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sc0tters · 9 months

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Tied Up | Sidney Crosby

summary: when it’s the team end of season gala and you begin to run your mouth, Sidney is there to put you in your place.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), swearing, drinking, light mentions of bondage.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: just like normal the Sidney pieces are the ones where I can get carried away… no but frl I’ve been writing this one for the last few days and it makes me happy to see it out.

You seemed to want to cause trouble tonight.

It was the end of season team charity gala and you were in some pretty black dress that served as a perfect contract from the white stilettos that you wore on your feet.

If it was a post break up outfit it would have been fitting, your dress hugged your curves as it made your breasts look heavenly.

But it wasn’t because of a break up, no this was arguably worse. You and Sidney had been sleeping together for the last three months yet that abruptly ended after rumours came to twitter of him spending time with some model.

Now you usually weren’t one for jealousy, it was an emotion you tried to avoid. But here you were sending Sidney a message that was simple telling him that you were done.

Yet that was so much easier said than actually put to practice. The captain looked gorgeous tonight as he walked around in a suit that was tight enough to leave little to imagination.

Sidney hadn’t let his eyes leave you since he arrived. It was hard to ignore how gorgeous you looked as you were in a conversation with some of the players, laughing as you let your hand brush over Ryan’s arm.

The Canadian always thought you had an eye for that boy, it was how you let your camera linger on him even as you started sleeping with Sidney. As it felt like he was proving his point the captain watched as you made your way to the bar to get another drink “just go talk to her.” Jeff groaned as he had been swearing for the last few weeks that all would make sense if you and Sidney got together.

If only he knew right?

The captains cheeks turned a tinge of red locking eyes with you as you went back to your conversation with Evgeni “sort that shit out for the sakes of the team.” The fellow Canadian added before he placed his hand on Sidney’s back pushing him in your direction.

Sidney wondered what you and Evgeni were talking about as your eyes sparkled looking at the captain “speak of the devil.” You smirked flashing the older boy your signature grin.

It was a look that Sidney would have thought that he would have gotten used to by now, but even after knowing you for two years it still made him weak in the knees.

Evgeni seemed totally unaware of what went on between you two as he smiled “surprised you didn’t bring that girl cap.” His voice was teasing as he watched the older boy nod bringing his drink to his lips “not really her scene.” Sidney’s comment was only met with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

It irritated him how you could get under his skin so much easier when he was sexually frustrated “you got something to say?” The Canadian sent you a glare not realising that it only made you more amused.

You placed your now empty champagne flute on the table next to you “just think you’d need a bit of help to keep a girl satisfied.” Your comment made Evgeni snort before he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

This little spat had been going on between you and Sidney for weeks now so he wasn’t surprised when he carried on into tonight “you’re old Sid, most men your age start needing help from some little blue pills.” You shrugged twisting the metaphorical knife in deeper before the older man wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you to the exit.

Anyone who had seen it thought Sidney just didn’t want to argue with you in front of everyone else but of course he had other plans “don’t remember you telling me I needed any type of pill to satisfy you.” Sidney’s voice was harsh as he pushed you into the elevator.

Your lips turned upright “didn’t think I’d have to explain faking to you.” Sidney always made sure you finished in bed but you were continuing on in your act to piss him off.

His eyes stared at yours as your back hit the wall of the elevator “you think you were faking it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he hit the number for his floor.

When you remained silent his fingers dug into your waist “all the dang time,” you spat only getting cut off as his lips were forced onto yours.

The kiss reminded you of why you enjoyed being with him but as you remained strong not letting his tongue into your mouth it got him frustrated “it’s cute, you thinking you’re all strong today.” Sidney mumbled placing a slap to your ass cheek and as you opened your mouth to argue it gave him the chance to slide his tongue in between your lips.

You two went like this for another minute or two until the elevator doors opened on the captains floor “c’mon.” Sidney locked his hand with yours as he pulled you out of the elevator making sure you followed him to his hotel room.

As he fished for his keycard you decided that you wanted to push his buttons so as innocently as you could you let your hand reach over to the front of his pants where you began to palm his cock through the suit fabric “you are playing with fire baby.” The captain warned sending you a glare.

You leaned onto your tippy toes as you didn’t let your hand drop from his pants “ever thought that it was what I wanted to do?” You asked pressing a kiss just below where his earlobe was.

Luckily for Sidney he was able to open the door before you could do anything else to piss him off “been wanting to get you out of this since I saw you.” Sidney confessed letting his fingers run over the straps of your dress.

His hands cupped your breasts in their journey to your ass “Sid,” you whined as his lips nipped dangerously close to your sweet spot on your neck.

Sidney smirked as he turned to face you “only good girls get rewarded.” He shook his head “others have to work for it,” his voice was serious as an idea formed in your head.

You dropped to your knees never letting your eyes leave his “sure you don’t need some viagra first?” You kept this smirk as you undid his belt “change of plans princess.” Sidney scoffed pulling you back to your feet.

It confused you as he spun you around so that you were facing away from him “need to fuck you like the naughty girl you are.” He explained pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Your panties grew wet “what are you waiting for then?” You asked letting out a gasp as you were pushed against the comforter on the bed.

Sidney let out a grunt as your dress fell over your ass “not even wearing any panties huh?” He ran his fingers over the curve of your ass before he slapped the arena of skin causing you to moan “didn’t look good with the dress.” You explained hearing the sound of his pants hitting the ground.

Your wetness glistened as he looked at your core “you been thinking about this today?” Sidney was painfully hard as he watched you turn your head to look at him “been thinking about getting a good fuck for weeks.” You confessed running your tongue over your lip “but then you found a new friend-“ the reminder of why you ended was sour on your tongue as you sent him a glare.

It made Sidney laugh “you think she mattered like you did?” The boy reached for your hands as he held them on your back “you are my fucking world.” He added using his belt to tie your hands together.

You grew alarmed as you felt his tie go over your eyes “I’m going to fuck you just the way I want to tonight.” Sidney leaned over to whisper that in your ear.

For the most part you two were fairly vanilla, besides for the fact that you enjoyed the occasional fuck in your office where he’d awkwardly sit under your table eating you out as you’d edit the pictures you worked on.

A whimper fell from your lips “please Sid,” you begged feeling his cock brush over your slit. He smiled hearing how needy you were “don’t think I need some pill for this?” Sidney asked dragging his cock over your clit teasing you “if you don’t hurry up then maybe?” Your giggle was short lived as he drove his cock into your core.

It was hot as you were practically trapped beneath him blind as your sense heightened “god you’re so tight.” Sidney grunted thrusting into you.

Your pussy wrapped around his cock giving him an extra sense of pleasure “don’t stop Sid.” You begged bringing your hips back to meet his.

Sidney snaked his hand down your stomach to rub your clit “don’t plan on it,” the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls making your skin sweaty.

His lips nipped at your neck finally reaching your sweet spot “god,” you cried as you tried to force your hands out of the belt constraint.

It only made the boys smirk increase “it’s just me princess.” He cooed locking his free hand in your hair as your moans were muffled by the comforter when your head drove deeper into it.

You honestly forgot about how irritated you were at him as his cock drove deeper into your pussy “oh shit!” You gasped trying to squeezed your thighs shut “not tonight princess.” Sidney shook his head as he moved his knee between your legs.

The headboard continued to hit the wall with each thrust the boy gave “you still think I should have had those pills tonight?” He asked clearly wanting that question to be rhetorical.

Moans were the only real coherent thing that came from your lips “no Sid,” you shook your head feeling it build up in your stomach “making me feel so full.” You cooed clenching your pussy around his throbbing cock.

Sidney grunted at the feeling “so why’d you say it to him huh?” He questioned you bringing his hand from your hair to your neck as he brought your torso up to his.

When you remained silent his hand squeezed around your neck “asked you a question princess.” He grumbled urging you to answer him “wanted to piss you off,” you whispered only knowing the side he was on by the sound of his breathing.

He smiled letting out a gasp as he was getting close to his high “and now you want to come don’t you?” Sidney pressed a kiss to your temple as your head dropped against his shoulder “please Sid.” You begged letting out a gasp as the tie dropped below your eyes “going to have to do better than that.” The hockey player grunted as your eyes locked with his.

You shook your head “please let me come.” You repeated your beg as your body began to shake. It was like you weren’t allowing yourself to come until he said so.

Sidney pressed a kiss on your shoulder letting his teeth sink into the soft skin “promise to behave?” He asked feeing light headed as his eyes fluttered.

He watched as you nodded “be your good little girl forever.” Sidney smirked hearing you say that “you can let it go baby.” His words caused your orgasm to hit you like a truck.

Eyes screwing shut as white specks lit up the backs of your eyelids “shit shit shit!” You cried out as the boy fucked you through your high.

If Sidney’s had wasn’t still around your throat you would have fallen flat onto the mattress “good girl,” his words rang through your ear as he shot his warm load into your pussy as he came shortly after you.

Once you two came back down to earth and the boy let his cock fall out of you your body shuddered “was I too rough tonight?” Sidney asked moving his hand down to undo the belt around your hands.

He massaged the area of skin as he realised that a bruise was going to form there tomorrow “it was hot,” your confession made him laugh.

The boy lay next to you as you looked up at him with a smile “I meant what I said,” Sidney ran his fingers through your hair “really?” Your furrowed your eyebrows watching as he kissed down your arm.

You were never going to get over how he made you feel so giddy inside “wanna to give you the world.” At this point it began to sound like he was talking to himself as he got up to readjust himself between your thighs.

A giggle left your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows “what are you doing?” You grinned watching him stare up at you from between your legs “showing you just how much I want you.” Sidney’s words were playful as his breath fanned at your core.

It didn’t take him long before he wrapped his lips around your clit “fuck Sid!” You groaned instantly wrapping your fingers in his curly locks of hair.

You were in for a long night of pleasure.

#Sidney Crosby smut #sidney crosby x reader #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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ramblingoak · 5 months

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The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 11: Confessions

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster, @ghuleh-recs for the collage and @gothdaddyissues for the dividers! For some more amazing fanart check out: @missygoesmeow (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335 here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing ( 1 / 2 ), @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet ( 1 / 2 ), @delulluart here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter. Also thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ You finally arrive at The Ministry but Saltarian's men are closing in and threatening the lives of everyone that lives there...

Warnings: violence, angst, slight smut, NSFW 18+ only MDNI, 11k words

“So that’s his big plan? Kill the girl and blame the rest of us?”

Secondo didn’t bother answering his brother, he kept his eyes aimed out the window towards the street below. The sun was just starting to peek over the mountains in the distance and soon the city would wake up. Businesses would open, children would be dragged to the schoolhouse by their parents, drunkards would be groaning into the light and thinking about their next drink. He tipped back the rest of his own drink, the whiskey the only thing keeping his nerves calm.

“The end of the Church of Emeritus.”

“Well that’s a little fucking dramatic.” Secondo turned to look at his brother, not at all surprised by his carefree demeanor. Terzo didn’t care much about anything these days unless it was alcohol or someone to warm his bed. Still, the bastard should have some sort of reaction instead of leaning back in his chair like everything was fine. “Maybe that’s the problem, Saltarian and Copia are too similar.”

“He actually said the same about him and I.”

“Really?” The sound of the chair legs hitting the floor echoed around the otherwise quiet room. “You and Salty?”

“He said in a different world we could have been business partners.” He walked back to his desk and set his empty glass down with a thunk. “Not that it matters.”

“SÌ, it’ll be hard doing business with a dead man.”

“I’m not dead yet, fratellino.”

“Oh please, you think we stand a chance against Saltarian? Ten years has given him ample time to build up whatever army of mercenaries he has.” Terzo shook his head while he looked around in his coat pockets for a cigarette. “We haven’t exactly focused on recruitment in that time.”

“No, we have not.”

Secondo shoved a hand through his hair, groaning as he sat down at his desk. Papers littered the top of it, things he hadn’t had time to get to in the last few days. Things that might not even matter soon anyway.

“What are you thinking fratello?”

“I’m thinking we don’t have a choice.” He glanced up to meet Terzo’s eyes, the both of them glowing briefly from the flame of a match as he lit a cigarette. “I can’t risk everything for one girl.”

“Copia won’t be happy. From what Cirrus said he and Salty’s fiancé have gotten…close.”

“Copia will be lucky if I don’t skin him alive when he shows up. He’s dug his own grave here.” Secondo gritted his teeth as he thought over what Cirrus had told them when she’d gotten back. While she hadn’t seen the two of them together, or the girl at all, the other Ghouls mentioned that something had been happening between the two. Secondo hoped that if Copia was fucking the girl it was out of boredom and nothing else. Anything beyond that and Secondo would have an even more difficult time with what he had to do. “If we can get her to Saltarian relatively unharmed he’ll drop the matter.”

“He said that?” Secondo nodded in reply, his eyes down at his desk. While Terzo had no room to judge his decisions he still didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he shared the rest of what Saltarian had told him. “So what, we just dump her outside of town for one of his men to grab her?”

“We’ll need to distract Copia I’m sure, but yes. He wants us to send her out on her own for them to get her.”

“Lucifer’s balls.” Secondo’s expression shifted just enough for Terzo to freeze, the front of his chair once more dropping loudly onto the wood floor. “Good luck with that.”

“What would you have me do, fratellino? Let Saltarian and his men destroy everything again? How many more need to die before you accept the inevitable?”

“And what’s that? The inevitable?”

“That we don’t belong here, as we were. That Copia’s fantasy of rebuilding our church is just that, a fantasy. Nothing more.” Secondo shot Terzo a glare when the younger man started laughing. “What?”

“Out of all of us I expected you to lose your faith last. I never expected you to consider turning in our own blood.”

“Then what would you do? Better yet, what would The Morningstar do, huh?”

“He wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

“That’s funny, I thought he gave up a long time ago.” Secondo immediately regretted his words, watching as the spark that had ignited in Terzo’s eyes at the mere mention of his past went out. “Terzo…”

“You’re right, I did give up. But Copia didn’t, he kept fighting. He kept believing.”

“Believing in what?! A cause that we dedicated our lives to? A Dark Lord that was supposed to reward us for our devotion, to protect us while we celebrated what he stood for?” He took a deep breath, lowering his voice before he continued on. “Where was Lucifer when our lives burned to ash?”

“I don’t know, but maybe Copia does.” Terzo stamped his cigarette out on the arm of the chair, smirking when he caught Secondo narrowing his eyes at the action. “I’d like to hear your plan now.”

“Considering what Cirrus said I don’t think we’ll be able to convince Copia to willingly give her up. Someone will need to convince her to do what’s best.”

“Which is what?”

“Leave Copia behind and move on with her life. She belongs with Saltarian, not a bunch of outlaws.”

“Okie dokie, so you corner her, scare her off and then expect Copia to just let her go without a fight?”

“I’m going to try to talk some sense into him first. You’re welcome to help with that, by the way.”

Terzo let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looked for another cigarette.

“You need Primo’s help, not mine.”

Secondo nodded but didn’t say anything. Primo was the smartest of all of them, getting away from here and living on his own. Although if Saltarian did go through with it and take them out he doubted Primo would be able to escape. He would just be the last Emeritus standing for however brief amount of time he lasted.

“Copia will either see reason or he won’t. I refuse to lose everything again. Especially over some meaningless girl Copia gives two shits about beyond getting the ransom for her.”

“And what if he doesn’t see reason?”

“Then he’ll be the first to die.”

“Wake up Principessa.”

“Hm?” You attempted to bury your face back under the warm blanket but Copia just pulled it away again. “Hey.”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It’s cold.” He grinned, throwing his duster at you as he got up. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Hurry up now, before everyone else gets up.”

With a groan you escaped the warmth of the blanket, quickly shoving your arms into his duster. Aether was sitting by the fire when you finished getting your boots on, smiling at you when you walked by. Copia was finishing saddling Brizio when you made your way to his side. The horse shoved past him to get to you and you laughed when Copia swore as he stumbled back a few steps.

“He likes me better I think.”

“First my Ghouls and now my horse. What’s next?”

You wanted to say ‘hopefully his brothers’ but decided to keep that to yourself. The imminent meeting with them was weighing heavily on you. Sleep had been evasive the night before as you worried over what would happen when you reached The Ministry. You once more found yourself wishing you could travel around like this with Copia and the Ghouls forever. Dancing by the fire every night in Copia’s arms…

It was a memory you wouldn’t soon forget.

“Should I get my horse ready?”

“No, you’ll ride with me.” He winked as he held out his hand for you, grinning when you didn’t even argue. “Up you go.”

Once you were both settled onto Brizio he directed the horse away from camp. The sun was just barely peeking over the mountains in the distance, casting warm light over the land and warming the temperatures up. You still found yourself burrowing into his duster and leaning back against Copia’s chest. He held onto the reins in one hand and kept his other arm tight around your middle, securing you as close as possible. You placed your hand over his where it rested on your side and smiled when he interlaced your fingers.

Another moment to keep with you as long as you could.

Copia didn’t stop until you were far away from camp, hidden in a clump of trees as the sun continued to warm everything around you. After helping you down he let Brizio wander where he wanted to. You both watched as the horse began to much on the sparse grass, unbothered by how heavy the air had become between the two humans with him.

“Copia?” You reached out to touch his elbow, flinching when Copia jumped at the contact. “What’s wrong?”

“Niente. It’s nothing.” He shoved a hand into his pants pocket and you could hear the clinking of stones and metal as he pulled out his grucifix. Copia let it dangle from his fingers for a moment, watching the stones sparkle in the morning light before stepping right up into your space. “I wanted to give you this away from prying eyes.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you watched his face. His mismatched eyes were bright as they met yours before looking back down to the heirloom from his mother.

“I can’t…I can’t take this.” You winced when his face fell a bit so your hands quickly covered his. “This was your mother’s, you should keep it.”

“I want you to have it. As a token, as a symbol of what you mean to me.” He dropped his head and kissed the back of your hand before straightening up again. “I want you to know.”

You held your breath as he stared at you, your hands shaking a little bit over his.

“Know what?”

He took a deep breath and pulled his hands away, shaking out the chain a bit to untangle it. You stayed still when he lifted it up and placed it on you, being careful not to snag your hair in the metal. When it was settled he took a moment to straighten it and then held the silver piece on the end in the palm of his hand. You looked down at the symbol of his church, covering it with your hand to hold it between you after a moment.

“That I care about you, Principessa. Far more than I should.”

You couldn’t help but press closer at his confession, trapping your hands between you. His head lowered again and you let yours drop as well so your foreheads pressed together. Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, letting Copia’s words hang between you. It wasn’t until his free arm snuck around your waist to pull you closer that you felt brave enough to speak.

“I care about you too, Copia.” He made a small noise in the back of his throat as he pulled his hand away from the grucifix to cup your cheek. “I lo–”

His mouth silenced your next words, his lips hot and needy against your own. You wrapped both of your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off so you could bury your fingers in his hair. The kiss deepened quickly and you opened your mouth for him when his tongue demanded entry. He groaned when you nipped at his tongue and began to walk you backwards until your back met the nearest tree.

Copia’s kisses were dizzying like always, enough to make you forget what you had almost confessed to him. It had been bubbling up in you for days now and with everything that still laid ahead you wanted him to know. You needed him to know how you felt. With a gasp you pulled away, tugging on his hair a bit when he tried to lean back in.

“W-wait, I need to tell you something.”

He brought his other hand up so he could hold your face between them, his thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he looked into your eyes.

“Not yet. Soon, yeah?” He kissed your forehead when you tried to speak again. “Will you wait for me?”

You pulled away so you could catch his eyes again and your argument about wanting to tell him now froze in your throat. Did he feel the same way? Is this why he wanted to wait to hear you say it?

Did he want to say it too?

“Okie dokie.” Copia let out a burst of laughter at your use of his phrase. He started pressing sloppy kisses all over your face until you squealed and tried to push him away. “Stop, stop!”

He relented but tugged you close again, his arms wrapped tightly around you as his breath fanned against your ear.

“Soon. I promise.”

You nodded against him, clinging to him tighter than you could remember doing so before. After a moment you pulled away, brushing some of his hair back when you did. Truthfully you thought you’d wait as long as it took to hear him say those words. It wouldn’t change how you felt about him.

“Should we head back?”

“I think they’ll survive without us for a little bit longer.”

He tilted your head up and leaned in to kiss you, deepening it quickly when you wrapped your arms around him once more.

“How long are we going to be waiting around for them?”

“I have no idea.” Aether continued to pack up his cooking supplies, stepping over Dewdrop’s outstretched legs while shooting him an annoyed look. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I’d like to get back to The Ministry at some point in my life.”

“I thought you liked being on the road, you get antsy as hell when we’ve been at the casino for more than a week.”

Dew shrugged and looked around camp rather than answering right away. Aether wasn’t wrong, he did get antsy if they were at The Ministry for too long. He didn’t really know the best way to describe the feeling. It was part boredom and part just not liking being cooped up. There was always plenty to do there (Secondo was always more than happy to boss any of them around) but Dew much preferred being on the road.

It was a helluva lot more exciting than dealing with drunks that was for sure.

“Usually we don’t have as large of a target on our back.” Dew glanced at Aether when his friend froze while shoving things into his saddlebags. “I’ll feel better when this whole thing is over and we have that ransom money.”

“You don’t actually think that’s still going to happen do you?” Dew rolled his eyes when Sunshine came over and sat down beside him. “I mean, there’s no way Copia is just gonna give her up to Saltarian now.”

“Why the fuck not? And don’t say anything about love.”

“It’s because he loves her.” Swiss plopped down on Dew’s other side, grinning when the smaller man groaned. “He’s got it bad.”

“You sure it’s not an act? They didn’t seem happy when we left the farm.”

“Well they sure as fuck are happy now.”

Dew didn’t bother answering Swiss because he knew it was pointless. Whatever had happened before they left the farm had obviously been solved. Just watching them dance last night had been all he needed to see. It had made his chest ache a bit as he watched them while he had played the guitar and his friends sung every stupid love song they could think of. He was happy for Copia, and for his princess, if they actually did love each other. It would fuck up a lot of other shit in their lives but that’s why Dew made sure he always had plenty of ammo nearby.

“Alright so they’re in love, super. That’s fantastic. What the fuck are we gonna do about Saltarian?” Dew looked around at everyone, snorting when none of his friends met his eyes. “Also you all know that Secondo is gonna be pissed, right?”

“He’s already pissed from what Cirrus said.” Sunshine pulled out a knife and started picking at her nails. “We should go back to the farm.”

