#I need a list to track all these names damn

[serialkilluh1996]

✆𝐌𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐑✆

Older-Crush-König x Younger-female-reader pt.1

You have an unhealthy infatuation with König. But where there is obsession, there are dilemmas. He's 35, you're 21. He's your colonel, you're just an assistant. But most importantly, he can't fucking stand you.

Warnings: reader has specifically the personality i wrote, use of ☆☆☆ in place of reader's name, age gap (14 years), König is kinda of an ass, contact me if I need to add more.

Proshippers, Comshippers DNI

¹ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ➛

It's been almost a year since you fell in love with this man.

You were 20, looking for a reasonably paying job to live a reasonably affordable life, and Kortac had just the position.

A base level assistant. All you had to do was make sure everyone was in check, keep track of everyone's time sheets, and make sure all important files, including inventory, were safely stowed away in your computer supplied by the company. Who could turn down such an easy job? You didn't even have to do any field work.

Your life was going pretty damn smooth, if it wasn't for him. Him being König, your colonel and angel. He's a gorgeous man. Bright blue eyes, a firm muscular body, imposing height, his flattering accent. You were instantly in love with him, and he fucking hated it.

It started off small, with him politely hinting you away, but you were persistent. Bothersome. You absolutely wouldn't let him go, and that very fact would be the death of you.

König taps his pen against his desk, unmotivated to write his paperwork that was long past due. It wasn't anything serious, just a list of yes/no, if/and, where/when questions he didn't feel like reading through. Tap tap tap tap, the pen knocks against the table, abruptly stopping once König noticed you standing in the doorway.

He sighs, his entire mood shifting from unmotivated to irritated. "...why are you here, ☆☆☆..." he asks, sounding like more of a statement than a question due to his heavy accent and rough tone. Your name sounded like a curse coming from his mouth; a slur, even.

"I've done all my tasks." You explain to him, hands clasped together as you lean against the threshold.

"Und? Did ya want a cookie or something?" He teases. "I–I–" you stutter out, not sure how to respond to his sarcasm. "Don't worry about it." He fans his hand, looking back down at the paper.

He would've wrather been writing than dealing with you right now. You were so genuinely in love, enamored by him and his....qualities. but to König, this was all just some dumb hormonal puppy crush. He wanted a mature woman, not some silly girl like you.

"I...wanted to know if you'd go to the bar with me." You force out, your stomach churning with anxiety as you finally got the words out. "I'm not gonna be able to sneak you, Liebling, if that's what you're implying." He chuckles softly, beginning to scribble away at the paper.

"Sneak me in? I'm old enough to go to a bar, thank you very much." You look offended. It's almost humorous to him. Your anger is probably the only thing about you that made him smile, how funny and easy it was to piss you off. The younger ones typically did have a shorter temper.

"Oh, und how old are ya? 16? 17?" "...21." You said firmly, visibly irritated. You somehow managed to be the youngest in every group, so you were no stranger to being tease about your age.

"Oh...just old enough to drink. So, you want me to come and babysit you while you get drunk off your ass by some alcohol you're probably not even strong enough to handle?" "Why are you acting like this?" You folded your arms, frowning.

"What?" "I'm not inviting you as a chaperone, I'm inviting you as a date." You tilt your head slightly.

"...A date?" König almost bursts into laughter, stifling his chuckles with coughs as he covered his mouth. You could feel your confidence dropping with every hearty giggle.

"You're asking me out? Seriously?" "...yes." You mumble, no longer wanting to talk. "Why don't you ask Avery, hm? He's MUCH closer to your age." You frown at his words.

Avery was one his soldiers. A very kind young man, no older than 25, messy blonde hair. You loved having Avery around and he always made your moments memorable, but...he was practically a brother to you. You didn't see Avery as a potential love interest, you saw him as a silly best friend who had your back when you needed it.

"I don't want to go with him. I don't like him." You pouted.

"Well, that's too bad, Liebling. I'm far too old to be going out with someone like you. You're too young, und frankly, quite annoying. I want a woman. Not a puppy. Go ask someone else," he clicks his pen, leaning back in his chair.

"You're a very beautiful young lady and I'm sure there's plenty of men your age willing to kill to be with you." "I don't care what tuey want, I care what I want." You try to sound demanding, like you're standing your ground, but it comes out like a spoiled child whining, frustrating you further.

"Don't throw a fit, now." "I'm not!" You shout, now angry with yourself for being so openly bothered by his rejection. He couldn't help but exhale, looking at the sight of you. Your face was hot with agitation, eyes squinted with frustration as you stared into his eyes. He couldn't help but smile at your clenched hands. You were awful at hiding your emotions. It was almost precious to him

He felt himself becoming more tense, having to look down at the desk and put a hand to his forehead. "What am I gonna do with you..." he shakes his head. This wasn't the first time he'd rejected your advances; you've asked a myriad of times, being slowly but surely denied with more force each time.

"... I'll consider it." He offers, scratching his forehead, and you almost instantly rejoice at the idea. You suppressed a squeal as you bit your lip, trying not to make yourself look dumber.

"But not as a date." He interrupts, and you become nervous again.

"I don't want any unnecessary rumors about us spreading around. I'm not dating you and I don't want people to have the impression that I am. I'll invite a few others to go along with us and you will behave like a proper young lady. Understood?" "....Understood."

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

[siassims]

Happy Birthday Yair, Yvette, Yasmin and newly born Yuvan. 

So far 4 kids, no heir traits :(

[sugurizz]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬 ✧ Feat. JJK MEN

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ── Jjk Men in their -real- Daddy era. (Am I secretly having a baby fever LMAOO)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ── fluffy stuff, pure wholesomeness and affectionate dads.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

It's safe to say that sometimes you're raising two babies - only one of them is a big buff pouty one.

Daddy Toji sneaks to the kitchen in the middle of the night, leaving you both sleeping in your shared bedroom and then slowly closes the door. He promised himself he'd only take one *unnoticeable* spoon of your newborn's baby formula but ends up stuffing his face with the forbidden powder in the heat of the moment. He tries his best to hide his tracks by shoving the tin somewhere far in the cupboard.

He *oddly* always makes sure to be the one preparing his baby's bottle the next day - 'Oh darling, don'tcha move a muscle...I'll be right back with our baby's breakfast!'

You smile and raise a brow, already suspecting something. Daddy Toji is not much of a morning person. much less when it comes to baby chores...

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Gojo is always there whenever you change your baby's diaper. He keeps laughing and giggling like a 6 year old, curiously learning from his baby momma how to take care of his little child. His sky blue eyes are staring at your skilled hands, handling your precious little one with infinte care. He keeps smiling in awe, chuckling every time your baby farts and making the funniest faces just to make them giggle.

He takes a million pictures of his baby every day; we're talking his whole camera roll is just his baby's face, cutesy hands, tiny feet, smiling, eating, sleeping on daddy's chest, drooling on his shoulder...the list never ends.

His baby looks so smol when he holds it in his huge hands. He has to bend all the way down just so he could pick them up cause obviously my dude is the tallest man ever.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

He'd take full care of your newborn just to see you rest and relax. He told you to teach him everything he needs to know so that he'd be perfectly fit for his new -and best ever- occupation; your baby father. He's got however only one pet peeve; getting his little one to burp after feeding them.

The reason? He was doing it once, holding the baby while gently patting its back...until he suddenly felt a warm liquid slithering down his shirt - the expensive one you dearly gifted him on your wedding anniversary- and to his surprise it was none other than his little one's vomit dripping down his shoulder...

Now he makes sure you hold a napkin behind him whenever he does it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

He's by far the chillest Daddy EVER. Carries his little one whenever he goes. Gets super jealous when your baby starts calling for you, or wants you to hold them instead of him. He's determined to make them say 'daddy' first, but deep down knows it'd melt his heart when he sees the little version of him utter mommy's name for the first time.

Staying awake at night putting his baby to sleep just so you can get your full nightly rest is something he'd never miss out on. He hates seeing you tired or sleepy and puts both of your needs before anything else.

Daddy Geto is always calm and smiley, no matter how much mess his baby makes or how long it'd take for him to clean it up - sometimes makes you seriously wonder how he manages to be so damn chill all the time.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

For a husband twice your size with four arms and eyes he sure should take most care of your little offspring - He does tbf - His baby is always laying somewhere on his body or at least near him; sleeping against his chest, nibbling on his thumb, drooling on the side of his shoulder or sitting on his huge lap.

