's dated, but no one serious. Longest one lasted maybe three months."

Ghost nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing else, munching on her croissant. Hangman tried to formulate a new topic of conversation but failed miserably. For him, an awkward silence fell over them, but thankfully, it lasted only a short time because he pulled into the parking lot not long after. The pair hopped out and grabbed their belongings.

"Where is everyone?" Ghost asked, scanning the near-empty beach.

Hangman tossed a football in his hands. "I think we're a little early. Don't worry; they'll be here soon. Want to toss this around for a bit? Warm up?"

"Yeah, that sounds-" Ghost jumped at her cell blaring Lily Allen's 'Fuck You.' She scrambled to turn it down, but Hangman caught a glimpse of the name on the phone and felt his blood boil. Not even bothering to hide his annoyance, he growled, "Kyle's still calling you?"

"Yeah," Ghost muttered, rolling her eyes and hitting decline. "Thought I had that turned down."

"If he calls again, please let me take care of it. All I need is thirty seconds. If that."

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. "And what exactly are you going to say to him?"

"Let me answer that ringing phone and find out," Hangman insisted, nodding at the phone in her hand, which had started ringing again. Ghost hesitated, then handed the phone to him. Grinning, he happily took it and answered. "Hello?"

"You're not Annalise. Who the hell is this?" Kyle's irritated voice caused an unhealthy rage to surge into Hangman's blood. He sounded more irritated that Ghost hadn't answered rather than being concerned that some "random" guy had picked up her phone instead.

"You're right; this isn't, Annalise. She didn't pick up for a reason, and the hundreds of unanswered calls should give your tiny brain an insight as to why."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I will be your worst God damn nightmare if you continue harassing her." Hangman glanced at a guy shouting that the Hard Deck wasn't open yet. "Listen carefully because I'm only going to warn you once: they call me Hangman for a reason. If I see you call her one more time, or if Ghost tells me you've reached out to her again, I will rain down living hell on you."

Kyle scoffed. "Yeah? You and whose army?"

"How about the US Navy? Now, I may not have the power to set nine four-star admirals on your ass myself, but-" Hangman smirked at the sight of the blonde hopping out of the familiar blue Bronco that parked next to his truck- "I know the person who can, and they don't take kindly to people messing with their family."

"... Seresin, is that you?" The amused drawl in Kyle's voice caused Hangman's lip to lift in a snarl. "I'll be damned. I thought Annalise cut you out of her life after you killed her wingman."

"She did, and you know what? It speaks volumes that she'd rather hang out with me, the guy who killed her best friend, than answer one of your phone calls."

Ghost stiffened. "Jake-"

He ignored her and continued, "I will say this only once more: leave Annalise alone. Do not call her, do not text her, do not reach out to her. She does not want anything to do with you. Move on or find out what happens when you don't have my brother and father to back you up in a fight."

Hangman hung up before Kyle could utter a syllable in response. He turned to Ghost and said, "He shouldn't bother you again. If he does, let me know. I'll talk Princess into setting some admirals on him."

"I'm not worried about that. About Ghoul-"

"I said what I needed to get the point across to him." Hangman then pointed out that Rooster and Juliette had arrived, declared they should head over to greet them, and then clapped Ghost's shoulder as he left the conversation. He didn't want to talk about what he'd said with Ghost, not now nor ever. He already knew she blamed him for Ghoul's demise and required no reminder, let alone a conversation about it. Hangman didn't need to hear the blame straight from her lips.

Upon approach, Juliette chirped, "Hey! You're here early."

"Yeah, I thought the line would be longer at Starbucks, so Ghost and I got here pretty quickly." Noticing Rooster's brow shoot up, Hangman said, "Put that back down."

Rooster failed to oblige. "So, you two are hanging out?"

"She offered me an olive branch, and I took it." Hangman knelt to pet Raptor and Lightning. "Are the others on their way? I haven't checked my phone recently."

"Weren't you just talking on the phone?"

"He was on mine to my stalker of an ex-fling," Ghost replied, walking up to the group and kneeling next to Hangman to pet the German Shepherds, who had both rolled over onto their backs for belly rubs.

"Kyle?" Juliette asked.

"Kyle," confirmed Hangman and Ghost simultaneously.

"Have I missed something?" Rooster queried.

Juliette patted his shoulder. "I'll catch you up later, honey. What-"

A buzzing phone caught everyone's attention. Judging by how Ghost flinched, Hangman guessed correctly that it was hers. He growled, "If that's Kyle, I swear to God-"

"Hey, Wolfie," Ghost said, placing a calming hand on Hangman's shoulder. His heart lurched at the voluntary, gentle contact.

"Wolfie?!" Jules exclaimed, perking up.

The muffled voice on the other end said, "Is that Juliette Kazansky?"

"Yep, that's her! We're waiting for the rest of the Daggers to get here for dogfight football."

"Dogfight football?"

"I'll explain it when we see each other. What's up?"