“And do what?” Dew shoved her shoulder when she looked at him like he was an idiot. “You honestly think any of us would be happy settling down and farming for the rest of our lives? What about rebuilding the church?”

“What about it?” Aether had wandered back over then and was staring down at the three of them. “If we don’t have the ransom money we don’t have a way to rebuild the church, do we?”

“I vote to go back to the farm, I liked it there.” Swiss grunted when Dew kicked at his leg. “Fuck, what?”

“You’re telling me that you’d all be happy to live out your days farming in the middle of fucking nowhere?” Dew looked at each of his fellow Ghouls in turn before throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I’d rather not sleep in a barn for the rest of my life.”

“Some of us could probably sleep in the house, there’s plenty of room.” Sunshine turned and grinned at Dew before continuing, “Except for you though, Ethel hates you.”

“Fuck you. She just needs to get to know me.”

“Nah we’d have to build another house or something for all of us.” Swiss got up and stretched before holding his hand out for Sunshine to help her up. “I think Copia and Princess would want the house to themselves. Fill it up with a bunch of mini-Copias.”

Dew made a face before taking the hand Swiss now had outstretched for him, “Fuck, you don’t think they’d start having kids do you?”

Swiss yanked on Dew’s hand, jerking him roughly to his feet and laughing when he swore. With a quick move he hooked a leg behind one of Dew’s and then shoved him at the shoulders. Dew landed on his ass with a groan before launching himself at Swiss’s legs, bringing the man down roughly onto the ground. Aether quickly moved out of the way and stood next to Sunshine, the both of them watching the two Ghouls wrestle around and curse at each other.

“They don’t need kids, they have us.”

Sunshine flashed a grin at Aether but her smile quickly faded when something behind him caught her attention. Aether turned to look and saw two riders coming over the hill down the road.

“Copia and Princess?” Aether shook his head and continued to watch the riders approach, his body tensing even more when Sunshine spoke again. “Mountain and Rain?”

Four more riders soon appeared behind the first two and Aether could see the metal of their guns glinting in the morning sun. He shouted at Dew and Swiss before turning to meet Sunshine’s determined face.

“Fun’s over.”

It was easy to lose track of time with Copia kissing you.

He had eventually laid his duster out on the ground and pulled you down on top of it with him. His hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes and maneuvering you until you were in his lap. Copia’s fingers were quick on the buttons of your shirt and as soon as he could he had a hand inside of it and under your chemise, his thumb rubbing against your nipple. He swallowed your little gasps and whimpers, his tongue teasing against your own while his fingers teased your breast.

The more time you spent together like this the more bold you started to feel. You were learning how he liked to be touched, how to get groans and whimpers out of him. It made you feel powerful that you could make him feel good just like he made you feel good. Before you could think too much about it you dropped a hand onto his crotch and began to rub his hardening cock through his pants. Copia broke away with a desperate sounding noise, pressing his forehead against yours and panting into your mouth.

“Fuck, Principessa you–”

The both of you suddenly froze when a barrage of distant booms invaded your little space. Brizio made a noise and sped over towards you both, the horse experienced enough to know what those sounds meant. He knew trouble was close and he was ready to get you both out of there. Selfishly you wished that was what would happen, that you and Copia would jump onto Brizio and ride away from whatever trouble was nearby. You met Copia’s gaze when he turned away from the path you had taken into the little clearing of trees.

“Is that…?”

More gunshots echoed from the way you came and Copia grabbed your waist to help you get off of him. You quickly began to do up your shirt as he grabbed his coat and threw it on. He was on Brizio in a second, his hand reaching down to help you get up behind him.

“Hold on tight.”

You did just that, snaking your arms and clasping your hands together around his waist as Brizio shot off down the path. Your heart was racing as fear started to take a hold of you. What would you be riding back to? How many of Saltarian’s men were out there? Were any of the Ghouls hurt?

Copia covered your hands with one of his own and squeezed them, doing his best to reassure you that everything would be alright. As you got closer to where you had camped the night before the gunshots lessened until finally you had crested the hill and the camp was in sight. You were tentatively looking over Copia’s shoulder, worried at what you might see. Copia himself was tense but not as tense as you had expected so that alone helped ease your worry a bit.

If he wasn’t going in guns blazing you would trust that everything was alright.

As you got closer there were a few bodies on the ground and you had to turn your head away. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing just yet but at least they weren’t wearing any clothes you recognized. Copia pulled back on Brizio’s reins as you reached the others. Mountain strode over to help you down and despite a streak of blood down the side of his face he seemed unharmed.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

“Shut up Dewdrop.” You rushed over to the smoldering campfire to see Aether leaning over Dew, his hands red with blood. “Stay still, damn it.”

“Is he ok?”

You dropped to your knees on the other side of Dew, wincing when you saw the blood spreading on his right thigh.

“He’s fine, just got grazed.”

“Fine?! Speak for yourself, this fucking hurts.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t been shot before.” Aether grabbed the torn part of Dewdrop’s pants and tugged at the fabric, ripping it open so he could see the wound better. He shoved at one of Dew’s hands when the Ghoul tried to push Aether away. “Knock it off.”

You looked up when a shadow fell over the three of you, Sunshine offering you a reassuring smile before she knelt down next to you.

“How’s the patient?”

“I’m bleeding out.” Dew hissed when Aether prodded at the wound. “Unholy fuck, what are you doing to me?!”

“Will you two hold him down please?”

Sunshine moved around so she was at Dew’s back and slid her arms around his chest to keep his arms immobile. When Aether nodded towards Dew’s other leg you placed your hands down on it to try and keep it still. He was still twitching and hissing as Aether checked the wound over but he quieted down when Copia came over to hold his ankles.

“Anyone else get hurt?”

“Mountain and Rain came back with some scrapes but otherwise Dew got the worst of it.” Copia nodded and muttered something in Italian under his breath when Dew tried to wriggle away. “Hold still, I need to stitch you up.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Maybe you should move out of the way faster next time to avoid getting shot.”

Sunshine’s voice had a teasing lilt to it but you could tell by the tightness of her features that she was putting on a bit of an act.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself. I only got this because I pushed you out of the way!”

You bit back a smile as they continued to banter, your eyes watching Aether stitch up the wound on Dew’s leg. Aether caught your eyes and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Stick around Princess and you’ll be helping me patch everyone up in no time.”

“I think I will.” Copia and Aether looked your way so you grinned back at them. “Stick around. And helping.”

Copia reached over and tucked some of your hair back behind your ear, a dopey smile on his face.

“Ugh, fucking kill me.” You snorted when you looked away from Copia, blushing a bit when you noticed the three Ghouls watching you. Dewdrop was making a disgusted face and he dropped his head back against Sunshine’s chest. “Seriously I’d rather bleed out than watch the lovebirds any more.”

“Sorry buddy, you’re not gonna die on us today.” Aether tied off the final stitch and sat back to admire his work. “Let’s get it wrapped up and then get you on your feet.”

Copia took one of your hands and helped pull you to your feet as he rose. He didn’t let go, instead tugging you closer so you were pressed into his side.

“We need to get packed up and get out of here.”

He kissed your forehead before turning to look out towards where Mountain, Rain and Swiss were working on getting the bodies of Saltarian’s men gathered.

“Do you think there are more of them?”

His hand squeezing yours was all the answer you needed. Of course there were more. You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down while your mind raced with the thought of how many others might be sent to get you.

“Hey, look at me.” Copia gripped your chin gently and forced your head up. You were a bit embarrassed at the tears that had been forming in your eyes but he just smiled at you and kissed your nose. “What did I promise you?

“That you’d keep me safe.”

“SÌ. I keep my promises, Principessa.”

With a few more kisses he helped ease your worries and you let yourself lean against him. Letting him take your weight a bit as you soaked in the feeling of being safe in his arms. Whatever the road to the casino brought you knew he would be there and you knew he would do everything he could to keep you safe.

Everything would be ok as long as he was with you.

The arrival at The Ministry was rushed.

You barely had time to take in the town around it before the large building was looming in front of you. Oil lamps were lit up and down the street as well as inside the businesses that lined it as the sun began to set. Copia had directed you to wear the hat Ethel had given you and Sunshine had thrown her coat over you. You weren’t sure what the point was because you doubted anyone in this town wouldn’t recognize Copia and his Ghouls but you let them do whatever they felt was necessary.

Behind the casino were the stables and another building, this one much smaller. You dismounted with everyone else and looked around trying to take everything in. A few men wandered out of the stable and exchanged words with Copia before they started to get the horses inside. Everyone started taking their bags and other belongings off the horses before they began to wander towards the smaller building.

“That’s where we stay.” You jumped a bit at Sunshine’s voice, glancing at her when she stopped right next to you. “The Ghoul dorms. That’s home.”

“It’s…nice?”

She snorted, shaking her head as she threw an arm over your shoulder. Dewdrop and Swiss wandered by on your other side, the larger Ghoul helping his friend limp along.

“It ain’t much but it’s a roof and I don’t have to share a room.” She threw you a wink before pulling you along a little faster. “Unless I want to.”

“Will I be staying here too?”

“Oh shit yeah, we gotta keep you close. Hey boss!” You turned to see Copia jogging your way, his bags slung over his shoulders and his rifle in his hands. “Where should I put her?”

“My room.” It was Copia’s turn to wink at you and your face heated up immediately. “I need to drop my stuff off and then go find Secondo.”

It was busier inside than you had expected. People that you assumed were Ghouls as well greeting everyone as they went inside. Swiss was nearly tackled by a smaller woman and she squealed when he lifted her up to swing her around.

“That’s Aurora.” Sunshine pointed at the woman and then started pointing at various others that were around, rattling off names you had no hope of remembering just yet. “You’ll meet Cumulus and Cirrus later, they’re probably performing right now.”

“Do you perform?”

“Only if Secondo asks nicely.” Your nerves came back at the sound of his name. You were getting more and more scared thinking about meeting him, wondering how he would react to you. “Hey, don’t worry about him. He’s more bark than bite.”

“What about Terzo? Will I meet him too?”

“Not if I can help it.” Copia’s voice was dark at the mention of his brother but you could see Sunshine trying to hide a grin. “Come on, Principessa. Follow me.”

Sunshine gave your shoulder a squeeze before wandering off and dumping her bags on a nearby table. You tried to look around as much as you could while Copia directed you up some stairs and down a hallway. He stopped at a door at the end, shoving a key into the lock before pushing it open and leading you inside.

His room was a lot nicer than you had expected, although it was messy. The unmade bed in the corner was bigger than the one you shared at Ethel’s. Thinking about sharing a bed again had you blushing once more so you quickly looked around at the rest of the space. There were two doors open that led onto a small balcony and when you walked closer you could see another street full of people milling around as the night darkened.

Other than that there was a dresser and a few small tables. All of which were covered with weaponry of some sort. Guns, knives and bullets spread over every surface. As you wandered closer to the large dresser he had you saw a few little trinkets and while you were tempted to poke around you didn’t want to pry into his things too much. This was definitely his space and you were a stranger here.

“Principessa?” You startled at his voice, spinning to find him right behind you with a grin on his face. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice.” He slid an arm around your waist and brought you closer, his eyes focusing on your lips. “Nicer than I expected.”

“Hmm, should I be offended?”

“No, no. It’s just not as bare as I thought it would be.”

“Ah, well perhaps it could use a woman’s touch, eh?” You rolled your eyes when he pressed you back against his dresser. It reminded you of that moment at Ethel’s when you had kissed for the first time. “There’s something else that could use a woman’s touch too.”

“Oh? And what would that b–”

“Fratellino!”

It was Copia’s turn to startle and he quickly shoved you behind him as he turned towards the door. There was a man leaning against the frame, a smirk that was even more infuriating than the ones Copia used to give you on his face. If the smirk didn’t give him away as one of Copia’s brothers the eyes definitely did. Otherwise he couldn’t look more different, his hair was dark, nearly black. His clothes were a lot nicer too. His ensemble was mostly black besides a dark purple waistcoat. Your eyes were also drawn to the shiny star pinned on his chest.

“Terzo. Get the fuck out.”

“Ah, Copia. You don’t mean that.” He wandered into the room, still smirking as his eyes didn’t leave you and Copia. “Won’t you at least introduce me to your bella amica?”

“No. Fuck off.”

“Well I suppose there’s no point in introductions. We all know who she is.” Terzo threw you a wink before wandering over to Copia’s bed and sitting on the edge. You couldn’t help but stare at him, your eyes looking over his bare face wondering if he ever wore makeup like Copia did. “See anything you like, bella?”

“Not really.”

Copia snorted, squeezing your waist briefly before letting you go to walk closer to his brother.

“I can already see you two are a good match.”

“What do you want, Terzo?” Copia had his hands on his hips as he stared down at his brother. “We just got here.”

“SÌ, I know. It wasn’t hard to miss your arrival.” Terzo’s face lost its teasing edge for a moment while he considered his brother. “Secondo wants to see you.”

“He can fuck off too.”

“No fratellino, you need to talk to him. There have been some…developments since we sent Cirrus your way.”

You started nervously fiddling with your shirt as the two spoke, feeling as if you were listening in to a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I think we ran into some of those developments on the way here. A band of Saltarian’s men attacked us.” Copia turned to walk back over to you but Terzo shot his hand out and grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Che cosa?”

“You’re lucky you only ran into one group of them, there are a lot more and they’re all looking for her.”

You could see Copia bite his lip as he thought over Terzo’s words. The worry lines on his face deepened as well and it took a lot of your self control not to wander over and try to smooth them out with your fingers. Copia looked up and caught your gaze. It bothered you that he didn’t even try to give you a reassuring look.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“How about I stay here and get to know your lady, hmm?” Terzo grunted when Copia grabbed his vest and yanked him off the bed. “Okay! Lucifer’s balls, you need to lighten up, fratellino.”

Copia shoved him towards the door, watching as he wandered out with one final wink being sent your way. You watched as Copia stared at the door, the only thing moving was his chest as he breathed.

“Copia?”

“Stay here.” His voice was rough, similar to how he talked to you when you first met. You winced at the memory but he quickly spun towards you and held his hands up. “Per favore.”

“Am I safe here?”

“SÌ! SÌ, you are safe here I promise you.” He quickly moved back in front of you and cradled your head in his hands. “I don’t want you on your own just yet. Until I know what’s going on.”

You nodded, closing your eyes when he pressed a few kisses into your forehead. When he pulled away you looked at him, trying to offer him a reassuring smile but knowing it wasn’t really working. He kissed it away, his lips soft against yours. It was easy to get lost in him, to focus on this moment right now and not what might happen in the future. You were embarrassed at how your fingers clutched at his shirt when he backed away.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“I know, Principessa.” He took your hands and rubbed his thumbs along the back of them before bringing them up so he could kiss along the pads of your fingers. “I’m worried too. Just stay here. Lock the door behind me, yeah?”

“Okie dokie.”

He smiled, moving in for a fierce kiss on your mouth before quickly pulling away and heading out the door. You followed him slowly, watching as he headed down the hall and down the stairs. With a deep breath you finally closed it, turning the lock firmly and then leaning your head against the wood.

At this point you weren’t sure who you should pray to but you decided to say one to whoever might be listening that everything would be ok.

The lure of having a bed to sleep in was too much to resist.

It felt weird to poke around his room when he wasn’t there so at first you just looked out his balcony doors. The city was still alive with people even at how late the hour had become. You found yourself imagining what each person’s life was like as they passed along the street below. It was so different from where you were from, so different from what you were used to. You couldn’t help but imagine yourself living here, thinking about what you might do every day.

Thinking about sharing a life with Copia.

You turned to stare at the door to his room, wondering what was taking him so long. It had been hours at this point and your anxiety was high imagining what Copia and Secondo might be talking about. There was no doubt in your mind that they were talking about you but what did that involve? What had really happened while Saltarian had come here? You shook your head like that action alone would make your worries leave.

There was so much happening, so much to deal with, that it was overwhelming for you. It had to be even worse for Copia. You wished you knew what was going through his head, what he felt like his options were. Saltarian wouldn’t give him the ransom money without also having you in his possession. You clenched your hands into fists at that thought. At how men like your father and Saltarian treated you. Like a thing someone could own, like a trinket to be put on display. You didn’t belong to anyone.

But you did belong with Copia, that you knew. That was something you could feel in your heart. You felt it every time he looked at you. Even when it was that smug smile of his, even when he was teasing you. You felt it when he touched you, when he kissed you. Your only hope was that Copia felt the same.

With a heavy sigh you turned towards his bed, deciding that it would be best to try to get some sleep rather than let your worries take over. You slipped your shoes and pants off before crawling in under the covers. They were a lot softer than you had expected, much more comfortable than the horse blankets you had become used to. Your eyes quickly grew heavy, your mind finally quieting from all your fretting. You fell asleep to the thought of sharing this bed with Copia for many days to come.

The room was bathed in morning light when you woke up again.

There was a slight chill so you found yourself pressing harder against the warm body next to you. Copia had finally come back a few hours after you had climbed into bed. He had stayed quiet, just wrapped his arms around you and held you close. His grip had remained tight throughout the early morning hours, like he was afraid you’d get up and leave if he let go. Your hold on him was equally strong, using him as a shield against your worries.

“You awake, Principessa?”

Instead of answering you turned in his arms and buried your face against him. The dark hair that covered his chest tickled your nose but you stayed still, daring to press a kiss right over the strange tattoo he had. His chest rumbled beneath your lips and in a quick move he rolled so that you were laying under him, his body effectively pinning you onto the bed.

You expected him to tease you but instead of talking his lips immediately were on yours, his tongue pressing against them and demanding entrance. With a soft groan you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his. Copia angled his head and deepened the kiss even more, like he was starving and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

The memory of what he had said after his apology creeped into your mind, of how he had promised to make you his when he had you in a bed again. It made you feel bold, he made you feel bold, so you shoved your fingers into his hair and wrapped a leg around his waist. He ground down against you and a much louder groan left you when you felt how hard he was. It pressed insistently against you, right where you needed him the most. When Copia suddenly pulled away you cried out, trying to use your leg to keep him close.

“Copia, please. You sa–”

“I know, I know.” Copia dropped his head into the crook of your neck and you could hear him mumble something in Italian before he pulled up to look into your eyes. “You are a temptress.”

“Is it working?” You weren’t sure when you had become so bold but it was probably somewhere between the farmhouse and the casino. Copia cursed under his breath when you lifted your head up to kiss him along his jaw. “You have me in a bed, in your bed.”

“Do I? I hadn’t noticed.” With a grunt he pressed against you once more, pushing you down into the bedding. “Was there something you needed, Principessa?”

“You.”

His eyes darkened and with a quick move he had you flipped so you were sprawled on top of him. One of his hands was in your hair, his mouth already on yours again. His other hand slid down your back until it stopped on your ass, gripping the flesh tightly and holding you still. You moaned when he spread his legs open and you felt his hardness between your legs again. It was straining against his pants and you wiggled against it, gasping into his mouth when you felt it twitch. He tugged on your hair, pulling you away from his mouth and then turning you so you were both on your sides facing each other.

“I knew I should have slept on the floor.” He chuckled when you tried to pinch his side, easily grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss your palm. “Mi dispiace, Principessa. You’ll have to wait a bit longer for me.”

“What?” You pulled away when he tried to kiss you. “Why?”

“I need to leave. And soon.”

Your heart sank and you put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you both.

“Leave? Leave where?”

“Those men we ran into yesterday, that wasn’t the only group of them lurking around.” When you didn’t budge he sighed and rolled over onto his back. “Secondo said there were more of them north of town.”

“Then why are you leaving? Shouldn’t you stay here?”

“You know why.” Copia’s eyes were soft when he turned to look at you. He reached over slowly to cup your cheek. “I have to keep you safe.”

“I feel safest when I’m with you, Copia.”

“You will be safe here, I promise.” He started stroking his thumb back and forth along your cheek. “Sunshine and Aether will be here.”

Your eyes widened briefly, surprised he wouldn’t want to take them along but also a little grateful that you’d have people you knew nearby. You bit your lip and scooted closer to him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Hopefully not long, two days at the most I think.” His hand on your cheek slid back into your hair and he rubbed his fingers along your scalp. “Stick with Sunshine, she’ll keep you safe.”

“And what about you? Who will keep you safe?”

Copia laughed, the sound doing wonders to calm your nerves. He moved his hand and his fingers started tracing the chain of his grucifix that you still wore.

“Brizio.” You couldn’t help but laugh yourself, shaking your head against his shoulder. After a moment you moved so you could kiss his skin. Pressing your lips onto every freckle you could. “You’re making it very hard for me to leave, Principessa.”

“Good.”

Copia turned again and easily wrapped you up in his arms, holding you close against his chest once more. Tears started to form in your eyes but you squeezed them shut as hard as you could, not wanting him to see how upset you were. You trusted him to stay safe, you trusted whoever he took with him to keep him safe too.

“Stay in here or stay with Sunshine. Avoid Secondo, eh?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Trust me, you’ll know him when you see him.”

You huffed against his skin, your nerves spiking while you wondered why you needed to stay away from him at all.

“What about Terzo?”

“Don’t you worry about him.” Copia touched your chin and tilted your head up so he could give you a brief kiss before leaning back and grinning. “I’m taking that stronzo with me.”

Sunshine refused to let you mope in Copia’s room.

A few hours after he left she showed up at your door, a wide grin on her face. The Ghoulette didn’t give you any other option besides going with her so you reluctantly left the safety of Copia’s room and tagged along. The first place you stopped at was a room further down the hall and you could already hear Dewdrop’s grumbling before Sunshine even opened the door. Aether was in there as well, quietly checking on the stitches he had put in the day before.

After a few minutes of Sunshine needling Dew Aether practically shoved the both of you out. Sunshine took you around the halls above the common area, pointing out who stayed where. You had no hope of remembering where everyone’s rooms were, except Copia’s at least. But it was fun to see where everyone lived regardless.

You had hoped to meet Aurora and Cirrus but they had gone with Copia and the others. Sunshine mentioned that Secondo hadn’t been very happy when he found out but honestly it didn’t seem like Secondo was happy about a lot of things. You had so many questions about him, and Terzo, on the tip of your tongue but you decided to keep them to yourself for now. Copia would probably be the better person to ask anyway.

The day progressed slowly, which did little to ease your worries. Sunshine did her best to keep you occupied and you even went back to see Aether for a bit. He helped you redo some of Dew’s stitches when the Ghoul had decided to ignore the fact that he was supposed to stay still. Aether seemed pleased with your work and even Dew was relatively quiet while you finished tying them off. It made you feel good being able to contribute in some way.