He's got a 6th sense whenever it comes to his baby being hungry, thirsty, sleepy or needing anything at all. Instantly knows the reason why his little one is crying and most of the time is very quick to make them happy again.

Absolutely hates poopie smell and calls them a brat whenever he senses their diaper getting heavier. 'Aggh you little runt!' You can't help laughing at him getting overwhelmed with such a tiny thing and start teasing him over it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚

There's nothing that Yuuta loves more than children. He has always wanted to have kids and couldn't wait to create his very first and own one with you. He's in LOVE with seeing you taking care of them; almost admiring every move and every word you say. He smiles like an idiot whenever he sees you holding your baby, breastfeeding them, playing with them or even laying next to them.

His favorite game is to hide somewhere in the house and let his little one look for him. He does it so suddenly and quickly, leaving them puzzled with big round eyes - comes out of his hideaway when they start sobbing and laughs at their little red nose and pouty cheeks.

'Aww why is my little cupcake cryiiing?...Daddy's right here!'

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part iii

✧.* things with lando get serious quickly and while your'e going through a rollocoaster of emotions with everything that's going on the public voices their own opinion.

✧.* this was supposed to be a cutesy, fluffy series but would it really be a landonfour story if it doesn't turn angsty? 💀 reader is older. Taglist is open. I always see your requests to be added to the list in the comments and I do add you but if you can't find your name in the list, it's probably because I was unable to tag you and therefore put you off the list. Feel free to ask again though, we'll keep trying! 😊

✧.* prev part - next part

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mclaren

liked by landonorris, y/nusername and 98,765 others

mclaren dream team..literally 😴

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

view all 362 commente

julieeeexo admin is going to be the biggest y/nlando shipper out there 😂

norry4 match made in heaven

norrislandofan y/n be sleeping so much because she's of old age 🤪

hamilt44n so funny..I'm so quirky..landos definitely going to fuck me.. 🤪

bott_ass didn't know there was a fucking age limit to taking naps..damn

jackson88 they better be wide awake when the season starts, I'm expecting big things!!

hannahh me and who, when?

mclarenslando stop it, the season hasn't even started yet and McLaren's already exposing them 😂

carlandosainz 🤮 🤮

chilisainz babe, do we need to call an ambulance or are you overreacting again?

landonorris cute

norrizz I think you forgot the heart emojis and everything

y/nusername can't live in peace anymore

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, milouberger and 201,853 others

y/nusername ..and we shall call it family 💕

view all 876 comments

hamilt44n okay but what does it take for y'all to accept me in the family?

y/nsmclaren hope you have fun bbyyy 🥰

laaaandonorr do your parent know you like little boys?

milouberger where was my invite? Tell dad he forgot to text me the location..

y/nusername dad just told me he's disowned you..

milouberger oh 😔

f1gurlz ..and another family torn apart :(

nor4iss they better hide those children knowing y/n loves her boys young 💀

sainznorriss are any of your nieces, nephews or siblings looking for a girlfriend? Asking for a friend 👀

gaslyslando ur disgusting

bobnorris get out of here if you're so disgusted 🙄

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 199,653 others

y/nusername recharging 🔋

view all 786 comments

mcbully/n yessss y/n, kick back and relax because we need you back on the track in top form!

charlos16 okay girl, keep being an absolute vibe. 😍

grussell63 imagine being lando and getting to call her yours 😭

landoscar don't know who to be jealous of 😭

pierreswife she's for real or of his league!

teamlando4 nah lando's way out of y/n her league, she should find someone hey own age 🤨

grussell63 @.teamlando4 nobody asked for your WRONG opinions.. thank you.

julieeeexo pls tell me where you got that necklace from, I need it 😍

cecilemoulin beauty 🥰

y/nusername no you 🥰

leclercnorriss leave lando alone and retire already

hamillewis why's everybody hating so much? Let her live her life..

landonorris 😍😍

norrizz okaaaay boy said I'm not hiding anything

lan4lan I mean he's been waiting to call y/n his for years 😂

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landonorris posted on his story

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taglists->

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @itsjustkhaos @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @buffysummrsx @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @ihrtdan @landossainz @christianpulisic10

[xxsunoosprincess]

Finally someone who doesnt write sunghoon as a hard dom!! Like have you seen that man, hes just a baby behind those muscles.

But tbh hes maybe a mean soft dom, LOVES to call you names and have you whining underneath him. It just boosts his ego a little

He might get super mean but i dont think he would be rough, maybe if you ask him to be though🫣🫣 (elaborate?)

A-fucking-gree. I think people mistake Sunghoon’s quietness for being mean, but I think he is just a silly guy. Even more than that, he is a simp for his girl. When he is in love he’s in love and would do anything for his baby. He lets you dress him up in pink even though he hates it because you say he looks pretty. He makes silly race car noises while pushing you around in grocery carts because he knows it makes you smile. And if you ask him to be a little extra rough with you one night, despite the fact that you’re his sweet little princess, then damn it he is going to. He just has to pep talk himself in the bathroom before hand and he’s ready to go.

(smut below the cut, minors DNI)

Has you flat on your back with your legs up, one hand wrapped around both your ankles while he bullies his cock deep into your cunt “Yeah? You fucking like that? You like being my slut?” There is sweat building at his hair line, his thick eyebrows furrowing. Something about you whining beneath him makes him want to work harder. He wants to please you, give you everything you wish for and more. It’s what makes him call you a “nasty little bitch” when you let out a moan of pleasure after he lands a harsh smack on the meat of your ass.

When you squeal and place your hand on his chest because it’s “too much hoonie!” it only makes him fuck into you harder. Tosses your legs down so he can take your hand off his chest and pin both of your wrists down above your head. With his free hand he grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open before he spits into it. “Thought you wanted it hard baby?” The condescending way he looks at you brings tears of pleasure to your eyes, but it’s enough to make him slow down. Immediately stops, placing a tender kiss on the tracks of tears that have started to flow. Needs explicit reassurance that he wasn’t too much :(

Still isn’t a fan of seeing you cry, so he lets you take control, too scared he will get caught up in the moment and push you too far. Flips you over into doggy and let’s you take what you need “Work yourself on my cock, baby. Fuck… that’s my sweet girl.” <3 Sunghoon sweetie agenda.

a/n: I feel like this is a lil short but I’m feeling a little silly today. I hope it makes you clap and smile. Dats all for today xx - princess

tag list: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (dm or fill out form to join tag list)

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

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[drawlody]

My list of Adam ships♡ n my opinion bout them (also fics rec :D)

Adam x Luicfer (Adamsapple/Duitarduck) 10/10

Need i say more:)))??!?! started out as a "haha funny slip-up ship" to "hey they got really good angst potential". The friends/lovers to enemies to lovers is STRONG with this one n i am eating up everything i could found on ao3. Smth bout this macho-ass man finally getting to stay back n not take charge for once feel nice, also princess Adam supermacy wooooo. Whoever came up with the ship name i applaud u cause that's like a 3 layers name(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

It's not an Adamsapple fic without Adam having at least 1 mental breakdown n Lucifer have his guilt eating him alive:)))

Very fucked up torture but i swear it worth the pain:D The dove is so dead it start to rot so plz read the tags properly (plz check out the AngeliaDark other works too they got good shit)

This one have a splits so check out both the fics (beware the author have a skrewed sense of what is considered wholesome:))))

I didnt think a smut scene could be this sad

Adam x Lute (Guitarspear/Guardrock) 10/10

Litteraly my first Hazbin ship, assholes in love is an underrated dynamic we desperately need more off:))) That with a dash of evil dude x loyal subordinate (which i havent seen since the Deathglare days) n opposite attract (look they have one main thing in common is that their extreme bloodthirst, other than that she's stricter than ur mom n he's lazier than the Sloth ring itself but that the beauty of it no? He convince her to chill tf out n not to burst a blood vessel, she keep him on track n make sure Sera dont come on their asses)

They're just being silly enabling each other terrible behaviour n i love that for them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Litteral besties i tell ya

Heavy non-con shit involving Val but Lute will revenge our boi i promised u that

Cool idea n they r just made for each other damn

First hazbin fic i read which is a really cool smut:D

Adam x Micheal (we need a ship name people ) (update: it's Songbird/Guitarhero) 10/10

I like how we dont even got a proper comfirmation of Micheal design/personality yet the ship is here already ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ( im using the Nakariiale's design as a base here love their design)

Hit me with that rebound love x "u look like my ex so im using u as a replacement but ill fall for the real u eventually" x co-workers in heaven. I'm thinking smth along the line of "after Lucifer fucked off with Lilith, Micheal became Adam guardian angel n they just hang out" ya feel me here? (✿◕‿◕✿)

Shout out to Bloog_b for dragging me into this ship:DDD also im on the Adam x the archangels ship as a "gotcha" to Lucifer of sort. Like bitch u stole my wives imma steal your brotherS

Look it's Adamsapple endgame but trust me u will be feed well on this ( u know how good u gotta be for people to ditch the main ship?)