"I was standing next to this blue Bronco, looking out over the ocean, and I noticed the most beautiful girls petting some extremely happy German Shepherds." At his words, Ghost stood instantly, scanning the parking lot eagerly. She seemed to zero in on an unfamiliar figure beside Rooster's vehicle. Hangman stood with her just in time to hear Wolfie ask, "Should I go talk to them?"

Ghost beamed broadly. "There will be hell to pay if you don't."

Hangman watched a man jog over, and as he closed the gap between them, he recognized the 'unfamiliar' figure, and his heart inexplicably sank. A ripped man had replaced the former chubby cadet, albeit with some of his baby face left. He was a spitting, younger image of Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe.

"Wolfie!" Ghost gleefully exclaimed as he swept her up into an air hug. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"I swear this is just a coincidence. We're meeting here for our day of shenanigans. Considering we're inevitably going to end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol, we're all taking Ubers here." Wolfie turned to Juliette and glanced down at her bulging belly before leaning forward and gently hugging her. "I'd greet you more exuberantly, but I don't want to hurt you or the babies! It's good to see you, Kazansky!"

"You too, Wolfe." Pulling away, she said, "You remember Bradley, right?"

Wolfie snorted. "How could I forget Bradshaw? How you doing, man? Long time no see. What's it been? Ten years?"

"More, I think. And I'm doing good. Yourself?"

"Never better. Good to see you two back together." Then, turning to Hangman, he said, "You look familiar. Where do we know each other from?"

"This is Jake Seresin," Ghost introduced quickly. "Jake, this is Leo. You two met at my graduation party."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Wolfie's eyes. He extended his hand and replied, "Oh, yeah! Callsign Texas, right?"

"It's Hangman now," Jake corrected with a charming smile as he shook the man's hand.

"Hangman?" Wolfie repeated. "Why Hangman?"

"Fly with me and find out."

Wolfie chuckled. "Not sure if I want to find out with that callsign. Well, listen, I won't keep you guys from whatever you're doing, but we need to catch up before I leave."

"I'm not sure what you and your friends have planned, but you're welcome to join us for football. The more people, the better. I'm sure Mav would love to see you, too!" Juliette said sincerely, leaning into Rooster. The color in her face had drained a little, making him wonder if she was getting nauseous or dizzy. Both were concerning to Hangman. Rooster subtly slipped an arm around her waist, his eyes flicking to her to gauge the situation. Whether he observed anything or not, his gaze reverted back to Leo.

"Let me check with the boys. There are six of us, myself included," Wolfie explained, taking out his phone and shooting a text off to a group chat labeled 'Bachelor Blowout.' "There's my pilot, Jackal. You don't know him, but we do have four other eighty-six legacy babies: Sunrise and Diva-"

"Who are they related to from the eighty-six flyboys?" Ghost queried.

"Sundown and Hollywood, respectively. And then, of course, y'all know Jack and Joey Kazansky."

Juliette stiffened. "Oh God. My brothers are with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ooooh, I'm going to get an earful from them about a few things, mainly how I kept some of my pregnancy complications from them."

Wolfie blinked. "Uh, excuse me, what pregnancy complications?"

"Just a few fainting spells and some high blood pressure, all of which I have under control now. I didn't want them to panic if they learned I had more than one blackout, but they did, and now they're pissed. Shit..." Juliette's eyes locked onto two buff, blond men approaching from the distance. "I'm going to take care of this early on. I'll be back."

Juliette hurried off. Rooster excused himself to join her, stating he should help, leaving Hangman alone with Ghost and Wolfie. He felt like the odd man out between them. Hell, between the current group at the beach, he was the only one that didn't have a relation to the infamous "Flyboys of '86." Even Ghost did, being the daughter of Charlotte Blackwood. Where was Coyote when he needed him?

"I'm going to call Jackal and see what he wants to do. I'll be right back!" Wolfie clapped Ghost gently on the shoulder and walked off, talking to his pilot. For better or worse, this left Hangman alone with Ghost.

"Well-" she began- "this morning has certainly turned interesting."

"I know. Feeling kind of like the odd man out with all you legacies," Hangman teased in an attempt to hide his insecurity about it. He moved to stand next to Ghost, watching Juliette and Rooster with the Kazansky boys and Wolfie chatting on the phone.

Ghost caught onto his hidden concern immediately, though. "Don't worry. I feel out of place with them, too. Rooster, Wolfie, and the Kazanskys all grew up together, even if they didn't live next door to each other. Mom never really stayed in touch with anyone except Wolfman, so I never met anyone but Wolfie. I met Sunrise and Diva a handful of times and heard about them through Wolfie, but never met Bradshaw and Jules until I joined the Navy. Funny, considering how close our parents all were at one point."

He turned his head to look down at her. "Guess it's you and me against the legacies today."

Ghost met his gaze, the corner of her lip tugging upward. "Forever?"

Hangman's heart soared. "And always."

****

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