It made you feel like you had a place here.

As the day wore on you could tell Sunshine was getting a little bored of babysitting. She also seemed on edge so you imagined that she was also worried, just like you were. It couldn’t be easy to be left behind when your friends were riding into danger. Although friends almost didn’t seem like the best word anymore. It was clear that Copia and his Ghouls had formed a family. You only hoped that someday they would consider you a part of it as well.

When night fell you decided it would be best to head back to Copia’s room. The common area where the Ghouls stayed was getting a little rowdy and Sunshine was fielding a lot of questions regarding your presence. You had no reason to think any of them had ill intentions but it still made you nervous not having Copia at your side to help keep some of them at bay. Sunshine pulled you into a hug when you started to head for the stairs and you found yourself leaning into your embrace.

Perhaps you were already considered family.

The hall towards Copia’s room was quiet but you still found yourself taking careful steps along the wood. When you got inside you turned and gently closed the door, leaning your forehead against it for a moment and taking a few deep breaths. You weren’t looking forward to a night alone but hopefully Copia would be back in the morning.

“So you’re Copia’s Principessa.”

At the sound of the deep voice behind you your blood seemed to freeze. Slowly you turned, knowing that behind you was the one person you were most nervous to meet. He stood in the middle of the room, a much taller figure than you had expected. Again you were struck by the differences between him and his brothers but there was no mistaking what the different colored eyes symbolized.

There was no doubt that this was Secondo Emeritus.

“I-yes. Yes.” You winced when your voice cracked, knowing that he was probably the type of guy that quickly cataloged every little reaction people had around him. “Is Copia ok?”

“I would imagine so considering there’s nothing out there for him to find.”

“What?” You pressed your back against the door. It felt like you needed as much distance as possible from this man but you had no idea why. “I thought there were more of Saltarian’s men?”

“I have no doubt that there are, but they aren’t in the direction I sent him.” His voice was calm, almost bored as he spoke. “But it was an easy way to separate him from you. I knew he wouldn’t sit idly by if he was worried for your safety.”

“Why did you need to separate us?”

“Because I need to talk with you one on one without mio fratellino interfering.” Secondo took a few steps towards you making you wish you had more room to back up. “Because I need you gone before he gets back.”

“Gone?”

He snorted, shaking his head in annoyance at your question. You were sure that to him you were just some stupid city girl, much like how Copia originally thought of you.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?”

A flash of anger flared inside of you and you took a step towards him, feeling a moment of bravery.

“What I’ve done? Copia is the one that kidnapped me!”

“I’m aware of that but it seems circumstances have changed, don’t you agree?” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared you down. “From what I’ve been told you two have gotten…close.”

“That’s none of your business.”

With a snarl Secondo moved towards you and you once more felt the door against your back.

“No, Principessa, it is my business. Copia’s idiotic plan has put my livelihood at risk. It has put my family at risk. And for what? An easy fuck with some stupid girl.”

“It’s not just…we haven’t…” You stopped, unable and unwilling to finish what you were going to say. “He cares about me.”

“Does he? Or does he just care about what you can get him?” Secondo laughed when you didn’t answer right away. “I’ve known him a lot longer than you have. I know what motivates him, I know why he does what he does.”

Your mind was racing, trying to cling to every moment you and Copia had shared. What Secondo was implying wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. You refused to give in to those thoughts.

“I don’t think you know him at all.”

“Think whatever you like, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you think is going on between you two is over. You need to leave.”

“No! I’m not leaving him.”

“Let me ask you this, do you care about him?”

“I…” You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders, refusing to look scared in front of him. “I love him.”

“Then you have to leave.” Secondo held up a hand when you opened your mouth, stopping you from arguing with him. “Saltarian was here, as I’m sure you heard. He’s decided to use your kidnapping as a way to destroy us once and for all.”

“How?”

“You’re more than a business pawn to him now. You’re a way for him to be rid of the Church of Emeritus forever. He’s going to keep sending men after Copia, after you, and he doesn’t care if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll blame it on Copia, on our church that barely exists anymore. He’ll use it as an excuse to burn everything we’ve rebuilt.” Secondo seemed to deflate a bit, his shoulders sagging under some invisible weight. “He’ll kill us all.”

“And if I go?”

“He agreed that if I could get you to him he would leave us be.” He let out a humorless laugh and looked around Copia’s room. “Unless provoked.”

“Copia will come after me.”

“Then you’ll have to convince him not to.” He pointed over to a small table against the wall and you saw a pen sticking out of an ink well. It was obvious he’d brought it with him. “Write him a letter, tell him you’d rather be with Saltarian.”

“He won’t believe me!”

“I’m not going to let you destroy what has taken me a decade to build. I don’t care what you write, whatever it takes to make him think you don’t want him anymore.”

You sagged against the door, gripping the handle to keep yourself from falling onto the floor. Tears were streaming down your face but you didn’t bother wiping them off. Your hand came up to your chest and you clutched at the grucifix from where it was hiding under your shirt.

“Please, I don’t want to go.”

“What did you actually think would happen here? Did you think you’d find a job dealing cards or serving drinks?” Secondo took a few steps closer, towering over you. “Can you sing? Can you dance?”

“No, bu–”

“You don’t belong here, girl. With Copia or with us. Stop fooling yourself if you think he feels the same way about you.” He held a hand out then and you stared at the worn black leather glove that covered it. “If you love him you need to leave.”

“When?”

“Now. They will be back in the morning I’m sure.”

You nodded, pressing your hands against the floor to push yourself back up, refusing to accept his help.

“Where should I go?”

“South, the road you came in on.” You felt his eyes on you as you wandered over to the table, your hands trembling as you picked up the pen and held it above the paper he had left there. “There will be men waiting to take you to Saltarian.”

“And Copia?”

Secondo already had his hand on the door handle but he turned towards you when you spoke.

“What about him?”

“Will he…will he be ok?”

Would he be safe? Would Saltarian leave him alone, would he leave all of you alone?

Would he miss you?

Secondo spent a few moments watching you, his face set in stone.

“He’ll get over it.”

The ‘over you’ was obvious so you just nodded, turning away from him to stare down at the blank sheet of paper. More tears were falling and you didn’t want Secondo to see them. You gripped the grucifix again, tracing the stones with your thumb through the fabric of your shirt. When the door closed behind you it was as if all the strength left your body and you fell to your knees to weep for the life you almost had.

Copia wanted to go home.

Although he wasn’t sure if he had ever felt like The Ministry was home. It was just someplace to keep what few things he owned. To gather with the Ghouls and to plan whatever scheme against Saltarian he came up with next. The main reason he wanted to get off the fucking road and go back there was you. He was pissed that he had left you but Secondo hadn’t given him much of a choice.

The conversation with his brothers hadn’t gone well. Like Copia expected, Secondo was pissed over the kidnapping. But he had never felt the fire Copia did to get revenge on Saltarian. He had never understood why Copia had dedicated the last ten years to taking him down. It was so close to being over with though, Copia was so close to feeling peace for the first time in so long. His soul ached for it.

Just like it ached for you.

He glanced around the campfire, irritated that Terzo had insisted on stopping for the night. There hadn’t been a damn sign of any of Saltarian’s men. Rain had rode ahead countless times but each time he had come back with nothing. Not a single sign that any men had been around those parts recently. That fact was eating at Copia, a feeling he couldn’t shake and it kept getting worse as the hours wore on.

“Sunshine’ll take care of her boss. She’ll be fine.”

Copia nodded towards Swiss, appreciating the Ghoul trying to reassure him. It wasn’t too long ago that a moment like this would have made him feel weak. That his feelings towards you would have made him feel weak. All of that had been changing though, especially since leaving Ethel’s. You had carved a place for yourself inside of his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself picture you in his bed in nothing but a baggy shirt and his grucifix laying over your heart.

Fuck this.

He stood up and grabbed his blanket off the ground, throwing it over his shoulder as he picked up what little else he had around him.

“Boss?”

“I’m leaving.”

Copia stepped over Swiss’s legs to make his way over to Brizio but he stopped at the sound of Terzo’s voice.

“You seem impatient fratellino, is there somewhere else you’d rather be right now?” Terzo grinned when Copia shot him a look. “Or maybe it’s someone you’d rather be with? I can’t say I blame you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Salty’s fiancé. I can see why you stayed away for so long.”

“We stayed away because you told us to.”

“Oh that was Secondo, I didn’t really give a fuck.” Terzo laughed at Copia’s irritated face. “Che cosa? A little excitement never hurt anyone.”

“The only excitement you seem to enjoy anymore takes place in a bed.”

“Or a couch, a chair, a table…I’m not picky.” Copia just rolled his eyes and started moving towards his horse again, only stopping when Terzo stood up and went after him. “This girl, your ‘Principessa’, she’s very beautiful.”

“Is she?”

Copia stayed absolutely still as he waited for Terzo to continue. The chatter from the Ghouls around them had stopped, everyone seeming to be waiting to see where Terzo was going with this.

“Don’t play coy, she’s exactly the type of girl you always go for.”

“I’m not ‘going’ for her. She’s here for a specific purpose, that’s all.”

“Really? I could have sworn there was something else going on between you both.” Copia stayed quiet, unwilling to play whatever game Terzo wanted to start. His brother grinned when Copia didn’t immediately take the bait. “In that case you won’t mind if she and I become better acquainted, will you?”

Copia heard one of the Ghouls mutter ‘oh fuck’ but it was quiet enough he couldn’t pinpoint who. He turned so he was facing Terzo head on, he had an infuriating smile on his face and it just seemed to grow as he watched Copia’s reaction.

“Mi scusi?”

“I just figured there will be a few days before we can set up a rendezvous with Saltarian’s men so what’s the harm if she and I have some fun?” Terzo laughed when Copia grabbed the front of his shirt. “What’s the problem?”

“You don’t get to touch her.”

“And what if I do? What if I touch her just how she wants and she makes some pretty noises for me?” Terzo ignored every warning sign he had ever learned about his younger brother and kept going. “What if she chooses m—cazzo!”

Copia’s fist was swift and powerful when it landed on Terzo’s chin. The crack echoed around the small camp followed by the sounds of more blows landing. He was like a man possessed as he shoved Terzo onto his back and slammed his fist into his face again and again. Swiss and Mountain rushed over, grabbing at Copia’s arms but he shoved them away, snarling something dark when Terzo laughed. Swiss finally shoved his entire body into Copia’s side and managed to knock him over.

“Belial, Copia stop!”

“Get off me!” Copia was wild as he tried to get his friend off of him. “I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Awfully testy over a bargaining chip, fratellino!”

Terzo’s taunting words just had Copia fighting harder and Cirrus came over to try to help keep him on the ground.

“Satan’s dick Terzo, just shut the fuck up.”

The man just flashed Cirrus a bloodstained grin before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“I just wanted to see if I was right or not.”

Copia stopped fighting for a moment, lifting his head off the ground to look at his brother.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I told Secondo you had fallen for this girl. I could tell.”

“Why does it matter?”

Swiss and Cirrus let Copia sit up, staying close in case he went after his brother again.

“Well it changes things, doesn’t it? If you like her.”

Copia was silent because Terzo was right, it did change things. He hadn’t wanted to think about how his plan would have to change after his feelings for you did. Mostly he just wanted to get to the casino, to get you someplace safe, before he worried about anything else.

Before he told you how he really felt.

There was something about the look on Terzo’s face that worried him. A look that always seemed to precede bad news ever since they were kids.

“What did you do?”

“Well again, this was mostly Sec–”

“Terzo what the fuck did you do?!”

His hand was shaking as he held your note.

The grucifix was in his other hand, the stones glittering in the morning light. He had been reading your words over and over, trying to absorb them. Trying to get them to make some sort of sense but his brain refused to work. It was like his entire body had shut down. Thanks to Terzo he knew that you had written it under Secondo’s direction but it still hurt. It hurt to see you write that you didn’t want to be with him, that you felt your life would be better with Saltarian.

Even if you didn’t mean it, he was determined now to prove you wrong.

“Let her go, Copia.”

He crumpled the note in his hand as he turned to glare at Secondo. Copia could feel the bite from the chain of his grucifix even through his glove.

“Fuck you.”

Secondo narrowed his eyes while he took a few steps towards him. When he saw Copia’s hand drift towards his gun belt he stopped and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Really? Over some stupid girl?” He shook his head as he looked his brother over, his eyes finally falling on the grucifix. “Don’t tell me you gave that to her.”

“What I do is none of your fucking concern, fratello.” Copia started towards the door, shoving the grucifix in his pocket and dropping the note. Secondo grabbed his arm as he attempted to pass him and Copia shoved him back with a snarl. “Touch me again and you’ll regret it.”

“You and Terzo are both fools. Giving something like that to any pretty face willing to share your bed.”

Behind Secondo Copia could see Sunshine and Swiss waiting in the hallway, the both of them ready to follow Copia wherever he went.

“Where did she go?”

“Where she belongs!”

Copia shook his head and moved past his brother again, nodding at Sunshine and Swiss as he went by. He could hear their footsteps close behind him and when he got to the bottom of the steps he was happy to see the rest of his Ghouls ready to go as well.

“Rain and Mountain already headed out to find her trail.” Sunshine’s voice was tight with worry behind him and he turned to meet her eyes. “Copia I’m sor–”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.” She nodded but didn’t look very convinced. He turned to see Aether arguing with Dewdrop, probably trying to convince the man he shouldn’t be riding with his wound. Right now Copia didn’t care, who knew where you were at this point? He needed all the help he could get. “You two get the horses ready.”

They quickly headed out the door and Copia was left in the common room with Sunshine and Swiss. He stiffened when the stairs started creaking behind him as Secondo followed them down.

“If you go after her you doom us all.”

“We’re already doomed. If you think Saltarian wouldn’t eventually come after us you’re a fool.”

“What makes this girl worth it? Why are you willing to risk your life, to risk all of our lives for her?”

Copia turned to stare at his brother, feeling the eyes of the other Ghouls on him. He was sure now. Sure about how he felt for you. Sure that you were his and that he was yours.

Sure that he would kill anyone that hurt you.

“Because I love her.”

Go to Chapter 12: Diavolessa

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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marlenesluv · 8 months

Note

(Oscar/gn anon) awesome thankyou! I can't choose, but i reckon a smau maybe with some short fic snippets if that's not too much :) otherwise a normal smau is great :))

Softies. (OP)

yeah, of course! and yess, i love smau’s with fic snippets. i’ll definitely write this :))

request: “hey! I love your work, but can't really relate to the beautiful woman reader. would you be able to do an Oscar piastri/gender neutral Australian archaeologist living in the UK fic? maybe first time at a race/being introduced to some of the grid, or a casual soft launch on insta? but anything you want is also brilliant! pure fluff please, i love the idea of him being proud of me/talking about me a lot. please no fc/physical description, and he calls me his partner not gf/bf. if you write anything I'll love it, but no pressure!!! thankyou!!!”

pairing: oscar piastri x gn!reader archaeologist

fc: none! j pinterest pics used (no physical descriptions)

note: sorry this took me a bit, ive been having a lot of recs! also, i said people were staying in hotels in monaco and ik most drivers live there, but for the plot let’s pretend not, okay?

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

going to oscar’s races when you were busy with work, was difficult. luckily, your boss thought your recent discoveries were out of this world and rewarded you with extra time off. and of course, you texted oscar immediately, knowing that he would want you to go to his next race, which is also what you wanted.

the grid loved you, but you hadn’t released your relationship yet to his fans. oscar had never had a partner before, at least not while he was in formula 1. so you were nervous, and you guys wanted to soft launch over this weekend.

later that night, you packed your bags on facetime and flew out to monaco for the grand prix. living in the uk was great, it’s how you met oscar! but you had always wanted to visit monaco.

before arriving though, you wanted to post a little something on instagram.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 198,024 others

y/n.user: i wonder..🇲🇨🧐

view comments…

formula1updates: is y/n going to monaco for the gp??

charles_leclerc: ratatouille!!

↳ y/n.user: i love ratatouille!

↳ charles_leclerc: me too!

user8: i wonder if they are gonna be in a paddock?

↳ f1wags: 🤔🤔

archeologyfinds: my fav archeologist is going to an f1 race??????

yourbsf: the food🤤

↳ y/n.user: it was soooo yummy

f1editpage: can’t wait to see you on the paddock!! (cuz we all know that they will be, lolzie)

↳ user3: what, you think y/n is dating someone in the grid??

↳ f1editpage: honestly, yes. y/n seems to be extra close with charles and oscar, i’m having suspicions

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after landing, you got into the uber black that oscar had called for you, and made your way to his hotel.

at first, you were nervous to be seen by fans going into the hotel. just two hours ago, all of the drivers pictures were plastered on twitter, instagram and tiktok of the hotels they were seen entering. and only oscar and lando were in the maybourne riviera hotel, meaning that people’s suspicions could be confirmed if they saw you.

“oscar, what if they see me? and if they don’t like me? oh my gosh, what if-“ you were rambling in your shared room oscar has requested. one bed, a living room, a beautiful water view, and of course, a huge bathroom and kitchen.

“y/n, take a breath. its okay. i don’t care what anyone thinks, you’re my partner, not theirs. besides, i want them to know that i’m taken.” oscar smiled, giving you a hug as you sighed into his chest.

as he pulled away and gave you a kiss on the forehead, he went to pick up the phone, “pick out what you want for dinner. we’ll stay in tonight and watch your show.”

not sure if you could have asked for a better boyfriend, you scanned the menu and pointed to what you wanted as he ordered the food to the room.

“alright, let me tell you how much i love you while you eat your pasta, mmk?” he raised a brow and cuddled up next to you as you giggled. “okay, osc.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, y/n.user, and 217,980 others

oscarpiastri: p3 in quali in monaco, lfg🧡🇲🇨

view comments…

piasstri.fp: THE SECOND PIC?

↳ f1fp: FR. WHO TOOK A SHIRTLESS OSCAR PIC?

↳ piasstri.fp: hes GOTTA have a partner, bro. i’m srs

landonorris: congratulations, man!! let’s pole and podium this!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, landoooo! congrats on p2. we’ll do so good 💁‍♂️

user1: congratulations on the p3 and the partner! (it’s obv pls just tell us who)

y/n.user: mclaren 🔛🔝

↳ oscarpiastri: 🧡🙏

↳ landonorris: ohhhh yeahhhhh

y/n.editpage: is that y/n y/l/n??? WTF MY WORLDS COLLIDE

mclaren.fansss: LETS GO

user6: you’ll win🤗

danielricciardo: congratulations, oscar!!!!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, dan!!!

wagupdates: vv suspicious picture there, oscar

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

qualifying was amazing for oscar. he got p3 and couldn’t be happier. i mean, he did say he could i he had gotten p1, but he was over the moon when he got p3.

after qualifying, came race day. which also happened to be the day that oscar wanted to announce your relationship on instagram after the race.

what oscar didn’t tell you, was that he would in fact be kissing you after he won. which he did.

he finally won a race as a rookie, and you couldn’t be prouder. your heart was full as you were standing by zak, waiting to congratulate oscar.

what you didn’t expect, was for him to run to you first, giving you the biggest hug and a kiss, earning hoots from his team and a slap on the back from lando, who came in p2.

“oscar!” you shouted, smiling as he but his lip and smilied. “i’ll see you in a bit!” he shouted back, running to the podium, hoping on the first place one.

zak laughed, warning your attention, “what?” you asked, suddenly a little shyer than before. “nothing. just couldn’t wait for you two too finally make it official.”

“oh…wait- what do you mean ‘finally’?” you stared wide eyed as zak rolled his eyes, “y/n. everyone in mclaren knows. hell, im pretty sure the whole grid knew!” zak left to go stand on the podium with oscar as you looked around.

when they got their trophies, you laughed and watched oscar spray lando with the champagne, and then spraying some charles, who got p3.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 204,249 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.user: congratulations, babe🧡

view comments…

oscarpiastri: i love you❤️

↳ y/n.user: i love you too❤️

formula1updates: HOLD UP. I SHIP

landonorris: they finally made it official, ladies and gents!!

↳ oscarpiastri: get your own partner and then you can FINALLY stop coming on our dates

↳ y/n.user: we look like a family when you come with, lando. pls get a partner

↳ landonorris: no. im happy with third wheeling

user4: AHHHHH IT HAPPENED EVERYONE STAY CALM

piastripage: OSCAR HAS A PARTNER?? who are they??

↳ y/n.fanpage: y/n is an archaeologist! they are amazingggg. loveeeee

user9: you guys are the cutestttt. my friends and i saw you in the paddock!!

paddockgirlies: need me an oscar. he’s so boyfriend

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lewishamilton, and 219,240 others

oscarpiastri: my partner is so smart, they know archeology stuff 🏛️🤗

view comments…

y/n.user: osc🥹🫶

↳ oscarpiastri: 🫶🫶

f1updates: and the most supportive bf award goes toooo🏆

lilymhe: cutiessss

y/nandoscarship: the way he went with them to a work trip? the bar is so high for me now

user4: okay, we get it, you guys are adorable

mclareneditpage: plzzz i need me an oscar

user8: the way y/n calls him ‘osc’🥹🥲

pastry81: my favorite couple on the grid now, thx

danielricciardo: y/n is a better australian than you

↳ y/n.user: this means a lot coming from you, thank you

↳ danielricciardo: you are welcome 🤗🤠🇦🇺🦘

↳ oscarpiastri: oh😕🥲

user1: pretty pictures oh my goshhhh

f1editttt3: where r they??

↳ y/nfp: athens!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #f1 smau #oscar piastri x gn reader #gn reader #smau #fluff #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri fanfic

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lightlycareless · 5 months

Note

I was on Twitter/X and saw someone mention why Naoya is popular among Japanese fans and a big reason apparently is that he speaks in a cutesy dialect that’s only used by girls. And that it’s the kind of way of speaking where girls can insult you and it’s hard to be offended. And now I can only imagine Y/N reacting to this grown man insulting her in this cute dialect 🤭

Heya anon!!!

Yessssss! I quite recently saw a Tiktok talking about that and thought it was really unexpected, but cute at the same time? Ironic for sure too… guess it explains how he got so popular since even the author has called him a total jerk 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Kansai dialect, nor think there’s an equivalent to it in English, so I’m guiding myself with how it was translated in the manga, and perhaps my delusions too 😏 in order to write the following.

warnings: none.