I'm giving yall 4 fics here cause i can only found 4 rn(._. )

this one is uhh non-con so beware

Micheal is indeed Adam guardian angel in this one:D

Adam x Eve (Flowertunes) 8/10

I dont care what yall said they love each other throughout Eden n Earth , might have a falling out in heaven but that doesnt change the fact that they were once IN LOVE. Honestly why cant we just have a couple that have the same bright-eyed innocence like one another.I refuse to believe Eve like willingly cheat on Adam with malicious intent n all, simply she was indeed ''tricked'' or just not fully understand the sistuation, n Adam love her way too much to think that she would do that to him like Lilith. Hell the dude was heartbroken after L left , starting the abandonment issues, so he would have cling to Eve, doing everything so that he aint alone again, even if that mean leaving Eden

Honestly it pisses me off that the Adam/Eve tag on ao3 most of the time is just 1 dialouge between them back when Eve bit the apple n thats it no elaboration on the couple whatsoever >:(((

Lots of switcharoos

sinner eve woooo

look its hard trynna find a fic focusing on them ok?

Adam x St. Peter (Guitargreeter (bet ya didnt see that coming:))) 7/10

Base on this fanfic alone Joe my dude u r on the path of becoming THE Adam crack-ship writer n i am here for this:)))) just so u wait this dude gonna whip out a AdamxNifty , AdamxHusk fic later on ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

From within the fic itself the ship its 2 bros in love with homophobia standing in the way >:( also when did we have a name?!?!?!?

I just like Adam x anyone in heaven alright:D like bro famous n he got that ancient rizz, u telling mr he cant bag a hottie or 2-100+ hmm?

Adam x Alastor (Angelicradio) 8/10

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT ABOUT THEM THAT I SHIP I JUST DO φ(゜▽゜*)♪ i blame YOU honestly rn this ship is either Adam found Al after the fight n they make a deal or they're in heaven n they chillin this ship is confusing:D

They're angels on heaven

Adam gone back into eden n do shit differently

This is both Adam/Eve n Adam/Alastor kinda

Adam x Alastor x Lucifer (Angelicradioapple/ Charlie's dads (only me call them that lol)) 9/10

''Hey Charlie u know how u r sad that your mother left? Wellllllll i got you 2 new dads suprise:DDDD''

Look 3 miserable men who hate each other + hell's greatest dad + my love for Dadam = Messy ass old men yaoi :DDDD n it work perfectly with Alastor Asexuality too!!! Like Adam n Lucifer could fuck each other brains out before Al joining in for the cuddles lol

Chaos ensue

Not exactly a love triangle but a love corner but hey we barely got food here :D

I cant believe how hot this shit is lol

Adam x Eve x Lilith x Lucifer (Eden poly/ applecore?) 8/10

They could have been all married to each other(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But as much as i go "OooOooo Poly yay'' i just cant vibe with EvexLucifer, like the cheating vibes is wayyyyyyyyy too much i just cant man . I mean with the interpetation that Lucifer came to Eden to hang out with the humans they all know eachother, they're a throuple yes but BUT when Eve came into the picture it was only with Adam n him only so the other 2 is ehhhh. Im fine with EvexLilith cause im seeing it happening later, not hidden from Adam while LuciferxEve got that deception going on .So uhhh in this ship they're more like bestie than lovers to me¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also AdamxLilith is an underrated pairing like everytime i saw this applecore thing going on these 2 r at most tolerate each other like cmonnnnn we already twist this to hell n back, why cant we make it so their arguement was a petty non-malicious one n they still cares for each other hmm???

They're one happy family

IDK what to tell u bittersweet reunion n loving family is the only typa fic u get with this ship

Not that im complaining i need this wholesomeness

Adam x Mammon (Adammon/Madam/Greedyguitar/ 1st chirstmas.... hasnt had an offical name yet) 10/10

They r litteraly same person different font idk what to tell u. More insults thrown around than Guitarspear but they're pretty similar. Adam is just " sinners suck ass but this dude is the worst in the best way". Also they're both big bois (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ , they love towering over others

I'm sorry but there r barely BARELY

any fics of them :(

The art side is more plentiful tho :D

Adam x Angel Dust (Holydust/guitardust) 5/10

THEY ARE BESTIES YOUR HONOUR n that the exact reason why i cant see them be together as a couple 100%, like the shit-talking bff vibes r wayyyy too strong XD Angel finally got someone who have the same vulgar humour as him n if Adam got married in hell Angel would 100% be his best bitch of honour (≧∀≦)ゞq(≧▽≦q)

They're best friends who have casual no-string attached sex that is ACTUALLY no-string attached:)))

I came to ship them due to those "What if they're co-workers under Val' scenarios ive been seeing on Tumblr

I got like 1 fic on ao3 i mean if u r looking for just platonic friendship between them then rest asure most Adam's redemption fics have that

I got 1 fic on tumblr

Adam x Charlie (Charadam/Guitarprincess) 5/10

U know this ship give me a pretty bad first impression since a good chunk of the fics r either heavy non-con shit or lean wayyyyy to much into the daddy kink, ya know how Charlie got suppose daddy issues n all that jazz?:))) yeah that... that

But after seeing the art side of this ship im chillin with them now, since the art r pretty wholesome, usually having them decked out in punk-rock clothings hanging out. It's a big "Fuck you" to Lucifer n i live for these mf argueing ╰(*°▽°*)╯

So uhhh stay away from the fics if ya want an actual functional couple instead of wtv messed up shit we got there:))) But here's a fic anyway, the only one where it feel bearable n actual trynna go into said messed up relationship i already warn you

We got cracks like Guitarmaid (AdamxNifty), Valadam (AdamxVal) which i dont have enough materials to decied, Classicalrock (AdamxSera) sound interesting but also havent found anything , Guitarhalo (AdamxEmily) is an unexpected find, find i deem them to be more familial than romantic so we'll see if there's a fic good enough to convince me

Edit:i forgot to add Blitzo like Mammon already there why did i forgot

Adam x Blitzo (i dont think anyone even ship this but me:)) 7/10

I cant find a single fic where they has anything more than a 1 nightstand n 1 interaction where they hit it off , i live off imagination alone (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) but like fr fr they would match so well, like their bloodlust n general jerkiness would make them the 3rd asshole x asshole ship on this list :DDDD

Tho as much as i wanna see them go further i feel like an on-n-off relationship/friends with benefits fit em more ya know ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰) If ya have any fic but the 2 here that have them interact lemme know cause a bitch need food :)

This is a lot of tag(._. )

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader - Cypher is neurodivergent - 18+ mdni

"What's goin' on?"

You whirl, eyes wide and tearful, taking him in. He didn't change, practically sprinted off the bird to your building, the ragged anxiety of being away for thirty six days bearing down on him like a god damn animal.

He felt like an animal. Tracking, hunting, killing, like an animal. Thirty six days of blood and bones and dirt in his nose. Carbine comfortable in his hands, eyes closed and still knows every detail.

Just like he knows you.

He hoped you'd be sleeping. Hoped maybe you'd be in bed, blissed out, nothing on but the sheets like always. It's the middle of the night, you should be sleeping.

"J-johnny." You look distraught. Lips bloodied and torn, nails chewed to the quick. The collar of his t shirt is stretched so wide he can see your collarbones and chest. You look like you haven't slept.

It turns his stomach. Drags memories to the forefront of his mind, things he's been trying to forget. The sound of your panicked scream, the shrill call of his name. Blood, splattered, dripping from your nose.

"What is it?" He steps closer, but you step back. "Cypher." He's stern, reverting back to Sergeant. You shake your head.

"Don't-" Your breathing is short, but controlled. You're not on the verge of an anxiety attack, but still, something is wrong.

"It's alright, wee sweet. Tell me what's goin' on."