The first time you notice his peculiar way of speaking would be when you met him many, many years ago, in jujutsu high. Everything about him was highly enthralling, from his appearance to his background, but when he opened his mouth…

Your curiosity ramped up to even higher levels, longing to know everything about him, as well as see the extent of his “cutesy” talk.

And boy, does it not disappoint.

It would happen unexpectedly one day. Let’s say that after a bunch boring classes you eventually grew very hungry and tired. So, after deciding you were long overdue for a break (and because you hadn’t prepared anything beforehand) you head over to the cafeteria to get something to eat and rest.

… a big mistake, because soon after you finish eating, you begin to feel sick, stomach twisting and churning, to the point you don’t think yourself capable of continuing with the rest of your classes.

Naoya is amongst the few that (vividly) notices your extended absence, and while he will never admit it out loud, he was worried that something bad happened to you, thus, he roamed across the school grounds in hopes of finding you.

When he does, you’re sitting by one of the benches, tightly holding onto your stomach as you debate whether to die there or die on the way to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naoya bluntly asks.

“I…. I think I ate something spoiled.” You whimper, barely able to look him in the eye.

“Does your tummy hurt or something?”

“Yes, it’s awful, it’s like I’m being—my what?” you blink—did you hear that right?

“Your tummy.” He repeats, oblivious to your reaction, far more preoccupied with your health. “Does it hurt?”

“My… tummy…?” A smile begins to part your lips, and suddenly, your pain is all but forgotten. “Did you say tummy??”

“I… I did….?” Naoya says, flustered and unsure whether this is something good or not to admit.

He soon finds the answer.

“How adorable!!” you gush, and by now, Naoya is red as a tomato—because he clearly doesn’t want to be seen as adorable by his crush!

“I said stomach!! I meant to say stomach!!” He rushes to defend himself, but it’s too late now, he’s already admitted to the crime.

“Noooo, you said tummy!!” you continue to jest. “My thummy wurts vewy, vewy, bad Naoya-kun…”

“Ugh, you can die out here for all I care…”

“No, wait Naoya!” you gasp, quickly standing up and reaching for me. “Can you at least accompany me to the infirmary? I’ll forget about this, I swear!”

Of course, you don’t let this go so easily, in fact, when the two start dating you continue teasing him about it—but you just couldn’t help it!! It just comes to him so naturally, you had to bring it up anytime you could, you know?

“Why are you upset? Did daddy get mad at you again?” you ask.

“Yes! That old man can’t keep himself out of my—wait, no—don’t call him daddy!” Naoya stammers, you giggle. He’s not ignorant to the times he’s condescendingly referred to Naobito with a that “nickname”, yet it didn’t mean he’d like to hear you calling him that as well!

“Why? Do you prefer I’d call you daddy?”

His breath hitches, something igniting inside him.

“…Not here.”

“Ok” you smile. “I won’t call you daddy, then, daddy. Wouldn’t want you to get angry at me.”

“… keep instigating me, princess, and I won’t reward you later tonight.”

I think the more you delve into this aspect of his, the more you find it adorable, to the point where you find his words a bit less serious; however, you’d eventually grow accustomed to it, and maybe even adopted some mannerisms of your own 🤭

I know you were referring to Naoya insulting Y/N but honestly I have no idea how it would be... I'm as dry as dry can get when it comes to it :'( but I still hope you were able to enjoy this small scenario! Gotta say, watching him say daddy in the manga was unexpected, but got me thinking what other things he'd say in that way, you know?

ironically, I think he might be the best when talking to children because of that—when he's not being his tsundere/rude self.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I can't wait to hear how his voice sounds when it's finally animated, I hope they're able to keep his dialect and see what the fuss is all about 🤭😂

Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

117 notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Note

i have a req for nanami 🥹

hate sex with nanami 🫶🏻

(where's he's actually pretty toxic but the reader is too fucked to think)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Hate Sex, Vaginal Sex, Nanami being toxic (and a major bitch), bit of choking, Exes, Creampie, Bathroom Sex, Degradation (Nanami calling reader a slut multiple times)

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

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Your relationship with Kento ended for many reasons. Barely any of them were your fault, majority of them because of Kento. He’s a sweet boyfriend almost all the time. Then other times he’s jealous, controlling, toxic. All the things a boyfriend shouldn’t be. Which is why you left.

You remember his reaction when you broke up with him:

“You’re fucking cheating on me, aren’t you?! How fucking dare you?! After I spent so much time and effort into this fucking relationship?! You’re such a fucking slut, that’s all you’ll ever be. I should’ve known when you went out with that skirt that practically showed your ass. You’re just begging for someone to fuck you.”

That’s all he said before storming out of the place. He came back a couple of hours later to make up, but you locked yourself in the bedroom. You haven’t seen him ever since that day. So it’s awkward when you bump into each other at a wedding.

It’s even more awkward when you’re forced to sit at the same table. You try to ignore him, but it’s hard when he looks so handsome sitting right across from you. He has a date who he’s not all interested in… If you had to guess she’s a co-worker that he asked last minute.

You stand up after a couple of drinks to use the bathroom. You walk inside, and when you’re about to walk into a stall, you’re stopped by his firm grip. You hadn’t noticed that he walked right behind you. You turn around to face Kento.

“What are you doing here with that dress? Are you trying to outshine the bride?” Kento asks, and you chuckle in response. “You’re driving me insane.”

His hands go to your waist and his lips peck yours before his lips begin to kiss your neck. You assume that he locked the door to the bathroom when he came in here so you don’t physically stop him. Yet you say,

“I broke up with you for a reason.” You tell him while you feel as he sucks on your neck. A whimper leaves your lips as he sucks on that one spot. When he pulls away, he picks you up and puts you down on the sink.

He kisses your lips again before he kisses down your neck. He begins to lift up your dress, one hand rubbing over your clothed cunt while he bites down on your exposed shoulder. Soft moans leave your lips as he plays with your clit. The last thing you thought was that you’d end up here with him, especially after swearing you’d never talk to him again. And you still say it while he plays with your cunt, “You don’t deserve me.”

“I don’t.” His low voice says into your ear. He wants to make it quick. Prep you a bit before getting his dick wet. His date is waiting for him outside and he can’t make her wait… Although you’re here looking so pretty for him so he might have to take his time. “But you know you want me to fuck you dumb, don’t you?”

You don’t answer because he’s right. He pushes your panties to the side, and begins to spit on your cunt, pulling his zipper down to get his dick out. He has a condom in his wallet, but he’ll opt out tonight. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, “Hmmm… I wonder how many guys have touched your slutty pussy.”

“Shut up and fuck me.” You respond, and he chuckles in response. He ends up plunging himself into you, every inch inside of you within seconds. He stretches your cunt out and begins to thrust rapidly in and out of you, not giving you any time to adjust.

“You’re so tight for a fucking slut.” He comments, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock makes you feel so good. You don’t like the words that leave Kento’s lips, but you can only think about reaching an orgasm.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Kento groans, loving the way your cunt wraps around him, something that he’s been thinking about for days, pretending as if his hand were you. His hand really can’t compare to the real thing. His eyes watch as his cock thrusts in and out of you while one hand wraps around your neck.

“God, if only you could see the way your cunt is taking me in…” He says, his hand squeezing your throat. You’re moaning, his cock hitting all the right spots. You feel as your orgasm approaches while he’s moaning into your ear. You shouldn’t be doing this with him after you were set on never seeing him again… But after the first look, after the first touch it was inevitable. Especially when he fucks you so right.

“Shit… I’m gonna-” You begin, and he feels as your cunt begins to squeeze around him. You shut your eyes, your body spasming as you come around him.

He continues rapidly thrusting in and out of you, chasing after his release. He won’t last too much with the way your cunt wraps around him, and the way your moans encourage him. You’re thinking about how you need to do this more often with him. It’s the way his cock feels as it thrusts in and out of you.

“Fuck… Are you going to take my cum like a good little slut? Hmm… Yeah you are.” He says, his lips landing on yours. His tongue pressing against yours as his thrusts get sloppy. He comes within seconds, filling you up with his cum. He pulls away from the kiss, “Of course you took my cum… Can I really be surprised?”

“Shut up.” You end up rolling your eyes as you adjust your panties. You’ll never allow him to do this again… Or so you think before he says,

“You look really pretty tonight, by the way.”

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the-west-meadow · 1 year

Note

Can you write "I’m trying to say that I’m glad you’re here." from your prompt list? ☺️

Kendall Roy x Reader

prompt: I'm trying to say that I'm glad you're here.

It was the day after Kendall’s birthday party and you hadn’t heard from him all morning. The last time you had seen him, he was completely wasted, getting ready to perform on stage in front of his guests. The sight of him so out of control was too painful to bear, so you had quietly slipped out without any goodbyes.

Now there was radio silence from Kendall. You didn’t know what he was thinking; was he angry at you for leaving early? There was no way to tell. So you got dressed, headed down the street towards the nearest coffeeshop, where you bought two black coffees then took a cab to Kendall’s townhouse.

It was a long time before anyone came to the door. When he finally did, it was like watching a vampire face the sunlight for the first time. He looked awful. Dark bags under his eyes, hair disheveled, wearing just a t-shirt and shorts.

“Shit. Did I call you?” he said.

“Nope. Just bringing coffee to the birthday boy.”

“Did you want to come in?”

“Is there anything in there I shouldn’t see?”

“No, no. I’m all alone.”

He led you inside, taking a seat on the big sectional sofa in the living room. The curtains were drawn, the TV on mute with footage showing the outside of his party venue the night before. He quickly turned it off.

“That was the biggest shitshow of my life.”

You slid the coffee towards him. He took a grateful sip.

“Sorry I couldn’t stay,” you said.

“I’m actually glad you didn’t.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Sorry. Fuck. That came out wrong. I mean I’m glad you didn’t get to see me embarrass myself any further.”

“It’s okay. It was a good time while it lasted.”

He cupped the coffee in his hands, gazing off.

“I wish the whole night had gone differently," he said. "I feel like a fucking joke. Nobody takes me seriously.”

“That sounds like your dad talking.”

“I’ve had his voice in my head my entire life. I can’t get it out.”

He massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers, closing his eyes.

“Then you show up here with coffee. And it’s the last thing I fucking deserve after how I acted last night.”

“I can go if you’d rather be alone…”

His eyes opened suddenly. It almost frightened you how sad and pleading they looked.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m trying to say I’m glad you’re here. I’m just a fucking asshole and all my words come out wrong when I’m hungover.”

He took a deep breath then looked straight at you.

“I’m glad you’re here because you’re the only person who has bothered to reach out to me since last night. I’m all over the fucking news, Twitter, whatever. And yet not one person has sent me so much as a text to see how I’m doing. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect them to. But the very fact that you’re here is just…”

He shook his head, averting his eyes.

“I feel like I don’t fucking deserve it.”

“Kendall.”

He looked up at you again, eyes questioning.

“I wish I had been with you last night," you said. "I shouldn’t have left. I didn’t want to see you like that. It hurts. But it hurts even more to know you came back here alone.”

You choked up, throat suddenly tight. Kendall reached for you automatically.

“No, no, no. Come here.”

He took your wrist gently, pulling you around to his side of the sofa.

“It’s not your job to take care of me while I’m being a drunk asshole.”

“Is it bad that I kind of want to?”

For the first time he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

“No. That’s amazing, actually.”

“Let me make you breakfast.”

“I can see you’re not going to take no for an answer. At least let me make some toast.”

“Deal.”

You started to get up, but he gently grabbed your hand again.

“Hey,” he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead he wrapped his arms around you. He hugged you with the desperation of a child who hadn’t been held in a very long time. You squeezed him back, his warm body in your arms, his voice murmuring in your ear:

“Thank you.”

#hurt/comfort #kendall roy #succession #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy/reader #reader insert #tw: alcohol mention

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

Day 27 - Uniform

Pairing: Dick Grayson x gn!reader

Warnings: if you’re under 18, get out of the kinktober tag and go read the books you have for class

Summary: You come home and Dick is wearing his uniform. Nol not that one. But maybe that one too.

Note: ok first of all, I’m so tired of writing smut, I’m sorry y’all. Second of all, ACAB! But the person who requested this asked police uniform even tho canonically he wasn’t a cop for that long in the comics

Kinktober Masterlist

“Well, well, look at this surprise.”

You pushed off the doorframe and approached the bed. Dick grinned as you stepped closer and you couldn’t help but let a soft smile flit across your face. Both of your schedules had been a mess for the past two weeks and you hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes. Like two ships passing in the night.

But here he was, lying on your bed in his beat cop uniform, a sly smile on his face.

“Steph is taking over for patrol tonight because Babs threatened to post the emo pics I took when I was fifteen on Twitter if I didn’t take the night off,” he explained.

“So you came home and fell asleep in your uniform,” you finished for him. He shrugged, his grin slipping into a more sheepish expression. You kneeled onto the bed and crawled up so you were straddling his waist. You ran your hands over his chest and leaned down to kiss him. He chased your lips as you pulled away, hungry for the taste of you.

“Well, Officer Grayson, someone should help you get out of these clothes.”

Your breath fanned out across his neck and you leaned down to suck a hickey at a spot below his collar. Dick’s hands grabbed at your ass as you moved to unbutton his shirt. You had two buttons opened before you sat back and snickered.

“What?”

He glanced down at his undershirt and grimaced. Dick sighed as you slid off to the side and collapsed into a heap beside him on the bed, giggles escaping you.

“Listen, I haven’t had time for laundry,” he said in defense.

Your laughter only increased. Dick started to chuckle as well as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. You buried your face against his neck and muffled your laughter against his skin.

“Since when did you have a shirt with your own damn symbol on it?” you spluttered. “Why haven’t I seen this yet?”

“Duke got us all shirts with our symbols on it for the sole purpose of giving Bruce a heart attack.”

You bit back another laugh and slipped your hand under the soft cotton shirt with Nightwing’s bright blue logo splayed across his chest. “Well, Nightwing, what if I told you I was in need of saving?”

His gaze darkened. “How can I be of assistance?”

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing smut

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ohwhataniight · 2 months

Text

more than the world can contain - Chapter 4: A Scandal in Belgravia - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Songs I was listening to while writing:

Sherlocked

Faded

Tango del Fuego

So. I can't stop writing and posting little bits of my WIP. It's horrible. I can't seem to be able to sit down and proofread and complete it before I appear on your dashboard again. Anyway, please forgive my impatience once again.

Irene Adler makes me hot. Seriously, every character in this universe makes me swoon. Impertinent.

Now that’s a visual and auditory experience I never expected I’d acquire. Sherlock Holmes, the mighty and seemingly heartless (I declare bullshit to that) detective, lying like a giant lump in his bed under covers he keeps throwing off, tossing and turning, his voice alternating between tiny whimpers and an anxious baritone. “I am not in love, I am not in love.”

In retrospect, I should have seen this coming. I had been foolish enough to be comforted by his “married to my work” facade and assume that this - us, solving crimes together - would keep being enough for him. I should have listened to Donovan. “He’ll get bored of you” meaning you’ll never be enough. Because, apparently, people who could be enough for Sherlock do exist, after all, in the form of women who match him in wits and ineffability. It only makes sense that he has to deny being in love with such a person, a woman, now that was unexpected, only a day into meeting her. Such forms of denial, when uttered with such desperation by those lips, are akin to a declaration.

Honestly, I don’t know what this sinking feeling in my stomach really signifies. I should have expected this, and even if I hadn’t, I shouldn’t care. I don’t know why I care, why it feels so ugly and wrong that Sherlock Holmes is so adamantly denying (declaring) his love for a woman who, painful as it is to admit, is a perfect match for his mind and his looks. I think I have sort of become addicted to this - this us, again - to being handcuffed together, running around foggy London hand-in-hand, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, just the two of us, sleuth brothers-in-arms, colleagues, friends.

For some reason I can only blurrily see, my knees give out with the idea of someone else stepping into the equation.

“He’ll get bored of you”.

About bloody time I realized that, then.

But for now, he’s unconscious, and distressed, and he needs me. So I provide the comfort he requires, my hand brushing damp, stray curls away from his forehead, stroking his head, hushing him, taking it all in (including the image of his lipstick-stained skin) while I still can, privy to the fact that the only reason he accepts that is because he’s high as a fucking kite. The realization tugs painfully on my heart like a rusty hook.

Yet, he seems to want me here, leans into the touch, drags me close with his arms wrapped like tentacles around my waist when I make an attempt to withdraw after musing on consent, and when he calls my name I realize that I’m more than okay to do that for the most brilliant man in the world.

I’m okay with him needing me, until he realizes he doesn’t anymore.

Tasteful touch, the moaning. It attracts some delightfully appalled stares. Especially from John. He’s been counting.

She is interesting too, diverting, even. A pleasant distraction. I stalk her on Twitter, become occupied with her in more ways than one. I never respond to her texts, and yet it’s still somehow like a two-way conversation. She catches up quickly, she understands. It’s refreshing to find someone who is equally intrigued by The Game, and fit to follow (or even lead, sometimes).

Until her texts become all about John Watson.

Still not responding?

Are you so terribly busy, Mr. Holmes?

You’re having breakfast together, aren’t you? How domestic.

I can do to you things that would make John Watson blush.

We could let him watch.

John watching. John participating. John. The images materialize instantly in my head - it’s the curse of exceptional intelligence combined with a synaesthetic ability of sorts. Damn my mind palace. Thankfully, the presence of both Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson in the room is distasteful enough for me to be able to brush off every and any unsettling image involving the Woman and John.

To be continued...

#sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fanfiction #johnlock fic #sherlock #fanfiction #queer #gay #a scandal in belgravia #irene adler

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hoeforalbedo · 2 years

Text

Fanfition and Stimulation

Ike Eveland x Fem bodied Reader

Warning: Sex, penetration, cockwarming, edging, writing fanfics, mentions of quildren during sex (doesn’t actually say the fandom name), humiliation, degrade.

“You know darling, you’ve gotten so bold, but not to worry. I find it very amusing,” Ike speaks directly next to your ear, his voice like dripping honey. If it weren’t for his cock buried deep inside your warm soaked pussy, the whole scenario would have been adorable. Just you and your fiance cuddled up writing stories together.

Maybe you should’ve been careful and yet again, your rising fame made it hard. To make it clear, you are famous on lots of fanfiction platforms. You’re most well known for your back arching, toe curling, mind numbing smut of your YouTube streamer fiancee, Ike Eveland.

To think that I had to hold back because you’re oh so precious but underneath that you’re nothing but a little dirty whore,” He speaks sweetly yet he’s mocking you. You suck a deep breath of air, pausing the work of your fingers. How could you focus on writing a story purely on sex when Ike has you sat on his cock?

You hadn’t expected to gain much attention yet the surprise it was for some of your stories to spread like wildfire on twitter. Some have even drawn fan art of such scenarios and of course tagging Ike’s tags. How could he not see that? You could have gotten away with it, honestly, if he hadn’t seen you scrolling through fanfictions the other time and your username is very memorable. The notifications on your phone don't help you either.

Now, here you are, typing yet another obscene fanfiction of Ike. What’s different is that he’s inside you and he’s trailing kisses down your neck and fondling with your exposed breasts. He pinches a nipple which makes you gasp. “You made a little grammar mistake, darling.” He sounds like an english teacher and yet he makes the idea of it sound very arousing.

After a few more clicks and clacks of the keyboard, your brain runs out of ideas, or it merely becomes blank, you can’t tell. Who could ever focus on what they’re doing when your partner is balls deep into your cunt and touching you in all the right places? All you want is for him to thrust himself up your dripping hole. It doesn’t help either that not only are you turned on by the scenario, you’re very much turned on by your writing.

“Ike,” You mumble. “Can’t do it anymore,” Your words quiver a bit.”

“Are you sure you can’t do it anymore or you don’t want to do it anymore?” He asks and obviously the answer is the latter. You really don’t want to continue writing this fanfiction. What you want is for him to stop his silly schemes and fuck you dumb.

“Ikey!” You whine like a spoiled brat. He would always listen immediately to your whines. “Please I don’t know what to write anymore!”

“Oh but what could be so hard about it? You’re only writing a detailed story of everything that I’m doing to you. Wouldn’t your readers enjoy this story? Imagine how my silly fans would scream when they find out how good I can fuck. You’re doing the both of us a favor, my love.”

Ike may make it seem like such an amazing thing but to think they read your story. To them it may be self insert but they don’t know that it’s you. It’s almost like exposing how submissive you are for Ike. It’s humiliating yet they’d never know. It’s a bit arousing in some peculiar way.

“I can always help you write an amazing story. You want me to fuck you right,” Ike asks, his hand resting on your throat. He’d never actually choke you because he’s too afraid to hurt you. Instead he would rub the area just above your pulse and that action alone makes you clench around his dick.

“Please Ike,” You beg.

“I’ll give you something to write about but you better keep writing or else you won’t be cumming anytime soon,” He orders. His hips start grinding up into your cunt, not enough that you’d be dazed from reality but just enough to get you off. “Start writing.”

Your hands work shakily yet the story is getting quite some good details. They do say that the best way to write a story is to write from experience. You would try to bite your lip, trying to keep your moans from coming out because if one manages to slip, then many more will soon follow and you both know that you wouldn’t be able to write anything if that happens. If you are to get distracted from the task Ike ordered you to complete, then you would get a punishment, that being unable to reach your high. He’d only extend it continuously and by the rate he’s going, you don’t think his main mission is to get you to complete that story. No, his mission is to do anything to keep you from finishing it in hopes to edge you for hours and hours.

#ike smut #ike x reader #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike #luxiem #luxiem x reader #ike eveland smut #luxiem smut #nijisanji en #ike x you #ike eveland x you #luxiem x you

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mllllonsknlves · 11 months

Text

Knives’ Knives

Reposting another twitter thread I made for archival purposes. Its literally a copy and paste and more images are shown on the original twitter post just because tumblr is janky when adding so many images to a text post.

So I was watching tristamp for the hundredth time and noticed something I hadn't picked up on before. Millions Knives' blades have different modes. Four that we've seen so far to be exact.

The one shown here is most common. A default state, folded and seemingly duller than others. Even the wire connecting the blades is rounded. This is the form we see most often, and the only form shown directly in front of Vash (that we've seen so far, will touch on again later.)

These seem to be an attack stance for the blades. The wire even expands into what could cause more damage than just the blades alone. The first are pointed outward while the second is pointed inward, depending on the purpose being served- attacking versus grabbing.

We then have the detached blades. They start in the default state but seem to expand as more form.