"They moved the analyst center." He cocks his head. "They moved it, to another part of the building. There are no windows, and it only has overhead lighting. Fluorescent overhead lighting. Do you know what that's like? It's like... it's like... it's..." you tug at the collar, snapping your mouth shut. Pieces click together and paint a picture.

"Okay." He says softly, stepping closer. You don't seem to notice, because you don't draw away.

"They keep me up." You explain. "The lights, all day. And then- when I get back, and try to sleep... I can't turn off. And you're not here... to turn me off, and I-"

"I'm here now, Cy." He dares to reach, closing the gap, brushing against your shoulder, testing the waters. "Can we take this off?"

"What?" you blink.

"The shirt. Ye're stretchin' the collar, think ye might be more comfortable if we got rid of it." Your shoulders drop, a fraction, a tiny amount of tension slipping away.

"Yeah, okay." You lift your arms, and he smothers a laugh, pulling it up and over as quickly as possible. You glare at him. "Don't laugh at me."

"'m sorry, 'm not. Swear. Ye're jus' cute, is all. Genius analyst, could topple a country with the click of a button, but... puts her arms up so her Sergeant can take off her shirt." You scowl, and relief warms his heart. There you are. "Tell me about the new data room." He rubs your shoulders, and then sits you on the bed. Once you're settled, he begins the process of stripping his gear, keeping his focus on you.

"It's in the middle of the building. Second floor. I hate it. I guess they moved us because they've transferred some of our team-"

"What?"

"Yeah, like six. Seven? I don't know." His stomach flips. He'll need to talk to Laswell, make sure you're not on the transfer list. "But that's not the problem. It's the fucking... the lights! And the consoles are too close, now. I can practically hear the breathing." you huff, and he nods, pulling his shirt off and unzipping his pants. Your glaze flicks down, lips twitching.

"What can I do?" Your eyes go a little glassy, and then you look at your feet.

"I really missed you." There's a tremble in your voice, a wet choke, and he goes down on one knee, ducking into your line of sight.

"I missed you too, wee sweet." He pulls your hand into his. "'m gonna take care of ye now, alright? Give ye what ye need. Lay back." You were only wearing panties under that shirt, and he pats your thigh, instructing you to lift up so he can pull them down, rearranging your legs onto his shoulder. "Missed this bonnie pussy too." He thumbs your seam, licking his lips at how slick you already are. "Think she missed me?"

"I- I don't-"

"It's okay. She did, can tell. She's already cryin' for me. Poor wee thing. So neglected." You squirm, hips shivering, and he stills you with a wide hand to your lower belly. "Be still, Cy."

"Okay, sir." And just like that. Your voice is already an octave lower, relaxed-

and when he puts his mouth on you, you go boneless.

"Oh god." It's a choke as he spreads your folds, licking a long stripe from your clit and down. You moan, fingers twisted in his hair, and he sighs happily. This, this is where he belongs now. Face buried in your cunt.

He wrings your first orgasm out of you like water from the wash, quick and easy. You have been good, haven't touched yourself for thirty six days, making you malleable, lackadaisical, sweet. He gets another, and another, until your thighs are straight and tight around his head, muscles rock under his hands.

"Thank you." You practically slur, head lolling on his shoulder when he pulls you onto him in bed, hot as a furnace. He pats your ass, just once, just to feel it ripple, and then buries his face in your neck.

Sweet dreams.

[ataliagold]

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C: 2012

Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington has dyscalculia, Steve Harrington has self esteem issues, Steve Harrington needs a hug, fluff, light angst, DnD, Mike and Dustin are a little mean here

Notes: Just slowly posting some of my AO3 stuff here as well :) Title from Rattlesnake by Jack Van Cleaf.

___

Steve joining in on Eddie’s campaign was supposed to be a nice surprise for his boyfriend.

And it was; Eddie’s face had lit up with joy when Steve had walked in and sat down with the kids around the table. Steve had taken the dice Dustin had loaned him and lined them up in front of him, from the D4 (the funny triangle one) up to the D20 (the one with heaps of sides, Steve reminded himself.)

If he kept them in that order it would help him pick the right dice quickly, he’d decided.

Because he wanted this to go to perfectly.

Eddie had been asking him to join in on a game for months, but Steve had so far refused, only coming along sometimes to watch quietly. There were parts of it that piqued his interest – namely the combat and the creatures Eddie planted into the game, because some of them were so damn cool even if Steve wouldn’t readily admit it out loud. A small part of him, a much younger part that had loved fairy tales and stories about knights and dragons and sword fights before his father had confiscated those books, deeming them too childish, watched with a quiet giddiness as the kids battled all manner of beasts.

But much of the game was so complicated - there were so many numbers, and Steve had no idea how Eddie and the kids managed to keep track of everything, how they added dice values together so damn quickly and kept track of a seemingly endless list of stats and bonuses and modifiers, whatever the hell they were.

Eddie knew about his difficulty with numbers. He’d seen the way Steve had to count with his fingers, how it took him far too fucking long to do a simple equation, how he stood in Melvald’s staring at the price of something just trying to make the numbers make sense so they wouldn’t blow their grocery budget.

And Eddie was patient, always. But D&D was Eddie’s realm, his place to shine, and Steve was so worried about holding him back and ruining the game every time he had to pause to add two fucking dice together.

Finally, he’d caved. Secretly, with Dustin’s help, he’d put a character sheet together. He’d made a paladin because Dustin had told him it suited him. Steve made him strong and lawful good, just like the knights he used to read about as a little boy. Dustin had rolled his eyes a little at that but Steve had been quite proud of what he’d put together.

Plus, Dustin had promised to help him with the math.

But here Steve was, well over an hour into the campaign, and he was struggling.

Cheeks burning, he turned to Dustin yet again.

“Wait, which one am I rolling?” he whispered.

Dustin rolled his eyes. The kid had been patient at first, but it was beginning to wear thin.

Steve was beginning to wear thin.

“The D10, Steve,” Dustin hissed.

“Right,” Steve nodded, grabbing for one of the dice.

“That’s the D8, Steve,” Mike said wearily.

Steve’s cheeks flushed even hotter, and he grabbed the other dice, rolling it quickly.

“Ahhh...seven,” Steve announced.

“You slash at the goblin, your blade cutting deep into its chest, the creature gurgling and reeling backwards…” Eddie leant over the table, giving a dramatic recount of events.

Steve smiled, unable to help it. His boyfriend was having such a good time, and even if Steve wasn’t enjoying himself so much, well, that was ok. He could do this, for Eddie.

“…but it scrabbles back to its feet, weak but alive,” Eddie finishes.

Mike groaned and slapped the table.

“It has to be almost dead,” Lucas announced.

“Yeah, but there’s still four others,” Mike pointed out.

“This one must be on two hit points or less,” Will surmised.

How did he know that? Steve frowned, let the kids talk amongst themselves. His gaze wandered over to Eddie, watching him lean back in his chair, eyes shining. He shot a wink at Steve when he caught him looking, then frowned a little, obviously noticing Steve wasn’t looking all that comfortable.

You ok? He mouthed at him.

Steve nodded quickly.

But he felt small.

Grow the fuck up, you’re fine.

“…Steve!” Mike groaned.

Steve’s attention snapped back to the kids. “What?”

“Stop staring at Eddie and tell us how many hit points you’ve got left.”

“Um…” Steve glanced down at the piece of paper in front of him. He’d scribbled some numbers down like Dustin had told him to every time his character had taken damage, but there were a lot of numbers there and he wasn’t sure they all actually related to his hit points…

“Give it here,” Dustin snatched the paper from him impatiently, peering down at it.

Steve waited while Dustin assessed his work, the feeling vaguely reminiscent of being back in school, his teachers reading over his work with a disappointed shake of their heads.

“This can’t be right, Steve,” Dustin sighed. “It says you’re on twelve hit points…is that a twelve? Your writing’s messy.”

Steve nodded. “Yours isn’t much better, pea-brain,” he mumbled, just to shoot something back at the kid.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. “You must have less than that because of the damage you took in the last round. You’re probably down to…eight at the most, by now.”

“Just make it eight, then,” Steve grumbled.

“Eight it is, big boy,” Eddie agreed.

“It doesn’t work like that, though,” Mike huffed. “You actually have to keep track of this stuff Steve, there’s no point playing if you just make the numbers up.”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Will tried to intervene quietly. “It can just be eight.”

Dustin picked up his pencil, drawing some columns on Steve’s paper. “Ok, so just use this one column to keep track of damage, don’t write all over the page. There’s your total hit points at the top, and every time you take damage, write it down under there, ok? And then just take it off the total. Simple.”