Even in the preview for episode 11, Knives uses the folded, almost rounded blades. Because he's in front of Vash and doesn't REALLY want to harm him, at least not more than necessary.

Obviously, Nai uses the folded blades when trying to connect with the core. He does not want to harm it. The end of the blades act at a connecting point, and its likely very similar to how he connected with Vash in the first place.

What is particularly fascinating is that even when attacking Meryl, his blades are folded. It's most likely due to the fact that Vash is RIGHT BEHIND her and doesn't want to get him in the crossfire. His blades are still folded upon impact with Vash's gun.

He does not extend the blades at the start of their fight. Not once do they open beyond the folded state, not at a distance, and not hand to hand. Even when theyre out in the open and hes flinging Vash around, theyre still folded. We see him manipulate them with extreme accuracy, and yet even when they're in freefall, he does not USE THEM AT ALL. Not to grab Vash or the cube.

Even after slaughtering all the soldiers and he floats menacingly above Vash to continue their argument, his blades are folded. So, either he can still cause that damage while folded, or the more likely thing, is that he refolded them after killing them to confront Vash again.

The entire rest of their fight. Folded. Grabbing the angel arm. Folded.

HOWEVER. AND THIS IS THE MOST HEARTBREAKING THING OF ALL. ONCE HE HAS DECIDED THAT THE NAI THAT VASH KNEW IS DEAD. That is when the blades expand. Because he's snapped. Broken. He has /truly/ and /wholly/ become Millions Knives in that moment, because he has lost Vash.

Its also worth noting that his blades and his wings are burned off before he lets go. Something something symbolism. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the agony uvu

I found more things to add to the things that were said above upon another watch through. Not sure theyre particularly poignant, but thought they were interesting enough to tack on.

So I was watching ep3 and noticed how many times Knives swaps between the modes. The initial grab of the first women, the blades are pulled in the back position, but the second woman is grabbed with them in the forward position and dragged away and killed with the back position.

Immediately after, we see Knives advancing the steps and his blades floating around them in the forward stance. When they shoot forward to seek out the Plant, theyre back. As he goes to jump, theyre forward again.

As soon as the Plant is grabbed, the blades are folded, showing the care he has for them. There is one instance of them being forward, but likely just to get a more secure hold. Otherwise, always folded.

The ONLY INSTANCE (save for those final moments in 12) where Knives uses an "attack stance" of his blades in front of Vash is when he's using them to block bullets. In defense.

He is INCREDIBLY deliberate with how his blades are used and shows a high level of skill. He wields them with PURPOSE. Anyway, thank you for tuning into another episode of my hyperfixation o/

#lore dump #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #millions knives #knives

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khiita · 2 years

Text

this is a warning to tumblr and twitter artists + people in the interactive fiction fandom about my experience with faeinthefog/ElouanVT. faeinthefog seems to be a polish person that goes by the names Anna/Andi/Anka. they are also associated with the acct names AnnabelleShep13, sapphovonchat, andi-the-cat, and their username in AO3 is Mephale.

if you are an artist and have been commissioned by FAEINTHEFOG / ELOUANVT / ANNA or ANKA W**** in the past year, please contact me. there is a 99.9% chance that you unknowingly drew an original character that they stole from me. the other 00.1% chance is that it was stolen from someone else. for the record, at least two of the artists i managed to contact are involved in the mo dao zu shi / the untamed fandom.

i didn’t know that this person existed, hadn’t ever–knowingly–interacted with them in my life until yesterday (august 22nd), when i found out that they had been stealing my art and every single detail about my ocs for months. but what they did to me goes way deeper than that, so here it goes:

this all started yesterday morning, when scrolling through tumblr i saw that a friend had reblogged a commission of a main character for The Nameless that looked startlingly like my oc, Euridi. Euridi is a character i first created in 2013 and, just like with all my ocs, everything about her is deeply personal to me–i’ve drawn vent art featuring her plenty of times, so i immediately felt sick seeing that she was stolen, and contacted the artist.

while i was trying not to freak out and waiting for them to reply (which they did, and they were very kind and understanding–took everything down, cleared up some things for me) my friends started digging into faeinthefog, and everything went to shit after they found their twitter account, ElouanVT. in it, this person seemed to have frankensteined a fake personality, using selfies of a small polish influencer called igarosa as their face, and they posted not only the Euridi commission, claiming she was their oc and not bothering to even change her name, but they also posted my own art, claiming it was theirs, as well as multiple other commissions they had gotten of my characters.

besides this artist, who had done three commissions for faeinthefog, my friends and i were able to find four more of them. i’ve heard back from two of them so far, and i want to clarify that none of the artists seem to have known that the characters were stolen, and they are not to blame for what faeinthefog had been doing. it seems that the way faeinthefog would commission the artists was sending them profiles and descriptions they had copy-pasted from my blog, as well as sending them picrews that i had previously posted. both of the artists i talked to confirmed this. i believe faeinthefog started stalking me and stealing my creations about 9 months ago, since that was when they created their (now deleted) account on notebook.ai where they had uploaded at least 15 of my characters, if not all (i felt too fucking nauseous about it all to scroll through everything).

the reason that this freak shit flew under the radar for so long despite the considerably small size of the IF fandom is that when faeinthefog posted the commissions on tumblr, they never once said the oc’s name and rarely credited the artist responsible. meanwhile, on twitter they not only name-dropped my characters, but also (in my opinion) seemed to claim that each interactive fiction that features the characters is a story of their own making, as seen in the way they talked about Parker's The Nameless in their tweet featuring Euridi. it should be noted that in their tumblr blog description they referred to themself as a “game dev”, i've yet to find anything they have actually made themselves besides my trauma, however. here are examples of commissions they’ve gotten of my characters and the way they talked about Attollo, Body Count, Swan Song and Andromeda 6 as if those stories were their own work.

not only did faeinthefog steal my designs, my art and any word i’d typed about my characters, they also stole my oc spotify playlists as well as my pinterest boards, pin by pin. before they deleted their pinterest account, i saw that the last time they’d pinned something was two weeks ago. truly fucking insane behavior.

i have noticed that they even copied who my ocs were in a relationship with in each game. furthermore, whenever this person posted my art on twitter, each and every single time they would also copy the exact caption i had written on tumblr. even if it made no sense at all out of context. when it came to posting my ocs as their own, they also used quotes that i had already used in my own profiles.

i want to add that i am either friends, in semi-regular contact, or alpha-reading for five out of the ten authors i mentioned, and from what i gathered none of them were truly aware of this person or what they were doing either. the authors who had reblogged commissions that faeinthefog posted were kind enough to delete them after they found out as well.

speaking of friends though!!! as if all of this creepy bullshit wasn’t enough, besides reposting my art, faeinthefog would repost gift art i’ve received from my friends, claiming it had been made for them by their friends–without changing any names. i also found at least one instance of them reposting art i’ve made for artfight, name-dropping the giftee even when i hadn’t, which meant they had to go digging through other people’s blogs to get them.

(the embed for this one broke and i couldn’t include the picture, but the repost was of this art i made last year during artfight for tumblr user @/whoreromancer, with my signature cut out.)

as you can see, this person had been blatantly stealing from me for months, claiming to have made the things i’ve created and claiming the people i love had any sort of relationship with them. i honestly can’t find any other explanation for this behavior + the fact that they commissioned my characters multiple times other that calling it an obsession with me (after some digging done by my friends, we haven’t seen them steal from anyone else, for better or worse) and honestly, fucking insanity. as i have stated before all of this hurt me deeply and freaked both me and my friends out a lot. anyone who knows me knows how much love and dedication i put into everything i make, including my pinterest boards and playlists, so thankfully i received a lot of love and support from my community.

it does make me wonder though, whether faeinthefog targeted me thinking i had a small blog and no one would notice/care? wherever this person is now that they’ve deleted the accounts i knew about, i have no doubt in my mind that their behavior won’t change, and if they don’t continue to rip me off, they might invent themself a new personality and pick someone else. my friends and i have reason to believe that (despite their clear lack of imagination) this person is willing to switch identities in order to have an online presence, and we have no reason to believe that they won’t come back. i hope the IF fandom continues to watch out for each other. i added watermarks to all my art, which i think might be a good idea for everyone to do? i never thought someone would steal my art/ocs and yet here we are.

thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who helped me and supported me during this mess.

#signal boost #interactive fiction #choice of games #itchio #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #faeinthefog #sapphovonchat #art theft #i think those r enough tags #i've also known them to be in the critical role fandom ftr. so idk if anyone finds more comms let me know and otherwise be careful !!#ari.txt

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cupcakeshakesnake · 1 year

Text

[PotC] Canon Jack Sparrow ends up in Harbor Town

You know what’s funny? I dreamt up most of this. That’s right, I dreamt I was typing this out, word by word, and then woke up.

So here it is. Basically, canon Jack Sparrow somehow crashes the Pearl into AU!Jones’ ship (though he doesn’t remember that very well), and gets hospitalized.

Like I said, this came from a dream so not everything makes sense.

The sensation of something sharp piercing the skin on his left arm roused Captain Jack Sparrow into half-consciousness; perhaps someone had removed a splinter? The spot was still sore, after all. Jack kept his eyes shut as he lay and tried to discern any noise that might give a clue as to where he was. There was no distant chatter of a drunken crowd, no twittering of birds, though if he strained his ears he swore he could hear the ocean waves crashing into a rocky beach. Closer, though, were the unrecognizable sounds of something inorganic; quiet hums and beeps he had perhaps never before heard in his life.

Now what could those possibly be? He pondered.

He had heard many people whispering, muttering, pacing back and forth around him as his lost consciousness; and he had definitely heard someone briskly walking away as he regained it. But now there was no sign of people whatsoever.

Enough ear-straining. Time to open his eyes.

Among the first things he noticed upon waking was that, to his chagrin, most of his clothes were gone, replaced with a clean white set of trousers and shirt. They were embroidered with patterns of a small green cross. Was he at a religious institute, then? That explained why he wasn’t in prison yet even after his pirate mark had clearly been seen. Perhaps he had some time at these people’s mercy before he needed to start worrying about a hanging.

The next thing in his sights was a very good-looking piece of bread, with a glass of milk, sitting on his bedside table - yes, he was indeed lying on a proper bed, sheets and all, not some makeshift ledge of hay - and no, no splinter had been removed from his arm. In fact, something was inserted into his arm connected by a long, thin, opaque line, ending in a translucent rectangular container of liquid hanging from what looked like a coat rack. He poked at it with his free hand. It jiggled slightly. The container itself was a fluid, then? No, no it wasn’t; it felt more like see-through waterskin. Jack squinted at it and decided to leave the investigation for another day.

Another quite prominent thing to be noticed was how squeaky clean everything was. The clothes on his back, the bed he was lying in, the plate of bread, the bedside table, even the curtains surrounding him - everything was white and spotless as he had never before seen in his life.

Real fancy place for honorable gents, innit, now what’s a pirate like me doing here? he thought.

Just then, the sun entered the ceiling - no, it was an artificial light but so bright it nearly blinded him - as the curtains were whipped open and a cheery voice greeted him.

“Ah, you’re already awake! Good! How are you feeling?”

A cheery human voice. Company, at last.

The source of the voice was a portly lady with a kindly face that could have fit right in as the housekeeper of a lordly manor, if only she hadn’t been wearing that strange white gown.

Nevertheless, Jack’s first instinct was to locate his pistol - or it would have been, had all his effects not been taken. He decided to play along, then. After all, if she’d seen that pirate mark and still decided to let him stay, it couldn’t hurt to make use of their kindness a little more, could it?

“What’s your name?” she asked, bustling about, looking into strange devices he had merely dismissed as furnishings prior.

“Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow,” he slurred out.

“Good! Nice name,” she responded absentmidedly as she fiddled with yet another device, before turning to face him with a hint more seriousness.

“Now then, Mr. Sparrow,” she started, “you were involved in an… incident right before you were hospitalized-”

Hospital, that’s where I am, he thought. I’ve only ever heard of ‘em bein’ in London for the wealthy folks.

Yet he could tell from the lady’s accent and the distant sounds of the sea that he was most definitely not in London.

The lady was still speaking. “-and though you seem to be suffering a myriad of minor health issues that do need attention, there are some people who would like to discuss the incident with you, seeing as, well, you’re more or less the one that caused it,” she finished apologetically.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Would these fine folks be, if I may, be in any close relevance to forces of the Navy and the like?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all, it wasn’t that serious,” she waved a hand in the air. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll let them in…”

And off she went.

A moment later, he heard an unseen door open. Four people walked in. The first three were men in uniforms, but Jack could only describe them as such because they shared the same outfit; in terms of formality, they all looked rather ridiculous, sporting white tops and black trousers, funny little hats and those green vests so bright it was an eyesore to look at. Their names were embroidered into little rectangles stuck onto their chests; the first one read M. Higgs, the next one G. Murtogg, the third A. Mullroy.

He could swear he recognized the last two, as if he had seen them before; the French called it deja vu - but it was impossible… He blamed it on his sleep-ridden brain-

Until the fourth man walked in.

Much shorter than the rest, this one was dressed differently - almost entirely in grey save for a dark green neckcloth. His hair was slicked back in an unfamiliar fashion, and his legs ended in plain-looking black shoes instead of boots…

But there was no mistaking that face.

Jack’s brown eyes met the man’s cold grey ones and his heart stopped for a moment.

“Have I seen you before?”

“My name,” said the man patiently, “is Cutler Beckett. I am a branch director of the East Isles Trading Company-”

“Wasn’t it East India?”

The man chose to ignore him. “-and your… seventeenth century vessel has crashed into that of one of my employees. You understand, then, that some legal action has to be taken here.”

Jack Sparrow flashed a wry smile. So there it was; he was once more in trouble after all.

But first, he had a thought -

“What time is it, mate?”

Cutler Beckett frowned slightly.

“As in, the time of the clock, or the date?”

“Both’s be much appreciated, methinks.”

The man raised a hand to apparently check a device that was strapped to his wrist.

“It is currently two forty-five in the morning,” and his eyes seemed to say You’re making me stay up this late, “and today is Wednesday, third of October, in the year two thousand twenty-three.”

“Aha!” Jack shouted. “So the East India Company just changed its name over time, and you, you must be the great-great-great-great grandson of that son of a mongrel who chased me to hell and back what’s taken his name, eh? Blimey, you look just like him!”

Cutler Beckett looked entirely perplexed.

“I’m sorry?”

His facial expression was saying some more… impolite… words.

Ah, mate, you were always full of indecency you never dared show, ‘n now it’s showin’ in your sonny too, Jack thought.

But just as quickly, it was Jack’s turn for the confusion to settle in.

“Wait,” he repeated slowly, “you said it was… two thousand… and twenty… three?”

“Yes.”

“As in, Ano Domini? The Year of our Lord?”

“That is correct.” Beckett somehow managed to sound even more impatient.

“Well I’ll be,” Jack breathed out.

When Beckett turned up, he had known it was time to think fast, and he did; but now that the fast-thinking was done, and the insane conclusion of his having travelled into the future was somehow proven right, the only thought remaining was, Now what?

“Seeing as you’re too… intoxicated... to know the date,” Beckett drawled out, “perhaps the discussion of the incident at hand could wait until you’ve… recovered further.”

Jack stared blankly at him.

“Incident,” he repeated.”Incident, incident, you people keep saying incident, do you mind filing me in?”

Beckett scowled at him as though he were an orphan boy that had asked for yet another coin out of his pocket.

“Your damaging of the cargo ship owned by one Mr. Davy Jones.”

What?

“What?”

Instead of answering, the grey-suited man turned to one of his vest-wearing guardsmen. “Let’s leave him,” Jack heard him speak quietly. “He’s in no condition to-” “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, wait just a minute, I do know this Davy Jones,” he blurted out.

“‘N I know the ship of his can’t be damaged in no way so-” he paused. “Did you say cargo ship?”

“That is what I said,” Beckett’s gaze seemed almost pitying as he turned to leave. “And his vessel is indeed damaged, but we’ll save that discussion for later. Goodnight.”

And out they went, leaving Captain Jack Sparrow alone with more questions than he ever bargained for.

#harbor town au #potc #jack sparrow #cutler beckett #captain jack sparrow #fanfic #writing #pirates of the caribbean #yep... canon-au crossover #tbh it's a topic I've discussed with friends a few times #but never posted about

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comphy-and-cozy · 2 years

Text

Third Time’s the Charm - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x plus sized!Reader (f)

Summary: Tyson Jost has been your best friend since you were kids. After a drunken hookup, you thought you’d lost him forever - that is, until he gets traded to the Minnesota Wild, conveniently the city in which you now reside. Will the former flame return when you reunite, or has the time changed everything forever?

Word Count: 11.1K

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @jostystyles for @antoineroussel's Summer Fic Exchange! I had an absolute blast writing this, and I tried to factor in as many of Emmie’s requests as I could (including several appropriately-placed Harry mentions, of course). Hope you enjoy, and happy belated birthday, sweetness! Also huge s/o to Demi for beta reading and daydreaming over Tys with me. ☺️🖤

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) and angst (but a happy ending I promise). Alcohol use/mention and drunk hookup reference, language, plus sized body insecurity/themes, mutual pining, mentions of The Trade, oral sex (m + f receiving), protected sex, (1) overused trope, and multiple Harry Styles references.

Masterlist

Part 1: The Reunion

It was like any other Tuesday when you got the news, scrolling Twitter on your lunch break when a headline caught your eye.

BREAKING: TYSON JOST TRADED TO WILD BY AVALANCHE FOR NICO STURM

The name struck you, familiar and foreign all at once. You hadn’t seen him in years, and outside of the occasional birthday text or Instagram message, you hardly spoke to him, either. But here he was, apparently moving to Minnesota all the same.

When you were kids, you were inseparable. On your first day of kindergarten, you had burst into tears immediately upon walking into the school. A small, dark haired boy with curly hair walked right up to you, gave you a hug, and took your hand, leading you to your classroom with a smile. That boy was Tyson Jost. You hadn’t known it yet, but he would soon become your first — and best — friend.

He was your first kiss on the playground in the 3rd grade, blushing in the alcove of the slide on the jungle gym. A girl in your class dared you to do it, and you were determined, marching right up to him and kissing him on the mouth, before sticking your tongue out at him and sliding down the spiral slide.

In middle school, you went to your first dance with another boy, but ended the night in tears and outside on the swings with Tyson when you caught your date kissing someone else. The next dance, you went with Tyson platonically, awkwardly swaying while his hands rested firmly on your upper hip, looking anywhere but in your eyes.

When he moved away to British Columbia to go to the hockey academy, you’d cried for a week, the loss insurmountable to your teenage self. Despite being hours away from your best friend, you’d talked every night on the phone, trying to act like nothing had changed, keeping each other abreast of the updates in your day.

But, over time, those phone calls became less frequent, and the updates became more vague. Tyson got busier with travel and was being seriously scouted, and you were involved with your own studies and extracurriculars. Tyson was never gone completely, though – you worked part time at the concession stand of the local hockey rink, and every dark haired boy that ordered chicken fingers had him dancing across your mind, wondering what he was doing, fingers twitching to send him a text.

Things changed even more once he got drafted to the Avalanche. Despite the distance that had grown between you through the years, disappointing but understood by both of you as part of life, you still made the invite list for his first NHL game, sitting with his mom and sister in the stands. In celebration of the thrilling shootout win, you later ended the night tangled with Tyson in the sheets, a drunken and awkwardly not-that-awkward hook up that transformed your relationship forever.

Since that night, you hadn’t spoken. You’d slipped out of the bed and disappeared too early for him to wake up and put the pieces together, and the lack of phone call, text, pigeon carrier confirmed your beliefs that it was a stupid, terrible mistake that cost the both of you a best friend.

You hadn’t seen him since that night either, only the occasional update on his Facebook or Instagram, but you knew he was looking good – better than you ever remember him looking, the professional training certainly doing excellent things for his physique. You’d never really processed that night with him, having never really looked at him like that, because he was just… Tyson. Not NHL player Tyson Jost, not playboy extraordinaire, just Tyson, your friend.

And that’s what he was when you sent him a text, the ‘would love to catch up over lunch!’ masking the apprehension in the thumb that hovered over the send button for longer than you’d care to admit. Was he still just Tyson? Had his years in the NHL, making millionaire money, traveling all across the globe changed him from that curly-headed little boy you’d met all those years ago? Did the night between the sheets, whispers of his name falling from your lips while his hands danced over your body, change who he was to you?

Tyson got the text as he was scrolling through Instagram, searching his recent following for some new Minnesota prospects, replacing the slew of Denver girls he could hit up when he needed a night horizontal. Blonde, brunette, redhead, curvy, thin, busty — he didn’t discriminate.

He was 3 months deep in a girl’s feed, a blonde with the middle name ‘Rose’, when his eyes flicked up to the top of his screen, blinking a moment to register the name he was no longer accustomed to seeing texts from. Immediately, he abandoned whatshername to read the message you’d sent him, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise at the lunch invitation.

Truthfully, he’d completely forgotten that you were in Minnesota — working in Minneapolis, if he remembered correctly from a Facebook post months ago. He was delighted to hear from you, pushing away the pang of guilt he always felt whenever you crossed his mind; he regretted the way that he’d let you slip away and out of his life. He hadn’t meant to; you were never meant to be the kind of friend that turned into a childhood best friend, but life had happened and before he knew it, that’s what you had become.

He’d be lying if he said that night didn’t still cross his mind, never speaking of it aloud. He remembered waking up alone, the faded smell of your perfume still lingering on the pillow beside him. No note, no text, no nothing — just gone, vanished from your life like it never happened. He assumed you’d left with regret in your heart, the forbidden act between two friends an invisible line crossed in thousands of ways, so he never reached out. Never called, never said anything, just letting the memory fade.

Setting up lunch was easy, a few friendly texts exchanged before deciding on a time and place. New to the city, he followed your suggestion and said he’d show up wherever you told him to. When the day came, you were almost embarrassed at the anxiety that bubbled inside of you, the kind of anticipation that made you change your shirt three separate times to make sure you exuded the right amount of not-trying-too-hard-but-still-cute-enough-that-you-know-I’ve-got-my-shit-together. Fortunately, Tyson’s easygoing nature made the initial greeting more natural than if you had led it, not knowing if a hug was inappropriate after all of the years of half-assed birthday texts and the unspoken elephant in the room. He’d scooped you up into his arms before you’d barely managed to get a “hey” out, and you immediately took comfort in his proximity.

The warm up was a bit uncomfortable, despite the all-too-easy softball questions that came with a reunion like this, the how have you been?s, how’s your mom?s, what are you doing for work now?s. Deep down, you both knew that you shouldn’t have to be answering these questions, that it felt counterintuitive with someone who once knew you inside and out. Still, you answered them in stride, giving him the updates he needed and easily making the transition to his very recent move to Minnesota and, simultaneously, his farewell to Denver.

When he told you about JT, you were surprised that there was no inkling of jealousy, rather, comfort knowing that he’d found someone else to take your place, to be that anchor for him in the new phase of his life — and certainly, you thought, someone that would never cross the physical line you had, betraying the friendship you’d built over many years in the course of one drunken night. It was not, and would never be, a competition, and you harbored no resentment at how things had turned out. You couldn’t help but wonder what JT was like — did he have the same sense of humor as you? What was their favorite thing to do together? Were you friends with the same Tyson?

With each laugh, each new quality revealed, you felt the invisible barrier between you breaking down slowly, still seeing flashes of the same Tyson you once confided in for everything, comforted to know that not everything had changed. All of it was surface conversation, though, and you both knew it. It was a strange feeling, to be sitting in front of someone so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time, like riding a bike and remembering how to steer, pedal, and balance all at once, before the muscle memory kicks in.

“D’you remember that time that you fell in the frozen pond by your house?” he asked, out of the blue, as you were taking a sip of your water.

Boom. There went the barrier, the remaining fragments tumbling down into a heap on the table, shattered in an instant.

“Oh my god, that was so terrifying!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at the memory. “I thought I was going to drown right then and there. It was so cold, and I freaked out. And then when we got back to my house and I was shivering and soaked, you told my mom —“

“—it’s all in the past, Miss Lynn!” he finished, causing you to double over, nodding as you laughed.

“To this day, whenever that comes up, my mom still says that you saved my life. You were the one who told me not to panic and to swim slowly,” you said once the giggles had subsided.

“Yeah, I never got a Boy Scout badge for that one,” he grinned.

The memories came out naturally, laughing jovially as you recalled each one with fondness and the fair share of giggles, the nostalgia what you needed to solidify the reconnection. Before you knew it, you realized you’d been there for three hours — five years of silence vanished just like that in the course of one afternoon.

“I’m really glad you called. It’s so good to see you, Kiwi,” he said as you stood in the parking lot beside your car, squeezing you tightly in his arms.

Kiwi. That silly little nickname he’d given you in elementary school because you’d worn a green shirt with brown pants. Somehow, it stuck, and you became Kiwi.

The flashes of the Tyson you knew were there, peeking through the private jets and flashing lights of his career that made him feel so distant, separating your lifestyles with an extra comma and several additional 0’s. As you drove home, his voice echoing in your mind, you asked yourself, were things similar enough? Even if he was the same Tyson, were you still the same Kiwi?

Part 2: The Rekindling

From the moment he got that text from you, Tyson swore all of his problems dissipated. It was cheesy and he hated it, but he had a literal pep in his step ever since he got back from lunch. He was playing more confidently, producing more than he had in Colorado, and while he knew that realistically, it was probably due in part to the change of scenery and the subconscious desire to prove himself, he couldn’t help but attribute it to you.

After that day at the cafe, he’d solidified a spot in your life, at the front of the table, almost like he’d never left, like he’d just been away at summer camp for a few weeks. You found yourself spending much of your free time with him, at his place or yours, or out showing him the Twin Cities like a proper tour guide. Despite the drastic changes in your lives, it was all too easy to fall back into your old routine, muscle memory kicking in after shaking the rust off and doing a few practice loops.

Things were different, though, slight shifts in the dynamic from all those years ago; it was only natural, given the growth you’d both gone through, physically, mentally, emotionally. You were older, more stable, and more mature. You noticed that he’d begun to fill the gaps in your life that would normally be filled by a romantic partner, if you’d had one — the go-to person to invite to the new restaurant you wanted to try, binge-watching your new favorite Netflix show, sending regular text updates about your day. Sure, you had other friends, and so did he, but it was clear from day 1 that you were each other’s first choice, maybe in more ways than one.

As the weeks turned into months, the regular season waning into the playoff preparations, you found yourself longing to be with him more, dreading the away games and extended time apart as he spent more time training, practicing, working out. You told yourself it was just that you’d spent so much time drifting apart and that it was refreshing, rejuvenating to have your closest friend back, a different kind of happy with him back in your life, not willing to even consider the other explanation.

The way he looked at you was different, too, though you did your best to ignore it. He was more affectionate, even cuddly, brushing your arm when he walked past, thigh bumping against yours when he sat next to you on the couch, arms squeezing you tighter when he hugged you goodbye — which was apparently something you did now, despite never having done it before. There was a light in his eye that you hadn’t noticed before, assuming it was a detail you’d forgotten about him in the years you’d grown apart, but it quickly became one of your favorite parts of him, the warmth in his smile and the affection in his eyes a place of comfort you’d missed out on.

And, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the benefit of his profession and his extra time in the gym — praising the warm weather, you looked forward to spending time outside with him, eyes running appreciatively over the cut of his arms and the stretch of fabric over his muscled chest. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, though you did your best to hide behind the shade of your sunglasses — except for the one time you’d walked into his apartment when he was in just a towel, and you’d both stuttered uncomfortably before he ran back into his room to change. (You’d dreamt about his toned six-pack and the drip of the water down his hardened chest for days after.)

He’d introduced you to some of his teammates, vaguely, never really giving you a label — just Y/N — but then, what was the label even supposed to be? Childhood best friend who I reconnected with and is now my best friend again? Former best friend who I drunkenly fucked one night and never spoke to again, but am now speaking to again?

Yeah, you thought, maybe it was best to avoid the labels for now. And maybe there was something more going on than just friendship. But that was another conversation for another time.

When the Wild were disappointingly eliminated from the playoffs, Tyson’s summer break began earlier than expected, and he was quick to invite you on a trip to Denver. He still had his brand deal with Coors Light, and they’d asked him to attend an Avs watch party at Coors Field. It worked out well, since he was already planning on going to cheer on the boys, his connection with the team never fading despite the disappointing departure a few months prior.

It was natural, just like old times; you’d brought the other to dances, proms, parties, when there was no romantic partner of the month. This was really no different, except for the fact that he was now a professional athlete paid millions to schmooze with the fans and stakeholders, the events much more lavish than a homecoming in your middle school gym. In the past, there had never been any question that it was never a date, but now, you weren’t so sure.

When you got to the hotel to check in, the front desk agent had blushed profusely when he gave his name, eyes looking a little too wide and lips a little too pouty for your liking. He’d smiled warmly while you bristled beside him, absolutely no reason to be feeling this contempt toward the kind woman who was simply doing her job.

She didn’t have to put her hand on his, though, when she’d paused her typing to say in a far-from-professional seductive tone, “You were my favorite Av.”

So maybe you felt a little surge of pride at the way her face fell, glossed lips breaking her smile, when she looked at the reservation. Her eyes flicked to you, having already dismissed you in favor of speaking only to Tyson, then turned her attention back to him.

“Mr. Jost, I’m sorry, but it looks like you only have one room on your reservation.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” he replied, and you felt the sinful pride welling up in your gut as she nodded curtly.

“I see,” she said curtly, eyes glancing back to you yet again, not doing much of anything to hide her own contempt. “Unfortunately, it looks like the double rooms are all booked up because of the Finals. All I have left is the king suite.”

You saw the flush on Tyson’s cheeks before feeling the heat rise oin your own, eyes snapping to his.

“Oh, uh —”

“Are you — ?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s fine —”

“I can take the couch,” you said, trying your hardest not to notice the way his cheeks had grown a really delightful shade of pink.

“I’d be happy to have the pullout couch arranged for you,” she offered, voice back to warm, clearly pleased that you were at least having some sort of conflict about sharing a bed, the glaring red alarm light above you signaling that you were not, as she had assumed, a girlfriend or romantic partner.

“No, Kiwi, I’m not letting you do that,” he said firmly, much to Front Desk Girl’s visible disappointment. “The King is fine. It’ll be just like our old sleepovers, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement, and Tyson turned back to the girl to complete the check in, her face back to a mild scowl. Glancing down to hide the smirk on your face, you bit back a comment that her makeup would be ruined at the rate her facial expressions switched from one to the other so rapidly.

Once she handed Tyson the keys, you offered a sweet smile before turning to follow him to the elevator, unable to prevent the satisfaction that settled over you. The room, of course, was wonderful, offering a beautiful view of the city and the snow-covered mountains in the distance, though the awkwardness had seeped in as soon as he’d unlocked the door, the large bed sitting very loudly in the center of the ornate room, a glaring beacon to your past.

You cleared your throat and brushed past it, shoving the discomfort to the side and ignoring it. If you didn’t think about it, it would go away, right?

Tyson’s eyes fell to your wrist as you accepted the extra room key from him, slipping it in the pocket of your purse. “What’s that?”

Smiling, you turned and offered your wrist, showing off your new — old — hardware: a braided bracelet, several shades of blue thread woven together in a simple pattern and tied neatly.

“Is that — ?”

“Yup,” you nodded, touching the bracelet unconsciously. “I meant to tell you that I found it in my closet the other day.”

“I can’t believe you still have it,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I made that for you… God, how long ago was that? It was at that one camp, and I think I was like, nine? Ten?”

“That was the worst summer of my life,” you sighed dramatically. “You were gone for so long and I had nothing to do except hang out with Lizzie Sherman.”

His eyebrows raised in understanding, placing his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry for putting you through that, Kiwi, truly. I solemnly swear that I will never do it again.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head before setting your bag on the luggage rack in the closet.

“You wanna get dinner? My favorite diner is just a few blocks down the street. They have the world’s best pancakes.”

“Tyson, it’s like, 8pm Minnesota time.”

“So? There is literally never a bad time for breakfast food.”

So, a few minutes later, you found yourself seated in an old school diner, straight out of any New York City movie. It was relatively quiet, only a few tables occupied when you arrived, and he’d told you it was Denver’s best kept secret.

“Whoa, now, look who the cat dragged in,” the waitress said as she approached the table. “Tyson Jost, in the flesh.”

“Hey, Carol, good to see you,” he greeted with a grin. She was older, old enough to be his mother, voice raspy no doubt from years of cigarette smoke, with a warm, welcoming smile, laugh lines etched into her face.

“What brings you back? Can’t be a coincidence that you’re here the day before Game 1.”

“Showing Y/N here around the old stomping grounds,” he explained with a gesture to you. “But you know I can’t miss the boys’ first game.”

“Knew you couldn’t stay away for too long,” she tutted, then turned to you. “This boy single handedly kept us in business during the pandemic.”

You laughed, “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. He’s been raving about this place for weeks.”

“Y’know I’ve got a soft spot for ya, Josty,” she winked.

“You’re always my favorite girl,” he replied flirtatiously, nudging your foot under the table as if to say, Nah, you know you are.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t think your girlfriend here appreciates that too much,” she said, and you felt that familiarly uncomfortable heat flood your cheeks at her comment. It was playful, harmless, but your eyes snapped to Tyson’s as he smiled and made the joke, “You always knew you weren’t the only girl for me.”

You tried to hide the way your eyes wanted to bulge out of your head at his words, innocent enough, but shocking nonetheless. Maybe it wasn’t worth correcting, an honest and casual mistake given the circumstances — but how could you just ignore the smile on his face as he said it? There was an ease of his voice, the pride in his body language, like he’d been saying it all his life.

Carol winked at you, lucky girl uttered in that matronly way, before pulling out her notepad and pen, the moment floating away in an instant. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Coffee, please,” he ordered. “We’ll split the pancakes. And, Carol, you’re the only one I trust to get this exactly right. We’ll also have a plate of hashbrowns, with one sunny side up egg on them.”

Carol nodded and you smiled at the gleam in his eye as he flashed you a grin. It had been a tradition when you were kids — to share a plate of pancakes, doused in maple syrup, along with hashbrown and egg yolks, after every sleepover. At one point, when Tyson hit puberty and began demolishing plates of food to keep up with his growing body, your dad and his mom began buying bags of frozen hashbrowns in bulk to keep up.

“Are you even allowed to eat pancakes and potatoes?” you asked, eyebrow raised, once Carol had turned to put your order in.

“We’ll count it as my cheat meal,” he shrugged. “This is more than worth it.”

Your heart warmed at the implication, and before you could comment, he was off, launched into a story about JT and the time their coach made them skate laps when he found out they’d competed — and won — in a pancake challenge at this very restaurant.

It wasn’t long before Carol was delivering your food to your table, balancing several plates expertly on her arms. The smell of freshly cooked pancakes and fried potatoes filled your nose, and Tyson thanked her before sending you a grin. “Smells like heaven, doesn’t it?”

“I never doubted your taste buds for a second.”

As you watched him ceremoniously crack the yellow yolk on the crisp hashbrowns, the liquid oozing over the potatoes, you thought to yourself how natural it all felt. Sitting here, with him, like no time had passed, like nothing had ever happened between you, just sitting and enjoying a plate of pancakes with your friend. It was so simple, so seamless, so easy with him, even amidst the road bumps.

If this was a movie, you thought, this would be the exact moment where the main character realizes she’s in love with him.

It had never really been a thought before, all of the comments from your families growing up about how you’d end up marrying one another shrugged off, laughed away with a teasing gross and a grin. But losing him, and having him come back to you, when both of you had least expected it — you couldn’t deny it certainly had fate written all over it, the serendipity of it all almost too strong to ignore.

And then there was the question — were you in love with him?

*****************

When you got back to the hotel after dinner — breakfast? — you both slipped into more comfortable clothes, and, when you couldn’t stop yawning, you knew it was time for bed. Tyson followed you into the spacious bathroom as you began to get ready for bed; he set his small travel bag for toiletries on the counter beside you while you were brushing your teeth.

“Hyaluronic acid? Seriously, Tys?” you asked, holding up the dropper bottle he’d set down.

“What? My skin is really dry, okay?” He snatched the bottle back, unscrewing it to drop some of the liquid on his hands before rubbing it into his skin. “The girl at Ulta told me I should buy it.” “Girls do like a man who has a skincare routine,” you mused.

“Thank you,” he said, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’ll have you know that I have excellent personal hygiene.”

Your eyebrows raised, biting back any snarky reply, choosing instead to nod sarcastically. “Uh huh.”

Soon enough, you were crawling into bed, the crisp white sheets rustling beneath your body. It wasn’t until you laid your head against the pillow that you realized Tyson would be joining you soon, right next to you, in the bed. The silent implications, unspoken words from years ago swirled in your head, and you did your best to push them away.

When he settled in under the sheets, you were grateful for the large bed, allowing you the extra space between your bodies, not even able to feel his body heat. The timidness had returned, plopping itself in the gap between you, and you swore you could feel a physical, but invisible barrier sharing the covers with you. It was fine, you told yourself, totally normal, not weird at all. Plenty of people shared beds with their friends on trips.

But not everyone had slept with that friend 5 years ago and never talked about it since.

“I’m not gonna bite, you know.”

Called out.

“I know,” you replied, doing your best to hide the nerves in your voice. “I just… don’t usually sleep in a bed with other people.”

“It’s just me. Just like old times, except now I have bulging muscles that you have to watch out for.”

You snorted, grateful for the way he was able to seamlessly ease the tension with his corny jokes, and you smiled when he nudged your leg with his knee.

“Goodnight, Tyson.”

“Goodnight, Kiwi.”

*****************

Fortunately, the awkwardness of waking up beside him was staved, for he’d woken up early to run in the hotel gym, allowing you time to shower and get ready for the day, thankful for the privacy. His ‘getting ready’ routine was short, and soon enough, you were taking coffees to go to the park after a quick breakfast. It was a beautiful day, and conversation was easy and casual as you strolled together, excitement buzzing in the air of the city in anticipation for game 1 of the Finals.

Lunch was one of his favorite sandwich shops, followed by some sightseeing — he was pleased to have swapped roles, being in the position of tour guide and leading you through the city that he knew like the back of his hand.

You returned back to the hotel to get ready for the event, and then the game. Tyson had already texted with JT and made arrangements to stop by after the game to say hello to the boys, and while you weren’t nervous, you did want to make a good first impression. It was a summer event, so you opted to wear your old Avalanche Jost jersey — bought in advance of the one game you’d attended five years ago — paired with shorts to help keep you cool in the warm Denver air.

Tyson, while he couldn’t directly wear an Avs logo, ensured that his flannel had navy and burgundy woven into the fabric as his subtle nod to his former team. You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail appreciatively over him, his gray t-shirt fitting him in all the right places, wild curls tamed neatly with some gel. He cleaned up nice, even when going to an event hosted by a beer company.

You slipped on your shoes, before smoothing out your jersey and grabbing your purse.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Tyson opened the door for you, then trailed behind you as you walked down the hall to the elevators. You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, almost enough to make you uncomfortable had it been anyone else.

“You look really… good,” he said. “That jersey looks really good on you.”

“You sound surprised.”

His eyes went wide, cheeks tinging pink as he stuttered, “No, I’m not – you just – I just – ah, shit –”

“Just fucking with you,” you grinned. “You look nice, too, Tys.”

His glare was adorably bashful, leading you to the elevator in order to meet your Uber driver in the lobby.

The event went smoothly, easy enough to stand beside Tyson while he cracked jokes and shared stories with the fans. It was fun to see him interacting with them, always so jovial and friendly despite being traded several months prior. That had always been something you’d loved about him; being able to strike up a conversation with anyone and end it as if he’d known them his whole life. Really, when you thought about it, it shouldn’t have been a surprise as to why you’d reconnected with him so easily.

Watching the game surrounded by fans was an equally thrilling experience, the cheers erupting with each hit, each save, each goal. Tyson was elated, and honestly, so were you, despite the fact that the only reason you’d had any loyalty to the team was the man standing beside you.

After the game, Tyson was buzzing, eager to meet up with the guys. He took you through a “secret” route to get into the arena while avoiding the mass hoards of cheering, hollering fans, elated by the overtime victory. He walked with familiarity through the doors, leading you through the halls outside of the locker rooms, waiting for his friends to emerge.

He’d begun to show you some of the pieces on the wall, explaining some of the history of the team as you saw the murals of Joe Sakic and Peter Forsberg lifting the Cup over their heads.

“God, you need a fuckin’ haircut, bud,” said a voice from behind you.

Your heart warmed as you saw Tyson’s eyes light up, grinning like a fool as he turned at the sound of the voice, as familiar to him as his own name.

“Looks like you lost your trimmers too, ya mountain man. Your playoff beard looks like shit,” he shot back with a smile, approaching his best friend, large arms engulfing the other in a hug. When he pulled away, he turned to you expectantly and set his hand on the back of your arm.

“JT, this is Y/N. Y/N, JT.”

You offered a smile, sticking out your hand and shrieking in surprise when the redhead pushed your hand away and moved in for a bear hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with this shithead,” he said, grinning.

“Someone’s got to, am I right?” you were quick to crack back, earning a laugh from JT. Tyson held his hands up, as if he was only then beginning to realize the consequences of having his two best friends here to roast him at the same time.

“Jost, you didn’t tell me you had pretty friends at home,” JT said smoothly, and your cheeks felt hot, not used to the public compliment. “Maybe I would’ve come visit sooner if I knew.”

Tyson gave him a shove. “She’s off limits, pal. Don’t even think about it.”

The redhead’s eyebrow raised, sending you a glance like he knew the internal conflict that was brewing inside you, could see the tension mounting between the two of you despite your best efforts to keep it under wraps. It was a bit unsettling, and you wanted to tell him that just because he was Tyson’s best friend didn’t mean that he could read your mind, too.

If he could, he didn’t say anything, smoothly changing the subject to ask about the flight and your activities in the city thus far. The conversation was easy, and you could certainly see how Tyson had fallen into him in your absence.

More and more of the guys began to pile out of the room, greeting Tyson with enthusiasm. Some of them greeted you cordially, and others followed JT’s path and simply scooped you up for a hug. Soon enough, the wives, girlfriends, and others flooded the hall until it was full of people, celebrating Avs getting one win closer to the Stanley Cup.

You found yourself chatting with two girls, one of whom was Mel Landeskog, and the other you hadn’t quite caught the name of or who she was with. Mel was warm, a greeting you like an old friend that she’d known for years.

“I’m so glad you were able to come out,” she said. “I know how much it means to the guys to have Tyson here.”

“It’s been so great to see the way the city’s welcomed him back,” you replied. “You can tell this really is home for him.”

Mel smiled, nodding with agreement, but was quickly called away by EJ asking her to wrangle in her husband. The dynamic shifted as you tried to make small talk with the other girl, offering a friendly smile that was half-assedly returned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Susie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Susie. I’m Y/N.”

“Are you Josty’s girlfriend?” she asked, the words so blunt you blinked in surprise.

Cheeks warming, you stuttered, “Oh, uh, no. Just a friend.”

Susie hummed, her eyes scanning over Tyson’s figure a few feet away. Part of you wanted to smack her to stop her from ogling him, but considering you were just a friend, you resisted the urge to start a fight.

“You just don’t look like his type, is all,” she said, glancing back. You felt your heart sink at her words, the silent implication all but screaming in your ears. She didn’t say it, didn’t have to, but you knew exactly what she meant: Not pretty enough to be his type, not skinny enough to be his type.

Offering another smile, you excused yourself to find a restroom. You walked away quickly, seeking either the bathroom or just privacy, whichever you could find first. Ducking behind a wall, you closed your eyes, tears hot as they brimmed above your lashes, blinking quickly to avoid letting them spill onto your face.

It was nothing new, nothing you hadn’t heard before, and you knew better than to put any stock in it, especially being around the crowd of pretty, but stereotypical, athlete girlfriends. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear, especially not when comparing you to Tyson — your Tyson. They didn’t understand, no one understood, the history and strength of your relationship, both before and after the unintentional hiatus. Everyone just assumed that Tyson — handsome, fit, rich — could never associate with a fat girl.

With a forlorn sigh, you heaved yourself up and began an actual search for a bathroom to pop into. A few winding corners later, you found one, locking the door behind you. You gathered a wad of toilet paper to dab at your eyes, careful to avoid smudging your mascara. As you exited the stall, your eyes dragged up to see themselves in the reflection of the mirror, unable to avoid the way they inevitably slid over your figure. The jersey, while covering your body, couldn’t hide the size of your arms, the width of your torso, the shape of your belly.