Like it was that fucking easy. Maybe for them, it was. They didn’t get every number mixed up in their brain, they didn’t stare at a single digit trying to put some numeric value behind it and coming up with zilch.

Dustin was trying to help, Steve knew. But his tone of voice was so fucking condescending that it had Steve squirming in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else.

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Come sit by me, Stevie, I’ll help you keep track.” Eddie said gently.

“You’ll just go easy on him, and that’s not fair!” Mike whined.

“Can it, Wheeler,” Eddie snapped at him.

“Just because he can’t do basic math.”

“Right, you get to roll with disadvantage now, just for that,” Eddie told him smugly.

Mike was retorting with something, but Steve didn’t hear it.

His pulse was thumping in his ears, his cheeks on fire. The years were stripped from him, the sensitive child he’d tucked away inside a long time ago forced to the surface.

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor.

“Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears.

He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much.

But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face.

This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid.

A tear tracked down his cheek , Steve losing the battle against them. He’d just drive home, he decided. Steve had come straight from work that day, so Eddie had come separately in his van, he wouldn’t be inconvenienced.

And then they could finish their game in peace, without having to treat Steve like a five-year-old.

He was getting in the driver’s seat when Eddie ran to him, both hands reaching for him.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured softly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled, dragging his sleeve across his face, smudging the tears there.

“Why? The kids were being assholes, I’ve already yelled at them.”

Steve shook his head. “I was just slowing everyone down, they were getting frustrated, I get it.”

“No, sweetheart, they were being rude,” Eddie corrected him. “Especially Wheeler.” Eddie brushed his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, crouching down beside the open driver’s door. “I’ve told them to pull their heads in. Do you…do you want to come back inside?”

“Eds…” Steve leant into his hands a little. “I’m no good at it. I really wanted to try, for you, and I’m so sorry I ruined it, but there’s too many numbers and I can’t keep track of everything and it takes me so fucking long and it’s embarrassing because I can’t even keep up with a bunch of kids, and I just feel like I’m back at school again.”

Eddie cupped his cheeks again, tilting Steve’s head to look at him. “Hey. You haven’t ruined anything, they did. I’m so happy you came along tonight, because I know you did it for me. But look, D&D doesn’t have to be your thing -”

“But -”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie cut in. “Just like…your balls in laundry basket games aren’t mine. But I like hanging around while you and Wayne watch them, and I love how excited you get about it, and how you sit there with that fucking pretty smile…”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, and Eddie grabbed his wrist to press a kiss to the inside of it.

“But I don’t know what’s going on most of the time,” Eddie continued. “It makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. So, I don’t want you to feel like you have to play D&D just for me if it’s not something you enjoy. It’s more than enough that you listen to my ideas, that you help me write -”

“I don’t really,” Steve said quietly.

“You do! Or have you forgotten who came up with that fucking amazing twist with the elven prince?”

“I got it from a movie,” Steve argued.

“So? I didn’t think of it, and it had the little shrimps completely stumped.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I do like some of the stories,” he admitted quietly. “But I think…I just wanna go home, ok? You can carry on.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m gonna get them to pack up in there. I’ll drop them home, then follow you back, ok?”

“Steve?” came Dustin’s voice from behind Eddie, small and hesitant.

Steve quickly straightened up in his seat, wiping a hand across his face.

“Yeah, buddy?” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“I’m…I’m sorry. That we weren’t more patient. It’s ok if you struggle with numbers, and we should’ve helped more.”

“It’s ok, Dusty,” Steve told him.

Eddie frowned, reached down to squeeze Steve’s hand, then turned to Dustin. “It isn’t ok,” he argued. “But it was nice of you to apologize.”

Dustin nodded. “If you want to try again sometime, I promise I’ll help more. I…I really liked having you play.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed.

“Tell Wheeler to start crafting his apology too,” Eddie said firmly, still cradling Steve’s hand in his own. “Otherwise he’s rolling with disadvantage for the whole next session.”

Dustin’s eyes widened a little before he nodded.

After packing up, the kids waited sheepishly by Eddie’s van. Eddie stayed crouched next to Steve a moment longer.

“Go home, get comfy on the couch, and pick out any movie you want to watch, ok?” Eddie murmured to him. “When I get home I’m gonna order us some pizza, and I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you, understand?”

Steve laughed softly. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

___

[tobiasdrake]

FUN FACT: Did you know Frieza had a finite amount of soldiers on Namek? (And he doesn't kill his troops.)

Also Appule is kind of important and there's a clearly marked place where Goku's six-day space journey happens in the timeline?

I have a laundry list of grievances with the Dragon Ball and DBZ animes. We're here to talk about one of those right now! The Z anime gives Frieza infinitely respawning soldiers that just seem to pour out of his ship whenever he needs them.

This interferes with a key plot point of Frieza's portion of the Namekian Dragon Ball hunt: That Frieza, for all his power, is rendered helpless when his attack on Moori's village goes south.

See these guys?

These guys ruin Frieza's entire goddamn week.

Get his ass, my Namekian thembruhs.

A consistent weakness of Frieza's forces is that they fight blind. By this point in the series, characters on Earth have been taught advanced fantasy martial arts involving manipulation of ki or chi. They can concentrate ki into attacks more powerful than the wielder, sense ki in other beings and feel incoming attacks without having to see them, suppress ki to become invisible to ki detection, etc. etc.

The Earthlings are goddamn amazing at ki manipulation, and the Namekians are just as good.

But Frieza's Planet Trade Organization represents the uncaring hand of capitalism. There is no artistry in their methods. There is no true discipline or understanding. They're a bunch of paid thugs with guns, looking to gentrify planets for their boss: a real estate mogul. So they rely on fallible technology that fails time and time again when put up against experienced martial artists.

The battle at Muri's village is no exception, as Frieza's forces get slaughtered by the "harmless" interlopers.

With only the elites vaguely understanding, from second-hand accounts, what they're seeing here.

Which, in turn, gives Muri the opening he needs to cripple Frieza's campaign by destroying the Scouters they're using to track down Namekian villages.

This is Muri's checkmate. Muri destroys the Scouters, the technology Frieza relies on to find Namekian villages on this planet and take their Dragon Balls. Meanwhile, his reinforcements wipe out Frieza's army.

That guy right is the only survivor of the massacre.

This is Appule. If you've ever wondered why Appule was so important that he got to be his own distinct character in Tenkaichi 3, this is why. Appule is the last grunt left standing.

Though Dodoria makes short work of the Namekian warriors, the damage is done. Frieza's lost his Scouters and he's out of manpower. He's going to have to fan his men out to search the planet, a planet larger than Earth, by looking around with their eyes. And the only men he has left to do that are Zarbon, Appule, and Dodo--

...are Zarbon and Appule.

So. Y'know. Frieza is two deaths short at this point of being completely and utterly fucked sideways.

As his two remaining men set out to search, Zarbon takes great care to tell Appule not to do anything that might get him killed.

It is absolutely pivotal for Frieza's campaign that these two live. There is no one else on this planet who can do the job. It's Appule who ultimately succeeds in finding the last Namekian village.

For some reason, in their eagerness to rewrite the story so that there are far more soldiers on Namek for some reason, the anime makes this Appule's vampire cousin?

Uh. Okay, man. Sure. In any case, it's Appule who finds the village and Appule who reports its destruction to Frieza. He's not a significant character by any stretch, but you can see why he warrants a bit more name recognition than Frieza Soldier #72. He has more impact on the plot that Cui does, that's for damn sure.

Too bad about Vegeta though.

It's a lot easier for Vegeta to get away with this gambit in the manga than it is in the anime. In the anime, somehow the infinitely respawning Frieza soldiers (who he regularly kills for funsies) flooding the halls don't give away the fact that Vegeta's still here.

But with Appule dead, Zarbon and Frieza are the only people left alive in the ship. It's a lot easier to distract two people for a minute than a limitless garrison.

In the manga, this is the closest Frieza ever gets to team-killing one of his own soldiers. Once he realizes Vegeta has stolen all five of his Dragon Balls, has a sixth Dragon Ball stashed away, and is now just one Dragon Ball away from immortality while Frieza's blind and understaffed? All because Zarbon fucked up?

He says some shit.

So. Yeah. He's not above killing his men when they fuck up so bad that they cost him immortality and give his most dangerous archnemesis the means to topple his empire and end him.