It had taken a long time, with many tears and countless hours of therapy, but you’d finally reached a point where you were happy, or at least content, with your body, no longer hating what you saw in the mirror. But the thoughts echoing in your head were far from kind, unable to prevent the comparisons and harmful words.

Summoning your therapist’s voice in your head, you allowed yourself a few moments to hype yourself back up, if only to gather the energy to return to the crowd of people outside. The weight in your throat dissipated, and you took another deep breath before stepping back out and finding the group again, Susie and everyone else clueless to your brief detour.

“Hey, you,” Tyson greeted, walking up to you and bumping your hips with his. “Was just looking for you. I think the guys are gonna go out for a celebratory drink — you wanna go?”

Hoping he couldn’t see the glassiness of your eyes, you glanced around before saying, “I think I’m just going to head in early.”

Tyson’s face fell. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, just tired from the travel. I’ll see you back at the hotel later.”

“I can come with you —“

“No, Tys, you should go celebrate with them. You deserve to,” you urged, smiling to show him you were okay.

He frowned, but nodded, quickly taking out his phone to order you an Uber back and ignoring your protests that you could, in fact, afford a ride back to the hotel.

*****************

Instead of going to your room, though, you found your feet walking toward the hotel bar, taking a seat on the plush barstool. Maybe it felt a little cliche, a little too ‘main character’ for your liking, but you thought you could use the liquid blanket to help you forget the way those words stung just a little too much.

“Give me something old,” you said when the bartender approached, setting a napkin in front of you. “And red.”

He nodded, and soon you were presented with a glass of Pinot Noir, a 1982 something-or-other. With a wry smile, you lifted the glass in a mock toast to him, pushing away the voice in your head that told you to savor the nice wine and taking a much larger than necessary gulp.

One glass turned into three, time blurred as the wine got sweeter with each sip. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you found yourself hurtling back to the present, conscious, with brown curls tickling your forehead. As reality trickled back into your hazy brain, you realized you were on your back in bed, having the life kissed out of you by your best friend. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten there, only focused on the way his hand felt against your breast, kneading it through the cotton of the t-shirt you were wearing — when did you change?

Tyson tasted like beer, his tongue pressed against yours in a familiar moment. His hands felt sinful, hot, dragging along your skin, drawing soft sighs from your throat.

“Tys,” you breathed, mouth hot against his, words unable to form past the sigh of his name. “Tys.”

He hummed, hearing you but not hearing you, mouth trailing back to your jaw. The work of his lips on your skin had your brain in a haze far more powerful than the wine, all coherent thoughts leading back to one thing: Tyson.

The smallest sober sliver of yourself that was left was screaming at you, fighting desperately against the drunk desire that was all too easy to give in to, to keep kissing him and feeling his heat against yours.

“Tys, stop,” you said again, sobriety flitting into your consciousness. “We can’t.”

Whether it was your words or your tone that reached his brain, you weren’t sure, but he ceased his mouth’s onslaught in an instant. You watched him blink, as if he, too, was flying back to reality, the lustful, drunken haze bursting above you. He pulled away, sitting back on his legs as he ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

The absence of his body caused you to shiver despite the heat of your skin. Your legs were still spread, wide, accompanying his form still sat between your thighs, and your cheeks burned from feeling so exposed. Dread filled your heart as you watched him slide off the bed, muttering an apology, head hung in shame while he shuffled to the couch.

Part of you wanted to call out to him, to apologize — for what exactly, you weren’t sure — but your brain finally spoke louder as you bit your tongue, letting it wait until morning, knowing the situation needed a sober mind. You listened to him shifting on the couch, tugging a spare blanket over him with a sigh.

It was thoughts of Tyson’s lips that filled your mind as you drifted off to sleep, finally succumbing to the haze the wine was calling you to.

Part 3: The Romance

The brightness of the sun stirred you from your sleep. Head pounding, you blinked a few times, the processing time it took to get your bearings extremely delayed, soaked with too much Pinot Noir and the subtle taste of Coors Light. Blurs of the night before flitted through your mind like a slideshow, flashing images of the hotel bar, of brown curls and stolen sighs.

Your legs stretched, and all at once you registered the large bed, the space beside you, and in an instant the feeling of Tyson’s lips on yours came rushing back to you. With a groan, you scrubbed your hand over your face, rolling to your side to heave yourself up.

Tyson sat on the loveseat, not looking much better than you felt, a disposable cup in his hand. He offered a solemn smile, then nodded to the coffee table in front of him, an additional cup waiting for you.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you replied, feeling extremely exposed in your t-shirt and sleep shorts. Your feet slid along the marble floor, cold against your skin, as you shuffled to your bag to tug on a sweatshirt. Though you blamed your slow movements on the ache of your head, you’d be lying if you weren’t doing everything you could to delay the impending conversation that lied ahead, daunting, intimidating, staring back at you on the other side of the room.

You made your way back to the couch, the space beside Tyson burning your skin as you sat down, maximizing the distance between you two as much as possible on the small sofa.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you broke the silence, shifting uncomfortably as you took a sip. “God, I feel like shit.”

Tyson let out a snort in agreement, handing you the small bottle of Advil from his bag.

“Yeah. I pay for it more now than I did back then,” he said, taking a slurp of his own. His eyes flicked to yours, the elephant in the room glaring, screeching loud, unavoidable no matter how much you’d rather curl back up in the king bed and bury your head under the duvet.

You met his eyes, painstaking, and you could see it in them, dying to come out into the world.

“Y/N, I —“

“Tyson, please don’t.”

“No, Y/N, we need to talk about this,” he started, slowly, firm but not cross.

Your eyes broke from his, unable to hold his gaze anymore, looking down at your lap. He was quiet, waiting for you to speak, to give him permission to continue.

“We were drunk, Tyson. Shit happens. We’ll shake it off,” you dismissed it, a weak attempt to make the discomfort vanish.

“That’s what I said five years ago, too,” he said, and your heart leapt into your throat at his words, eyes shooting to meet his. It was the first time either of you had acknowledged It out loud, to each other or to anyone else.

You swallowed thickly, taking a beat before responding. “It was a mistake, Tyson. You regret it, I regret it. It happened, and we moved on —”

“I don’t regret it.”

His words interrupted you, your eyes shooting up to him at his statement. settled in the silence, your eyes shooting up to him at his statement. He what?

Tyson paused for another moment. “Well, I didn’t.”

Oh. The words struck your heart, shattering it instantly, as if confirming what you both feared and knew to be true.

“No, wait, let me rephrase that,” he said quickly, realizing his mistake. “I don’t regret sleeping with you. I regret what happened after, and letting you walk away without talking to you about it.”

The words it’s too late, it doesn’t matter rang through your head, heavy on your tongue in a way that made you want to spit them out.

“I don’t regret it,” he repeated again, as if to solidify his feelings and make sure you understood. Then he asked in a timid voice, as if he was afraid to hear the answer, “Why do you regret it?”

“It’s not that easy of an answer.”

“It can’t be that complicated,” he shot back, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

“Tyson, I’m not –”

“You’re not what, Y/N?” he cut you off, eyes blazing with concern despite the frustration in his voice.

“I don’t belong here, Tyson.”

“What does that mean?”

“This,” you gestured to your surroundings, the expensive suite a contrast to your apartment and old sweatshirt that had brought you comfort since high school. “Here. With you. I don’t belong here. Not when I look like this.”

Tyson’s eyes fell, softening as each of your words struck him like broken glass. The words that his brain managed to conjure — none of them were enough, could ever be enough, to tell you how laughably and incredibly wrong you were.

“I regret it because guys like you don’t end up with girls like me.”

“That’s not true,” he finally said softly, kicking himself for not being able to come up with anything more eloquent.

“It is,” you replied. “You’re a professional athlete now, Tyson. You should be dating models, blonde size zero’s. Not me. Look at every single one of your teammates’ wives and girlfriends. None of them look like me.”

Tyson’s mouth opened, like he was ready to blurt out his next sentence, but paused, closing it.

‘It was fun, but really all sleeping with you did was show me a sliver of a life that I can’t have.”

“Y/N.” His voice was soft, trying to connect with you, to bring you back to the moment. Something about the way your name sounded coming out of his mouth made the burn in your throat even stronger, tears welling in your eyes as you blinked, looking away to avoid his sight.

“I liked you then, before any of that — any of this — mattered,” he began, hand running through his messy, untamed curls. “I know that doesn’t take away from any of the feelings that you’ve felt and the experiences that you’ve had, and I know that I will never be able to fully understand, but fuck, Y/N, I care about you so much, and I…”

His voice trailed off, eyes off in the distance like he was searching for the words. You watched him, waiting patiently for him to finish, trying your best to not prepare your response before he had even completed his thought.

“I know that I’m on the TV sometimes, and I make a lot of money, but that doesn’t mean that I’m different. Deep down, inside, away from the cameras and the crowd, I’m the same Tyson I always was, always have been. The same one who made you this bracelet at camp,” he said softly, reaching out to pull at the braided strings on your wrist. The touch tingled your skin, and you did your best to ignore it. “I’m still the guy who played with your Barbies and made them fall in love with Batman.”

Your lips curled into a small smile at the memory, and he matched it before continuing. “I just want – need you to know that I’ve never, ever been bothered by your size. I look at you and see you. My best friend. The girl who was there by my side for everything. No matter what number is on the scale, or what size jeans you wear, or what you decided to eat that day. Not then, not now.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, and you almost didn’t want to believe him, but for the deep sincerity in his voice and the honesty in his pleading eyes.

“You said that guys like me don’t end up with girls like you,” he said, reaching forward to tentatively take your hand in his. When you didn’t pull away, he gave you a squeeze that encouraged your eyes to flick up to his. “But there’s never been someone who’s so perfect for me.”

“Tyson…”

“Please let me finish,” was his response, and it wasn’t harsh, but gentle, more of a plea, like he would die if he couldn’t get the words out.

“I’ve felt this way forever, about you. I felt it that night, and the morning after, and every morning since. But I didn’t realize what it was until you came back into my life. And now that you’re here, I can’t let you leave again.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, barely processing the words coming out of his mouth before he was speaking again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The air in your throat felt tight, like you were suddenly engulfed in a tidal wave of emotion. Though you knew what he said, the weight of his words were still light, not sinking in, the true force of them waiting to crash onto you at any moment. He knew, understood without words, and took his hand back and sipped his coffee to allow you some space.

“Tyson, I —“ you began, then stopped, words once again failing you, only this time it was because of something else his lips were doing.

“You don’t have to say it back, now, or ever,” he said quickly. “I just… Needed you to know. I’ve always loved you.”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks when you blinked, sniffling as you looked up at him. It was, with no contest, the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to you. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised; you’d never felt as seen or as heard as you did with Tyson, even when you were doing your best to hide beneath the smile you offered to the world outside.

“The last few months with you have been… wonderful, and confusing,” you continued, throat constricted as you tried your best to quell the tears, tried to put your feelings into somewhat coherent words. “I’ve been spending this entire time trying to figure out what it is I’m feeling.”

He nodded, letting you know that he was following, his body completely engaged with you and your words.

“I think —I think that I might… feel… the same,” you picked your words carefully, that big, terrifying L-word far too heavy to throw out like that. “I’m still working that out for sure.”

Tyson smiled, pleased with even the possibility that you might love him too. His expression shifted as he swallowed, suddenly looking nervous.

“Could I kiss you?”

Your heart did a triple-axel backflip at the question, and you realized you were nodding as if he might never ask again, uncertain about the future but knowing in the moment that you desperately wanted his lips on yours.

They were warm, soft, just enough weight behind the kiss that you could feel his yearning without feeling forceful or aggressive. It was sweet, years of pining built up into one moment.

“I’ve always liked doing that.”

“Yeah? Is that why it’s happened twice now when you’re drunk?”

“You wanna see what happens when I’m not?”

With one sentence, the dynamic of the room shifted, suddenly feeling like it was at least ten degrees hotter. The implication of his words had warmth spreading through your body, the sweatshirt you had on quickly too much.

He was hesitant, though, waiting for your approval. Tyson felt your pause, and added, “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to fuck off. But, you know what they say, third time’s the charm.”

You smiled, appreciative of his humor as he grinned, clearly impressed with himself. In the back of your head, you heard a quiet voice mutter, Fuck around and find out.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredibly fucking sexy.”

Before you could think twice, you were lunging forward to throw your arms around him and kiss him. If he was taken aback, he recovered quickly, moving to wrap his arms around you as he kissed you back with enthusiasm. Your back hit the soft velvet of the sofa, giving him more leverage to kiss you harder, his tongue finding the seam of your mouth.

The irony of making out with him again, mere hours after your recent run-in, was not lost on you, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care. This time was different, sober consent all too clear, and you could feel everything.

The pile of clothes on the floor grew, cotton flung without a second thought as you undressed each other, slowly, carefully. Instinctively, you were tempted to cover your body with your arms, but Tyson had other plans, pulling your hands away from your stomach as he delivered kisses against your skin. You shivered at the feeling, his lips tracing constellations along your chest, over your belly, onto your hips.

“Fuckin’ love your hips,” he murmured, voice muffled by your skin, and you giggled at the way his low tone vibrated against you. His hands followed suit, slow and careful, like they were handling a priceless piece of art — and to him, they were.

Tyson’s mouth trailed over your waist, kissing and sucking marks on his journey between your thighs. His breath was hot against the cotton of your underwear, damp with anticipation as he glanced up at you, searching for any sign of protest. When he was met with none, he allowed his finger to drag up the seam, thumb rubbing gently over your clit through the material.

A moan escaped your lips, encouraging him to continue. He moved forward to kiss the fabric, inhaling your scent and letting out a groan.

“Please, Kiwi,” he murmured against your core. “Please let me eat you out. God, I’m begging you.”

His earnest desire had you nodding so fast you thought your head might fall off, butterflies erupting in your belly when his fingers dug into the waistband of your panties, tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. He didn’t give you any time to be shy, quickly pulling apart your legs to reveal your aching center, wet with need.

Licking his lips, Tyson hummed before pressing kisses against each of your inner thighs, tickling you slightly with the action, poor excuse for a playoff beard scratching the sensitive skin. He licked his way toward your lower lips, kissing them the way he’d kissed your mouth last night. Another deep groan left his throat when he tasted you, quick to delve his tongue inside of you.

Your hands flew to tangle themselves in his curls, his tongue working magic along your sodden slit, teasing you artfully. When his fingers joined his tongue, parting your folds and slipping into your heat, you let out a sigh of his name, pleasure hazing your vision and sending warm fuzzies to your belly.

“Jesus, you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he moaned against you, pumping his fingers slowly when he realized that doing so produced more of your juices, lapping it up like the syrup from the pancakes you’d eaten the day before.

You couldn’t even reply, words a distant memory with the way he worked his digits inside of you, finding the spot to make you see stars. He grinned against you when he hit it, feeling the way you tightened around his fingers, and set off on his mission to show you just how bad he wanted you. His tongue continued its assault on your clit, flicking and circling in perfect harmony with the movement of his fingers, steady and consistent.

“Tys —“

Your climax hit you suddenly, a long cry of his name called out into the room while your back arched, fingers tugging tightly onto his hair. Tyson was careful to continue his movements exactly the same to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, only stopping when your hand gently pushed his head away. Short puffs of breath left you, panting, and he was smug as he pulled away to grin at you.

“Was that good, or —?”

Resisting the urge to smack him upside the head, you pulled him up toward you to kiss him. He quickly forgot his snark, distracted by your lips and the way your hand was crawling its way between your bodies, palming the hardening bulge in his boxers.

“Fuck,” he choked out, twitching against your hand.

“Take me to bed, Tyson,” you instructed him, words breathed against his mouth softly, a prayer rather than a command.

He moved so quickly that you almost laughed, if not for the shriek that left you as he picked you up, bridal style, crossing the short distance back to the large bed.

“Shall we continue last night’s activities?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows as he laid you back onto the mattress, settling himself between your legs to kiss you again.

“Tys,” you said between kisses. “I wanted to —“

“I know, baby, but look at you. Fuck, I’ve gotta have you,” he interrupted. You could practically feel the desperation in his voice, and you certainly could feel his desperation between your thighs.

A shiver ran up your spine at his words, and you were rendered speechless when he reached his arms behind his head to tug his shirt off his shoulders, in that hot way that boys do. It was your turn to groan at the sight, his toned core muscles flexing in the morning light.

“You like what y’see?” he smirked. “Know you liked that preview that day at my apartment, huh?”

“Shut up,” you shot back, silencing him by reaching for his erection again, this time allowing your hand to slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping your fist around him. “You gonna take these off so you can use it, or what?”

Tyson couldn’t remove the offending garment fast enough, fumbling over himself to shove the boxers down his legs, tossing them behind him hurriedly. It was your turn to smirk, admiring the sight of him completely nude in front of you as you leaned forward to stroke him. You watched goosebumps rise on his arms as you pressed your lips to the head of his dick, breath hot on the sensitive flesh.

“Kiwi —”

“Just a taste,” you pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes, lips puckered against his leaking tip.

He let out a strangled groan, along with a string of curse words, which was all you needed as permission to take him into your mouth. You let your tongue swirl along his length, tasting him, savoring the weight of him and the saltiness of his precum.

Head bobbing, your mouth moved up and down, lips wrapped around the girth of him. With a glance up, you saw his eyes squeezed shut, lip tugged between his teeth as he indulged in the feeling of your hot mouth.

You made it a competition with yourself, see how many delicious moans and groans you could pull from his lips with the work of your own, as you let your mouth learn each inch of him, skin soft on your tongue. Bringing your hand up to the base, you gripped tightly and stroked him, working conjointly with your mouth.

“Baby, baby, you gotta — fuck, Kiwi, you gotta stop,” he panted, hand moving to your jaw to pull you off of him. “M’not gonna last if you keep — fuck.”

You smiled, pleased with your ability to render him a stuttering fool, though it quickly faltered when he gently pressed you onto your back. He kissed you again, stealing the breath from your lungs, as his hand cupped your jaw, slowing the moment down again. His cock bobbed between your thighs, wet with your saliva and bumping against the slickness of your folds, and you whined at the feeling.

When he tore himself away from you, running to retrieve a condom from his bag, you raised an eyebrow at him as he climbed back onto the bed. “You came prepared, huh?”

“What? No! No — I mean, I hoped, maybe… I thought, just in case—“ he stuttered, bashfully looking at you as his cheeks flushed.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle, letting him know you weren’t upset with a nudge against his thigh with your knee. He looked relieved, then remembered he was supposed to be doing something with the foil packet in his hand, ripping it open and working the latex over his aching cock.

He shifted, positioning himself at your opening, then paused to look at you, eyes connecting with yours in a glance, wordless yet saying everything he needed to say. You nodded, a soft please dying on your lips when he let the tip bump against your clit.

Slowly, Tyson pushed into you, taking his time and savoring the way you gripped him, pulling him in in more ways than one. His arms landed on either side of your head, and he pressed his forehead against you as he allowed you both a moment to adjust to the sensation, simply content to just be connected.

Tyson’s hand moved to yours, entwining your fingers together as he began to move, your legs finding their place wrapped around his hips as he pushed into you. He pressed kisses against your lips and on your cheeks, showering you with affection as he took his time to find his rhythm.

He remained slow and steady, keeping his thrusts firm and forceful, allowing you to feel each inch of him as he moved inside you. You could feel his hot breath against your face, whispering declarations of love against your skin.

Tyson poured every emotion from the last five years into you, kissing away all of the unspoken words and forgotten memories, vanished with each pump of his hips. This wasn’t a mistake, though, if you thought about it, neither of the past times had been a mistake, either.

It didn’t take long for your high to build, cresting with a cry of his name. He wasn’t far behind you, eyes holding with yours as he, too, reached his peak with a Kiwi whispered against your lips. When his hips stilled against you, he stayed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being so connected with you, body and soul.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face, even when he pulled out with a sigh, tying off the condom and tossing it in the direction of the bathroom. He couldn’t bother to stand up, not willing to be parted with you for a second, instead pulling you into his arms as he caught his breath.

“You’re telling me that’s what we’ve been missing out on this whole time?”

With a snort, you said, “You kind of lived across the country until just now, Tys.”

“Still,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulders, “I’m kinda pissed it took us this long.”

You hummed, silently agreeing with him. Now that you’d taken the plunge, you couldn’t remember what you were so hesitant for in the first place, life before today a distant memory.

“Will you go on a date with me? A real one, with dinner and flowers, when we get home?”

“It’s a little late for that,” you laughed, gesturing to the flimsy sheet covering your naked body.

“I guess we’ve done everything out of order,” he chuckled, “but first dates are important.”

“Okay,” you smiled and nodded. “A date. Pick me up at 6. And you better hold the door open for me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A comfortable silence fell over you as you enjoyed the peace of the moment, cuddled into his body and in the warmth of his strong arms. You listened to the steady beat of his heart while his fingers drew lazy circles into your shoulder blade, content to never leave the bed for the rest of your life.

“Tyson?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

He broke into a grin, looking down at you to see it in your eyes before he leaned forward to kiss you. You kissed back, pouring all of the love that had been bottled up in your heart for him over the last two decades into him, hoping he knew.

By the look on his face when he pulled away, he did.

“So I guess the third time is the charm, then, huh?”

#tyson jost fic #tyson jost fanfic #tyson jost smut #tyson jost x y/n #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #t. jost #hockey romance #hockey smut

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ayameric · 2 years

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YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.

Summary: Being the manager of 'The Badlands' was a job Wanda enjoyed, but not so much when the lead singer made her life difficult.

A/N: So, I've kinda been MIA. I had huge issues with my account a few weeks back, and between work and problems with my own health, writing has been a little hard. However, here is some pretty shitty writing to keep you all fed!

TW: ILLNESS (Please let me know if there’s any I should add)

Songs used - Arctic Monkeys

Main Masterlist

‘Peaceful’ and ‘relaxing’ weren’t words that came to mind when Wanda heard the name Y/N L/N. In fact, the name boiled her blood.

Managing the The Badlands was a dream come true for Wanda. Travelling the world, listening to amazing music and meeting incredible music. But what she hadn’t taken into account, was the bands frontwoman, being a total fucking nightmare.

Truth be told, you didn’t set out to make Wanda’s life harder, but you just couldn’t seem to keep your nose clean. Literally, sometimes.

PR scandal after PR scandal had left Wanda with more stress than she knew what to do with. She could only wish you would hit your head one day and wake up with a brain. But unfortunately, she was shit out of luck.

“L/N!” Uh oh.