But that's a much higher bar to clear than shooting down his infinitely respawning dudes because, uh....

*checks notes* With the Ginyu Force on their way, Frieza can afford to kill his own guys because the Ginyus are better than them anyway. So he keeps them all in the ship and murders them for no reason despite the fact that Vegeta is actively making off with his Dragon Balls right this second and he has no idea to where.

Yeah. That's. Uh. That's a pretty significant story difference. In any case, Frieza's campaign grinds to a screeching halt when....

That's it. That is the very last one. Frieza's campaign is sunk. Until the Ginyu Force arrives, Frieza has no forces and no resources left. He is an unbelievably powerful man, the most powerful in the universe, and the only way he could ever hope to catch up to Vegeta is by flying aimlessly around a colossal planet and looking for Vegeta with his eyes.

I've often heard people express confusion about where Goku's six-day transit is supposed to fit into the Namekian timeline. This, right here? This is it. At this moment, it's over for Frieza. For the next five days, he is soundly defeated. He's out of the race for the Dragon Balls entirely.

And the only reason Vegeta hasn't won the race is because of that one Ball Gohan smuggled away from him.

So Frieza, defeated, is forced to sit in his broken ship with his thumb up his ass and wait for reinforcement.

Vegeta, with six Dragon Balls, is forced to sit on his balls with his thumb up his ass hoping the talented martial artist Earthlings currently suppressing their ki signatures get stupid and give him something to detect - knowing that if he leaves for a second, those little shits with the Dragon Radar might scoop 'em up from under him.

While Gohan and Krillin, with ki signatures suppressed, make the five-day trek at minimum power to Saichoro/Guru.

It's here. Right here. Where everything stops for five days to pass, and for Goku to approach the planet. All because Frieza ran dry on resources and manpower to keep up the hunt.

[jikookuntold]

The Untold Truth of "Letter"

Back in 2021, 2022, or even early 2023, if someone had told me about the possibility of JK having vocal credits in Jimin's solo album, I would have called it wishful thinking at best. But it happened, and we got the song "Letter" (AKA Dear Army) as a hidden track in Jimin's first solo album, FACE, with back vocals by JK, and his name written invisibly in the album book.

The perfectly matching vocals of Jikook, with the heartfelt lyrics and soft instruments, undoubtedly made one of the most beautiful songs of the year, which could break many records for Jimin and his album if it was released in the streaming and buying services. The release of Letter as a hidden track in Jimin's solo album raised many questions and debates among Jikookers, and as someone who barely scrolls in the Tumblr app, I know I'm a bit late for the party, but I may or may not have some notes to add to the already made discussions. FYI, these are my analytic views and speculations, I am fully aware that this song has been named "Dear Army", and Jimin called it a "Fan song" on different occasions. So, I do not intend to ignore that and diminish Jimin's expression of love for his fans.

What's a Hidden Track?

Before getting into "Letter", we need to understand what a hidden track is. Well, the definition is pretty clear; When a song is not listed in the official track-list of a music album, but it exists in (some versions of) the physical printed CD, cassette, or LP, it's called a "hidden track". 

Hidden Tracks of BTS

There are several techniques and reasons to "hide" a track in an album, but in the case of BTS discography, the hidden tracks exist for a specific reason, and I'm going to explain it with the only examples we have. The debut album (2013) and Love Yourself: Her (2017), are the only BTS albums including hidden tracks, and if we ignore the skits in each album, "Path" and "Sea" are the only hidden songs BTS ever released. So, these two songs must have something(s) in common and different from the other BTS tracks that caused them to end up as a hidden track. To find that common factor, we need to check their lyrics first:

Path

[Intro: RM] Yeah, wassup? You know, time flows like stars (Check it, check, check, check, check it out) [Verse 1: RM] I started from imitating Eminem, Garion, Epik High To writing my own raps Now I see that I’m already at Hongdae My lyrics back then were all (****) Bossy But we dunno, we dunno When I dreamed without anyone to stop me Reality tied me down and trapped me inside Oh, my youth trapped me My hot heart lost to my cold mind (Damn) As I blindly told myself my decision was right I don’t know whether it’s an angel or a devil, but it says to me "Do you really have any plans to rap properly?" (Yes or no?) I didn’t have more time to hesitate and didn’t want to be stupid So I came here and three years passed by Some say art is long, life is short But for now, art is life Life is sports, just do it, uh [Chorus] If I had chosen a different path, would have I been any different? If I stopped and looked back (Oh hey ya, hey ya) What will I see at the end of this road? Where you should’ve been standing? (Oh hey ya, hey ya) [Verse 2: Suga, Suga & Jungkook] A long time passed and by 2013, I was a trainee for three years I was a high school student who grew overnight (I became a child) White hair grew from my desires and one by one my many friends (Parted ways with me) I spent my time in Seoul alone without a family (That was my third spring) I thought my worries would disappear with my debut ahead of me I closed my eyes to the present that had nothing to change But the reality was different, even as my family and friends tried to stop me I walked into the tunnels that shed no light on my own I thought I would be alone (Why?) As it turns out, there weren’t seven bare feet but we were wearing the shoe named Bangtan We’ll have to go forward, take one more step, become newer And that’s how I spent my fourth spring in Seoul (Whoa) [Chorus] If I had chosen a different path, would have I been any different? (Hey) If I stopped and looked back (Hey) Oh hey ya, hey ya What will I see at the end of this road? Where you should’ve been standing? (Oh hey ya, hey ya) [Verse 3: J-Hope] 2010, the year I walked towards Seoul! I just loved to dance, and now I’m standing on top of the stage Until then, I overcame many pains and scars to prepare myself I survived with my belief to bend, not break, and ran for three years Let the stars inside my heart shine! Now shine on me differently Write “Bangtan” on the paper world I walk my future with more lights on Give a smile to that far future (Ha, ha)

As you can see, the lyrics are simple and self-explanatory, so I guess we don't need any lyrics analysis, and the description section of the Genius translation I used here, says it all:

“길 (Road/Path) follows the member’s decisions to become idols in the Korean music industry. They recall their different upbringings from listening to hip hop in school to the hard years of being trainees under BigHit Entertainment. BTS pose the questions of how their lives would be different if they made a different decision, and they ask themselves what the future entails. A very introspective track about their career for a debut album, BTS display their thought processes as they enter the music scene.”

Sea

[Intro: Jungkook] Oh, ah, yeah [Verse 1: Rap Monster] I just started walking and ended up at the sea I'm looking at the coast from here There's endless sand and the rough wind I'm still looking at a desert I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed you up But I'm even thirstier than before Is what I know really the ocean? Or a blue desert? [Refrain: J-Hope] I don't know, I don't know If I'm feeling the waves right now, yeah I don't know, I don't know If I'm being chased by the sand wind, yeah I don't know, I don't know Is this the sea or the desert? Is this hope or despair? Is this real or fake? Shit [Pre-Chorus: J-Hope] I know, I know, my hardship right now I know, I know, I'll overcome I know, I know, open me up It's the place I can rely on Think positive, I'm swallowing my dry spit Even if I'm nervous, even if I'm in a desert I'm in the beautiful Namib Desert [Chorus: Jimin, Jin] Where there is hope, there is always trial (4) [Hook: V, Jungkook] Where there is hope You know, you know You know, yeah yeah (2) [Verse 2: Suga] I thought this was the ocean but it's a desert A medium-sized, ordinary idol was my second name Countless people get cut from broadcast But someone's empty spot is our dream They say some of these kids can't make it cuz their agency is too small I know, I know, I know too Times when the seven of us had to sleep in one room With foolish hope that tomorrow will be different before we fell asleep We saw the mirage in the desert but we couldn't grasp it Praying that we'll remain in this desert till the end Praying that this isn't truly our reality [Verse 3: Suga] In the end, we reached the mirage and it became our reality The scary desert became the ocean with our blood, sweat and tears But why is there this fear in between the happiness? Because we know too well that this place is really a desert [Refrain 2: Suga] I don't wanna cry I don't wanna rest No, who cares if we rest a little? No no no I don't wanna lose It's always a desert I told you everything Then I'll just be more depressed [Chorus: Jungkook, V] Where there is hope, there is always trial (2) [Hook: Jimin, Jin] Where there is hope You know, you know You know, yeah yeah (2) [Bridge: Rap Monster] Ocean, desert, the world Everything, the same thing Different name I see ocean, l see desert I see the world Everything's, the same thing With a different name It's life again [Hook: V, Jungkook] Where there is hope You know you know you know yeah (2) [Chorus] Where there is hope, there is always trial

Compared to “Path”, we have more innuendos and metaphors in “Sea” because of Namjoon’s lyricism (it was supposed to be in his mixtape at first), but as the description says:

"It discusses the hardships BTS has experienced since debut, particularly struggling to compete with groups from other, larger agencies. In this song, BTS reflects on these hardships, fearing that their global fame and success could leave as suddenly as it arrived."