You scrambled to sit upright from your position on the tour bus’s couch, watching as the redheaded wrath stormed into the vehicle, a death-glare sent your way.

You heard your bandmates giggle, Kate, your bassist, and Yelena, your drummer, happily await the chewing out you were about to receive. To be fair, you didn’t know what you had done this time, so prepping for an apology was futile.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” You smiled at her, trying to flash her that million-dollar smile of yours in hopes of some mercy. No luck.

“Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old.” Wanda grumbled, folding her arms as she stood in front of you. “What the hell is this?!”

She shoved her phone in your face, showing you a twitter article. Badlands’ Lead Singer Y/N L/N caught in yet another bar brawl!

Ah, that definitely jogged some memories.

“I can explain-“ You tried, but Wanda just shoved her phone back in her jean pocket, rubbing her temples.

“-You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” Wanda yelled. “You are on thin fucking ice, L/N! I mean it!”

And with that, your manager was gone.

You still thought she was really pretty, even when she was screaming at you. You just sighed, slumping back into the couch, whilst Kate and Yelena looked at you with pity.

“Dude, why didn’t you just tell her?” Kate asked, leaning forward and clasping her hands together.

“Did you not hear the woman? Wanda looked ready to kill me!” You exclaimed, before putting your head in your hands.

“Still, it might’ve helped to tell her why you got into that fight.” Yelena prompted, but you shook your head, before looking up.

“Either way, I should never have hit that guy. I just made things more difficult for her.” You told them, sighing before getting up to walk away.

“When did you suddenly grow a heart? You didn’t give a shit about our last manager, you practically sent him grey.” The drummer attempted to joke, but you just rolled your eyes. You decided to head out of the bus and try to find Wanda, to apologise.

You twisted the rings on your fingers as you looked around for her, heading inside the venue you guys would be playing at that night, assuming she was in there helping with setup.

“Have you seen Wanda around?” You asked a random stage-tech, who pulled a face of confusion at you. “Short angry redhead.” You deadpanned, and he immediately understood, and pointed towards the back of the stage.

You thanked him quickly and began jogging around frantically to find her, catching her conversing with one of the staff that worked in the venue. She finished her conversation and caught you out of the corner of her eye, her face immediately dropping.

That stung your heart a little bit.

“Wanda?” You called out, stepping towards her cautiously.

“What?” The woman snapped back, clearly not wanting to hear whatever you had to say. But since she was your manager, she was obligated to.

“Look…” Your eyes darted around the room as you noticed there was no one around. “-I’m really sorry, I- I wasn’t thinking.”

Wanda huffed.

“No, you weren’t. That’s the problem, you never think.” She scolded, and despite being considerably taller than her, you never felt so small.

You scratched at the back of your neck nervously, unintentionally lifting your Metallica band tee as you did so. As you did so, you could’ve sworn you caught Wanda’s eyes drop down to the slight bit of tone skin that was revealed.

“I… It was out of order, but-“ You were finally going to tell her, but someone calling her name over from the other side of the stage took her attention.

“Look, I need to go. Just please, stay out of trouble for today? Please?” She pleaded with you, but it wasn’t a genuine ask, she was still scolding you like a child.

You deserved it, really.

“Yeah, okay.” You mumbled, but she was already walking off. Shit, well, that could’ve gone better. But as far as most of your interactions go, that certainly wasn’t the worst.

You opted to head back to bus and get your things and find your dressing room to get ready for the show.

‘The Badlands’ had been on tour now for just under two months, and the last few dates were rapidly approaching. Currently, you were in Miami, then you would be heading to Pennsylvania, and lastly, New York.

It was bittersweet, but you were certainly looking forward to the time off. It would give you time to write new stuff, see your family, go on vacation. As much as you loved Kate and Yelena, and you did, you needed a break.

Song writing wasn’t something you needed time off for, however. In fact, as of late, you had been really inspired to write. You figured it was to do with your growing feelings for Wanda, despite the fact she hated your guts, she had become your muse.

Some time before your show tonight, after you had gotten dressed in some skin tight black jeans, and a loose fitting band shirt, with the sleeves cut off at your shoulders along with some black converse, you had decided to scribble down some lyrics in your notebook.

This scrappy little notebook you carried with you practically everywhere, and it was strictly off-limits to everyone, including your bandmates.

Inside this book, were past Grammy award-winning songs, and hopefully, some future award winners too. Most of your latest stuff were all works in progress, losing inspiration just as you got close to finishing it.

It sucked, feeling like there was something missing, something that hadn’t clicked.

You had your hopes up for this new piece that you were writing, lyrics just flowing from the tip of your pen. Humming a tune, you noted the melody beside the words.

A harsh knocking on your door nearly knocked you from your chair, however.

“We’re on in five, Y/N!” Kate called, and you nodded, getting up and dusting yourself off to look moderately presentable. Even though your aesthetic was something of a rockstar, you still weren’t going to walk out there with mustard stains on your pants.

You could hear the booming of the crowd, and the music of your warm-up act, shaking the nerves out of you as you walked to the side of the stage.

“Y’ready?” Yelena slapped you on the back a little too hard, making you flinch.

“Have you seen Wanda?” You scanned around, but Yelena just chuckled whilst shaking her head.

“Naw, she’s here somewhere though. Why? Want a good luck kiss?” The woman teased, and you just pushed her as Kate walked over.

The lights went low, and you took that as your cue to walk on with fog that would conceal your entrance.

Just like you’ve done a hundred times.

You all got in position, Yelena on drums, Kate and you picking up your guitars.

The lights lit up, and the mist cleared, revealing the three of you and setting the crowd off into a roar of cheers.

“How we feelin’, Miami?!” You yelled as you grabbed the mic, your guitar swinging around your side as the strap clung to your shoulder.

More cheers came from the crowd, and you laughed.

“We’re gonna start things off tonight with one of our favourites, I’m sure you know it!” You announced, and Kate immediately started off the riff to your song ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’.

‘Stop making the eyes at me,

I’ll stop making the eyes at you,

What surprises me is that I don’t really want you to’

You began strumming on your guitar, looking down and catching sight of the young women in the front row, screaming and reaching out for you.

‘And your shoulders are frozen (cold as the night)

Oh, but you’re an explosion (you’re dynamite)

Your name isn’t Rio, but I don’t care for sand,

And lighting the fuse might result in a bang, b-b-bang- oh!’

Kate sang the back up lines, whilst you continued to the chorus, where the crowd joined in loud.

‘I bet that you look good on the dancefloor,

I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or

I don’t know what you’re looking for.’

‘I said, I bet that you look good on the dancefloor,

Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984,

Well, from 1984!’

You continued riffing out on your guitar, really giving it the theatrics. You finished the first song, and carried on through the set list. It was going well, as it often did.

During a small break in between songs, you grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over yourself, getting your shirt wet in the process, sending the crowd (especially the females) into overdrive.

Briefly, your eyes shot over to the side of the stage, where you found Wanda. But her eyes were glued to her phone, typing away, and you suddenly felt a little disheartened she wasn’t watching you.

The night drew to a close with your final song, and you bid the crowd goodnight. All of you walked off stage, high-fiving and still riding on the high of performing. Some VIP fans were waiting for you, which would usually be exciting if some of them were hot, but you were feeling a little gloomy as of late.

With your acknowledgement of your feelings for Wanda as of late, and sleeping with random strangers just wasn’t cutting it for you anymore. But expressing how you feel to a woman that hates your guts was easier said than done.

“You coming, L/N?” Kate asked, practically being jumped by one of the girls waiting for you all, but you shook your head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Maybe liquor would help fix your feelings.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

Here you were, in some random club, leaning against the bar as you watched your bandmates have fun. But what was more infuriating was watching some random douchebag get a little too close to Wanda.

Her hands on his chest.

That smile on her face.

You don’t think you’ve ever made her smile.

Knocking back your drink, you turned around and slammed the glass on the bar, calling out for another. You couldn’t watch.

For a rockstar that could have any girl she wanted, the one she actually wanted was the one she couldn’t have.

But as you waited, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, and your interest peaked at who could be calling this late.

You looked at the caller ID, and immediately went to step outside to answer it.

Unbeknowst to you, Wanda had seen you head out.

“Oh, give me just a second.” She excused the guy she was talking to, a lovely English man named Jarvis.

“Of course.” He smiled, to which she mirrored, before making her way through the crowd to keep you out of trouble. Wanda didn’t trust you, so if she was going to have to babysit you the whole night, then so be it. It was only at the expense of her own happiness.

“Hey, Maya.” You answered down the phone, a weak smile appearing on your face. “What’re you doing up this late?”

“I wanted to talk to you!”

“Hmm, I guess it’s okay then. Does mama know you’re on the phone?” You asked, her voice warming your heart.

“Mhmm, she let me call you, when are you coming home, Y/N/N?”

“A couple more weeks, bub. I promise. How are you feeling?” You asked, and your voice began to shake at the end.

“A little sick today. But the doctor says I’m making a big improvement!”

You tried hard to not let the tears pool in your eyes, quickly wiping them away with the back of your tattooed hand.

“That’s great, kiddo! I can’t wait to come see you soon.” You said sincerely, and you heard her giggle down the other end. “You should head to bed though, it’s late.”

“Okay. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.” You said, as she passed the phone back to your mom. “Hey, ma.”

“Hey. How’s everything?” She asked, and you sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing a leg over the other.

“Alright, just, weird feelings at the moment.” You admitted, looking at the cuticles of your nails.

“What’s up?” She tried, but you didn’t feel like getting into that all now.

“Ah, it’s nothing-“ You told her, but you heard the club door swing open and see Wanda storming out, clearly looking for you. “-Shit, I gotta go Ma, talk to you later.”

You ended the phone call and sniffled, wiping away a final stray tear as Wanda finally lay eyes on you.

“What’re you doing out here?” Your manager asked, clearly expecting you to have found your way into some trouble.

“Nothing.” You dropped your gaze the ground. You didn’t say anything to Wanda because you figured it was better to be quiet, since anytime you spoke you pissed her off.

Wanda didn’t answer you, but crossed her arms as she studied your face, noting your teary eyes.

“Is everything okay?” She asked this time, her voice a lot softer.

“Yeah, yeah.” You brushed her off. “-I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel for the night. I don’t feel great.” You lied, but Wanda seemed surprised.

“O-okay, I’ll let the girls know.” She offered, and you just nodded. “Goodnight Wanda.”

But Wanda didn’t get a chance to respond, since you had already walked past her, back in the direction of the hotel.

Wanda knew something was wrong, you were never one to leave a party early. In the last year she had been managing the band, you were a wild child. So this was totally out of character.

Her stomach settled uncomfortably, twisting in a way she had never experienced before. Sure, she worried about you, but that was usually only for the sake of the band and her job. No, this time, it felt different.

She was worried about you.

You had gotten back to the hotel, and you knew you weren’t getting any sleep.

Talking to your sister was a relief, but it also brought up a lot of emotion. It was hard to be away from her for so long, but this tour meant you could send money home to your family.

Sacrifices had to be made, and you’d do anything to make sure your family was okay.

Regardless of your brutish manner, throwing caution to the wind, acting a fool, you still had a heart, and a lot of love to give.

You lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You lay in only your jeans and some boxers, the band sticking out the top, and a sports bra.

Trying not to dwell, you let your mind wander, and of course, it stumbled upon Wanda.

Thinking about the look in her eyes from earlier, you think that might’ve been the softest she had been with you in a long time, since you first met.

That was your own fault, though. If you hadn’t caused her so much trouble, she probably would’ve like you a lot more. But if she only knew.

With your mind on your muse, you grabbed your notebook and looked at what you had written earlier before your show.

I’m a puppet on string,

Tracy Island, time-travellin’ diamond cutter-shaped heartaches,

Come to find you four in some velvet mornin’ years too late.’

You wondered what it would be like if you had met Wanda before you were a jerk, before all this. If you were a different person. A dozen ‘what-if’s?’ bounced around your head, but you weren’t in a song-writing mood right now.

In fact, grabbed the page of the work in progress you had started and ripped it out. You had begun to accept that Wanda just didn’t like you, sometimes things just end up that way. But it would be a little harder to accept.

Hoping to take your mind off it, you stuck Netflix on your laptop and hoped to drown out your sorrows with some cheap sitcoms.

The road trip to Pennsylvania was unexpectedly quiet on your end, which everyone noticed straight away. Even the goddamn bus driver.

Wanda occasionally looked up from her phone, noting that you had opted to stay in your bunk and blast music through your headphones. You were usually up, playing video games with Kate or watching something with Yelena, but nothing.

Something was definitely wrong, but as long as you still performed at the end of the night, Wanda didn’t care.

At least that’s what she told herself.

“Have either of you spoken to Y/N this morning?” The manager asked, and both girls shook their head.

“Naw, we saw her leave yesterday and figured you’d yelled at her again.” Yelena shrugged, and Wanda was took aback.

“I- I don’t yell at her.” She defended, sounding accused.

Kate and Yelena just grinned, sharing each other a brief look.

“Yeah, you do.” They both said in sync.

Wanda’s jaw fell agape. Okay, maybe she did yell at you a lot. But with good reason! You constantly acted up and made her job ten times harder.

“Yeah well, if she behaved herself, maybe we wouldn’t have a problem.” Wanda gritted her teeth but worry still lined her stomach.

Neither Kate nor Yelena spoke for a moment, their faces falling to something more serious.

“Wanda, our dear manager. Do you know why Y/N acts up?” Kate raised a brow, and Wanda furrowed hers.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be yelling at her all the time.” She deadpanned, and Yelena just shook her head whilst her best friend continued.

“Christ, you two are unbearable.” Kate muttered. “You. You’re the reason she acts up.”

Wanda had truly never been more confused in her life.

“You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.”

“That fight, in Texas?” Kate questioned, and Wanda nodded. “Some jackass was talking about you, real gross. Asking Y/N to put in a good word for you, so she knocked him on his ass.”

Wanda’s heart got caught in her mouth.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Lena- I can’t.” Kate whined, putting her head in her hands.

“What Kate is trying to say is- Y/N likes you, and she was just protecting your honour.” Yelena explained. “And all those other times too, it was either that or she was trying to get your attention.”

Wanda was truly dumbfounded, lost for words.

Her eyes trailed over to your bunk, that was covered by a curtain, and her heart strained a little.

There was that fluttering feeling again.

Shit.

She had experienced that feeling quite frequently whenever you two spoke, but she had always assumed it was anger. No, no it was clear now it was definitely the opposite.

That stupid grin of yours. The tattoos that covered your body like art. Your actual body, toned and sculpted. You always wore those stupid band tees with the sleeves cut, leaving little to Wanda’s imagination.

The feeling had always been there, she had either just ignored it or mislabelled it.

At your shows, she kept her head in her phone to avoid looking at the way you moved when you sang and played guitar. Those seductive looks you threw into the crowd. Sure, Wanda had always found you attractive, that was never up for debate, but she never thought she would be attracted to you.

You were an asshole, a troublemaker.

But it was apparent that was all for her. For her attention.

It worked, maybe not in the way you had liked. But it worked. Now Wanda knew.

Kate and Yelena dissolved into a conversation of their own, not that Wanda was listening. Her mind was in a tizzy, trying to resolve her feelings. It was incredibly confusing.

This wasn’t out of the blue, but in the same way it was.

The show in Pennsylvania went well, leaving the last Badlands show in New York. You went on stage, did your thing, and disappeared back into the hotel without another word.

Nobody knew what was going on, and this was so out of character for you that no-one really knew how to deal with it.

But something was going to have to change before it affected your performance.

Wanda pushed away what Yelena and Kate had told her the other day, more focused on finding out what was going on with you recently.

She found your hotel room, and knocked harshly so that you would hear.

After a few seconds, she heard the thudding of your feet get closer before the door creaked open.

“I haven’t done anything.” You sighed, not wearing your usual grin and Wanda’s fears that something was wrong were confirmed.

“I’m not here to yell at you.” Wanda said back, trying to keep her tone a little lighter than usual.

You didn’t say anything, only shifted your weight between your feet as you put your arm against the door, showing off your bicep that Wanda couldn’t help but notice.

Not the time.

“What?” You asked impatiently.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant over the past few days.” Wanda folded her arms.

“Why do you care?” Narrowed eyes pointed her way, and this was a tone you had never taken with her before, she certainly didn’t appreciate it.

“Because it’s my job to.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, before trying to close the door and walk away. But Wanda caught the door with her foot, and followed you into your room as you sat on the end of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s your job to care, but that’s all it is.” You stated. “You only care because it’s your job. You don’t like me, I get it. After New York, you’ll barely have to see me. So don’t worry about it.”

That sentence hurt both of you.

Wanda took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tension in the air.

“That night, outside the club after the show in Miami. What happened?” Wanda asked, but you seemed reluctant. “I swear to God, Y/N.”

“Fine! Jesus Christ!” You snapped, sighing. “Fuck, okay… My sister called.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Wanda said, her tone a lot more quiet.

“Yeah well, we aren’t friends like that I guess.” You stated. “Maya, she… she’s my little sister. Half-sister. She’s only nine, and…”

There were the tears in your eyes again, and Wanda’s heart wrenched at what you said next.

“She has leukaemia. Has for the past two years, and I don’t see her that often so it’s tough. I miss her a lot, and I’m afraid something will happen when I’m not there. But I have to be out to pay for her treatment, because unfortunately, we live in the shithole that is America.” You ranted, sniffling as you did so.

“Y/N, I- I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” Wanda’s voice broke, but you shook your head, blinking away your tears.

“It’s fine. But, it’s just hard to be away from her. Doctor’s say she’s getting better, but…” You trailed off, but Wanda knew what you were putting out there.

You didn’t speak again, and Wanda made the bold decision to sit beside you on the bed.

The close proximity to her set your nerves alight. You looked up, into her eyes, and this was the first time you had ever been this close, and it made you feel fuzzy.

“And then there’s you.” You finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“W-what?” It was Wanda’s turn to stumble now.

“You. You drive me fucking crazy!” You raised your voice, standing up abruptly. “Do you know why I do the things I do? Act the way I do?”

Wanda gulped, and nodded.

“Kate and Yelena told me.” She admitted, and you just rubbed your face with your hands.

“Shitheads.” You grumbled. “L-look, I like you Wanda. I really, really do. A-and I don’t try to make your life difficult, I just- I don’t know how to express the way I feel like a normal person. The only way I emote is through my music, and-“

Wanda cut you off as she shot up and grabbed the sides of your cheeks with her hands and pulled you into a kiss. It took you off guard at first, but you melted into it, your hands finding Wanda’s waist.

The only noise in the room now was the sounds of your lips breaking apart for the occasional breath, before you nipped at her lower lip in an attempt at a silent ask for permission. Wanda granted you entrance, and your tongues slid together as she moaned into your mouth.

You finally broke away for a breath of air, and Wanda just stared up at you in awe.

“I’m sorry for being so hard on you.” She said sadly, but you shook your head.

“It’s not your fault, if I had just known how to talk to you, none of this would ever have happened.” You told her, and she just offered you a tight-lipped smile. “It’s just that every time we would go out to a club or celebrate, some guy would find his way over to you and it threw me off.”

“Well, it’s just you and me, so. Tell me, Y/N, how do you feel?” Wanda asked, somewhat teasingly, and you just let go of her waist and reached into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.

“I wrote something, well, started to. I wrote it for you.” You admitted, unravelling the paper, and Wanda looked shocked.

“You… you wrote a song for me?” She whispered, and you nodded. Wanda’s own eyes were beginning to line with tears after an already emotional evening.

“It’s not done, and I was hoping to get it finished by the time we got back to New York so that we could go to the studio and record it. Maybe play it in the last show of the tour.” You shrugged, and Wanda nodded.

“That sounds good.” She smiled, and you did too, leaning into to kiss her one more time. “Do I get to read it?”

You shook your head.

“Not till it’s done.”

“You ready, Lena?” You asked from the mic, and the drummer nodded. You gave a thumbs up to the producer on the other side of the glass to your recording booth.

You also caught the sweet smile Wanda sent your way.

“Aye, Mike?” You asked, and the producer looked up from his soundboard. “Make Wanda wait outside.”

Wanda frowned now, but you told her she wasn’t allowed to hear it until it was done.

Your manager did as she was told, and went out, allowing you to record your latest piece. Yelena and Kate loved it, even more so after you told them what happened between you and Wanda that other night.

Recording took less than an hour, quicker than any of your other songs. You knew it was special that way.

“You guys good to play that tonight?” You asked, slipping off your headphones as Mike got to work producing.

“Fuck yeah!” Yelena roared, and you laughed at her reaction.

That night, the last show of your tour, you had anticipated nerves, but not like this. Probably due to the fact that you were performing a song for the first time that revealed your feelings about Wanda to a crowd of thousands of people.

But this was what you wanted.

You wanted her. And you wanted her to hear it.

Following the usual routine, you headed out on stage and the reveal sent the crowd wild.

“Hello New York! It’s good to be home!” You yelled into the mic, smiling widely, and genuinely for the first time a while. “Let’s get this shit kicked off with a little 505!”

The crowd screamed, and lights dimmed as you played the slightly calmer song. But the set list continued through the night, upping the ante and the energy.

When you looked over to the side of the stage, Wanda wasn’t buried in her phone, she was looking at you, a smile on her face, and it sent you to cloud nine.

You finished your last song, and now came the surprise.

“Now, dearest fans, we have a surprise for you.” You admitted, and it captivated their attention. “We have one more song for you, and it’s a special one, because this is the first time anyone has heard it.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and the band laughed at their reaction, but you only cast a glance at Wanda, who was basically giddy with excitement.

“It’s called R U Mine? And we hope you enjoy.” The lights strobed, and Kate played the first note, and you began.

‘I'm a puppet on a string Tracy Island, time-travelin' diamond cutter-shaped heartaches Come to find you four in some velvet mornin' years too late She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space In my mind, when she's not right there beside me’

You got into it, really giving it your all, but it didn’t go unnoticed that when you weren’t lost in the music, your eyes were on Wanda.

‘I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be And satisfaction feels like a distant memory And I can't help myself All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?" Well, are you mine? Are you mine? Are you mine? Oh, ah’

You played the song through, and bid goodnight to your home city, before dashing off to the side to see your favourite manager, who immediately looped her arms around your neck.

“So, what did ya think?” You asked, but you got your answer in the form of a deeply passionate kiss.

“I loved it.”

You couldn’t help but smirk.

“Good, because that kind of answers my question.”

“And what was that?” Wanda asked curiously, still grinning.

“Will you be mine?”

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