Common Denominator

These two lyrics have one big thing in common, and it's the topic they are discussing. They talk about the members' struggles, fears, hopes, and dreams career-wise. I was thinking maybe these issues are something they can only share with their longtime fans, not the general public, therefore, they decided to release them as hidden tracks in the physical album for their real fans who buy them, something like the difference between Weverse and Instagram, I guess? Then I realized that’s something Namjoon has mentioned himself to Billboard Magazine, in LYS: Her interview:

And if fans are so lucky to own the physical album, they’ll hear two hidden tracks at the very. Why keep them secretive?

"I think they’re hidden because you have to be a real fan of BTS to understand them. Otherwise, you won’t. Otherwise, you’d like to be, “Why are they feeling so confused about things? They’re good?!? They’re No. 1 somewhere, they have so much stuff, why are they worried?” People always talk about that. But if you are a true fan of BTS and you buy the album and you listen to the hidden track — if you are an Army and we spent time together from 2013, 2014 — they could understand. It’s kind of more special, more closer, to our true hearts"

What about "Letter"?

In conclusion, hidden tracks for BTS, are something between them and their real fans who know about the path they have wended, therefore they can open up to them through lyrics and talk about their fears and struggles and ambitions without being judged or misunderstood. Also, we have to debunk some of the misconceptions going around (especially after the release of FACE) about hidden tracks. For example, some claimed that Letter is made for fans because hidden tracks are always supposed to be “gifts” for fans. This claim obviously can’t be true when you are able to listen to a hidden track legally, only by purchasing the physical album. Gifts are supposed to be free of charge, like Promise, Still with You, Christmas Love, My You, and so on. 

Then what about “Letter”? Why this song is a hidden track in Jimin’s first solo album? Did Jimin want to say something by hiding this track in FACE? To answer this questions, we need to pay attention to the lyrics and how the song was made:

 [Verse 1] What should I say? And how should I convey it? I'm really not getting my words right I know it sounds so clichéd So that it's not taken lightly Let me say it to you properly [Chorus] I say oh-oh, I hope you can be happier You, who stretched your hand out to me whenever I fell I say oh-oh, I'll hold it now (I'll hold it) So when you feel like crying, you won’t fall [Verse 2] After all this time has passed Will we still be the same? Just like we were when we first met, hmm-mmm If we are together, even the desert could turn to a sеa Just like how we were then, oh-hoo-ooh [Chorus] I say oh-oh, I really hope that it’ll last forever You, who felt like a warm spring to me in a cold winter I say oh-oh, I'll always cherish it All those moments between you and I [Refrain] Baby, don't leave Just stay by my side, yeah To you, who see me bigger than what my little self is (to you) So that I can give as much as I’ve received (oh-oh) So that I can keep my word (oh-oh) Don't worry, just stay by my side, yeah (Yeah) We don’t know what the future holds (holds, yeah) And that’s scary and makes us afraid (oh-oh) But don’t forget that we’re always together (don't forget) [Outro] I know it sounds so clichéd So that it's not taken lightly Let me say it to you properly

The Feelings

If you compare these lyrics to "Path" and "Sea" you can clearly see the differences, and except a mention of "sea and desert" there's nothing in common between them. Letter is not a monologue about career issues, it's a romantic song. These lyrics are expressing the feelings and addresses them to an audience and appreciates them. But how was this song made?

According to Jimin, at first, SMF Pt2 was supposed to be the last track of his solo album, but in their YTC promotion and recording era when they announced that they have planned to put their group activities on rest, Jimin decided to express his feelings of the moment through a letter, and turned that letter to song lyrics. Producers liked the song so much and decided to add it in his album and that’s how “Letter” was born. Although Jimin didn’t explain much about those “feelings” and left the conclusion to us like a true artist, we all know that this song is totally different from the other tracks in his album.

All the tracks of FACE are dark and sad. Jimin’s first album is all about himself, and he talks about the painful emotions he had as an artist and a person in the past few year, but with “Letter” there is a different story. Recording Academy admitted this and wrote:

“Though the EP is technically only six songs, the physical version has an additional “hidden” track called “Letter”. The song provides an intimacy that stands out from the other FACE tracks, capturing Jimin in his best form. The lyrics are poignant and vulnerable as Jimin pleads for someone to stay (“Baby, don't leave Just stay by my side, yeah”) The biggest surprise though? Fellow BTS member Jungkook contributes vocals to harmonize with Jimin.”  

A Fan Song?

“Letter” being a “Fan Song” is a stated fact by Park Jimin himself, and there can’t be any arguments about it, but that fact doesn’t mean Jimin made this song with the thought of fans in his head and all about them. In one of my old posts, I said that a faceless crowd can’t be the muse for a romantic song, especially when that song has a "standing-out intimacy".

Another reason for calling "Letter" a fan song, is the fact that it starts at 6:13 of the album, the numbers that remind us of the debut date of BTS. We can't call this a coincidence because we know how thoughtful and punctual Jimin is. But don’t forget that 6.13 is more of BTS time than ARMY time. So, as much as you call this track a song for fans, it can be called a song for his fellow BTS members.

Why JK?

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room. Why JK was a part of this song? Did it mean something for Jimin, or did he have no other options? Jimin said that FACE is an album about himself, and he didn’t feel right about featuring other artists in it, that’s why he decided to record SMF Pt2 all alone and do all the rap parts by himself instead of featuring Yoongi in it. He collaborated with several producers and songwriters (including Namjoon), but there was no featured artist in the whole album.

About the background vocals of the album, he did most parts by himself, and for the other parts, he worked with artists who already had credits in his album, such as BLVSH, Sumin, and James Keys. But JK didn’t have anything to do with Jimin’s album. Jimin was fully capable of doing the background vocals of Letter by himself, as he did for the first parts of the song. Jimin never really explained why he decided to have JK in the song, other than saying their voices match. This known fact doesn’t give us much information, but we can have our speculations. 

Closer Than This?

Another thing that questions the idea of “Letter" being inspired by fans, is the existence of “Closer Than This”. The newest release of Jimin is the exact definition of a fan song, the lyrics are straightforward and directly address the fans and leave no place for speculation. If CTT is the result of Jimin getting inspired by his fans, then “Letter” must be inspired by something different because these two songs are not comparable. 

The difference becomes more obvious when we look at the initial version of the Letter lyrics in Jimin’s drafts. I wonder what the Grammy journalist who called the final lyrics of “Letter” intimate would have said if they read this: 

You hugged me tightly Only you who protected me Hold my hand, hold my hand tightly You who reached out my hand You held out your hand to me

We don’t know what was going on in Jimin’s mind when he wrote these, but we can see that the initial lyrics have been moderated, and the intimate parts, which clearly refer to a person, didn’t end up in the final lyrics. FYI, I’m doing a lyric analysis here, and this is not a complaint or conspiracy theory because Jimin said that he liked the way the final version came out, and it's all that matters.

For Fans, Not About Fans

So far we made it clear that "hidden tracks" are not about fans, they are for fans like any other BTS song, but the hidden tracks are a secret between the artist and the fan, something that only the true and dedicated fan can understand, and this applies to Jimin's "Letter".

Jimin gave up on many records for streaming and buying by releasing this song as a hidden track in his album. So, there must be an important message in this song that he wanted to convey to the true fans. He did his share of being thankful to fans by CTT, and I don't think he needed to do it twice in a year.

Maybe you prefer to think Jimin just made this song for ARMY and hid it in the album as a surprise or because it didn’t match with the whole concept of FACE, and you might not be wrong about any of that. But, don’t forget that he didn’t explain anything about this, and we both are just making assumtions.

Yes, maybe Jimin didn't acknowledge JK being a part of Letter in his promotion era, but JK did everything he could for his share. A few hours before the release of FACE, he started a live and played a part of it with his guitar, and months later, he watched Jimin's live performance for Festa while harmonizing with it and reminding us that he knows the lyrics very well. In Jimin's documentary he was very supportive and even teased for a live performance with him in future.

Why Just Jikook?

Jimin and Jungkook are not the only members of BTS. But I don't know why everytime Jimin or JK do something with romantic undertones, the fans (OT7 ARMYs, to be more specific) immediately try to label it as "About ARMY". I usually don't see this energy with the other five members. I'm perfectly sure they are also very grateful for ARMY, they have released several songs about them, and they would have loved to collaborate in a fan song with Jimin, too.

Then why Jimin only included JK in Letter? Why he wanted to sing for "ARMY" with him? Unless we assume Jimin's gratitude towards ARMY has connections with JK, and I don’t even want to bring up 2019 "I am army" jokes. But "Letter" is the song the most optimistic Jikookers didn't expect to exist. You may try to ignore and normalize it, but you can't deny the fact that Letter proved Jikook's unbreakable connection as two harmonic colleages, long time friends, and inseparable souls.

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Ten (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Hope you like this next instalment! It’s a long one, and it’s a flashback, so it feels like a HUGE RISK to shove this in so far into the story. However, this memory of Santiago’s and reader’s is SO vivid in my mind I feel I could basically use it as a patronus charm. Therefore, if you’re at all invested in these two by now, I do feel like the payoff is worth it, and that it will set you up PERFECTLY for the next, concluding chapter! (Also: ooh, intrigue, as we get to see how they were with each other back in their youth, you know?). Anyway, as always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. ILY :-*

P.s. there’s a timeline goof as a song mentioned in this, although recorded in ‘88, was not released until 2015. But we’re just gonna look past that, okay? 😝 In this world it was released early. 

AND I have nothing against Philadelphia!

Word count: 16.6k for this part. (SORRY!)

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Many years earlier

Santiago is tired. Ready to crawl into the cocoon of his bed and draw the covers over his head, refusing to surface again until he’s dragged feet first outta there. Unfortunately for him though, sleep is not on the cards. 

Instead, he has a vitally important mission to attend to. And, in the face of a mission, this particular soldier never settles for anything less than completion. That doctrine is especially true - he has proven time and again - when it comes to taking care of you. 

Tonight, Santiago is tasked with making your birthday a memorable one; or, as memorable as he can muster with the $40 he currently has to his name. 

“Civilian aircraft, man. Where’s a goddamn helo when you need one?” you fruitlessly complain as he nods along in sympathy.

Evidently, sleep is the last thing on your mind. You’d been looking forward to cutting loose for weeks, with this night touted as “the birthday to end all birthdays”. Serendipitously, this was the first time your birthday had coincided with a period of leave since you signed up to serve and, thwarting all that, your connecting flight was grounded unexpectedly.

Santiago feels crushed - on your behalf - that the plans have gone so pear-shaped. 

“One o’ these days, getting shot for the Motherland will gain me some fucking privileges, huh?”

Santiago flinches at that particular addition. He doesn’t like to think about that day. That day’d had him waking up in frequent cold sweats going on a year now. He’d put himself on the line countless times - no problem- but almost losing you had been decidedly different. Had been the single most terrifying moment of his career (and his life) to date, all told. Which sure was saying something considering the hairy situations he routinely found himself in. 

Graciously, your present circumstances are considerably less dire. You’ve still been griping, of course. And, your complaints have not succeeded in changing a damn thing. It is now abundantly clear - if it wasn’t already - that the two of you are stranded for the night. So, here you are, holed up in a dingy and characterless airport motel in Philadelphia. 

It beats enemy fire, for sure… but even so, Santiago is acutely aware of how much you’ve been looking forward to this. To the rare chance to catch-up with your far flung squad mates, scattered every which way across the globe since graduating basic. He knows too, that the anticipation of this reunion had acted as your glue - had held you together - through what had been a particularly brutal deployment. 

“I haven’t seen Miller in months, man. I need to give that bastard some grief soon or I’m going to lose my damn mind.” 

“We can call that pendejo tomorrow,” Santiago soothes, popping a stick of gum and beginning to chew obnoxiously. “Hey. We can even pool our insults, huh? Really get him going.” 

You raise your palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. “Shit. I just miss the fucker, Santiago.” For the first time tonight he hears your voice break, your stoicism cracking apart and revealing your soft middle. 

“I know. I know you do, sweetie.”

Santiago knows how crushed you are. And so, for whatever it’s worth, the man resolves to show you the best night he possibly can, all circumstances considered. 

“Come on,” he encourages, kneeling before you as your lower lip quivers. He plants a hand on your thigh and jostles your leg gently. Meanwhile, you sit slumped on the long edge of the lumpy motel bed, beginning to feel rather more sorry for yourself. “You and me, baby. I’ll make this night special, I swear. Just give me a chance, huh?” 

“How?” you sound, throwing your palms up and gesturing to your dismal surroundings. “This place is barely even a step-up from the barracks.” You eye a particularly suspect stain on the carpet with disdain. “Actually, I think it might even be a step down.”

Santiago’s face crumples obediently in a measured display of sympathy, but honestly, his first instinct is to chuckle. You look so forlorn in this moment, Santiago has to consciously suppress his smile. You are the most stubborn, ferocious, determined person he’s ever met. You are fucking tough. Hell, he’s seen Staff Sergeants buckle in a crisis before you’ve even come close to breaking - and yet here you are. Almost in tears because you can’t make your birthday party. It’s all a little incongruous to him that out of everything, this would be the thing to take you down. 

At the same time though, of course. He understands it perfectly. 

Santiago has understood for a long time now that you possess a (well-concealed) softer side. Knows it better than most others do, in fact. As you’ve gradually allowed him to sneak past your militia-guarded perimeter -only a soldier of his calibre capable of making it, he’d wager - he’s begun to catch more and more frequent glimpses of the achingly soft heart you guard within. If your tough exterior had initially magnetised him to you, it was your soft heart which ensured he’d stuck around.

Solemnly then, he pats your thigh in a consolatory gesture. Of course, Santiago gets it. He knows it isn’t the presents or the attention or fuss which you’ll miss tonight - though they would have gone over well too, he’s sure. He knows that it is your brothers (in arms, if not blood) that you are feeling the loss of. The squad mates you love dearly, and to whom you are loyal with a tenacity Santiago has rarely witnessed. A loyalty he too feels blessed -strictly in the lapsed Catholic sense - to be on the receiving end of. 

Valiantly fighting back glassy tears, you pop your lower lip in a display of petulance as he rubs reassuring circles into your knee. “Philly sucks ass.” 

This time, he can’t quite quash his smile all the way. 

“Philly sucks ass, huh?” he repeats, buying himself time to think. 

Santiago isn’t sure whether you know that for a fact. He isn’t even sure you’ve ever been to Philly before to assess how much ass it does or does not suck. But, he does know that, irregardless of facts, you seem altogether determined to wallow in your self-pity. 

Santiago has noticed this about you. How you always developed an inalienable picture in your head of how you hope things will end up. It’s inspirational at times - your ability to visualise victory, for example, even in the most dire of circumstances, has held missions together. Has held him together. At other times though, it only set you up for disappointment. How could it not, when, through no fault of your own, you cannot reliably manifest the various futures you set your heart on. 

It’s not as though you ever ask for a lot; but sometimes, in your profession, even asking for a little is asking far too much. 

Still, it is brave, Santiago thinks, to hope for things. For his part, he has learned the hard way not to hope for anything much. 

Your shoulders sag in time with his as he exhales a breath and, though your display is dejected, Santiago gathers a soft smile. You are stubborn, that’s for sure, but in him you’ve met your match - or so he likes to think. Santiago is perhaps the only person who could reasonably claim the title of being twice as stubborn as you are, and (while he realises deep down he probably shouldn’t wear that as a badge of honour) he has often pushed his theory to its limit. And so, stubbornly, refusing to give up, Santiago rises to standing. He fishes around in his jeans pocket, yanks out a fistful of dimes and small bills, and brandishes them victoriously. 

He waves them enticingly in front of your face then, but you forlornly swat them -and him- away. However, he knows from the dull, reluctant spark in your eyes when he makes his pitch that he is finally on to something. “I saw some peanut butter cups in the hallway vending machine,” he sing-songs, with a hopeful raise of his eyebrows. He knows fine well they’re your favourite, and he can’t believe he’d forgotten his secret weapon: chocolate. “We can clean them out, take a cab, find some shitty ass dive bar, and have ourselves a sweet ol’ time. Whaddya say?” 

Nothing else had worked, and so Santiago is eminently thankful when a smile finally twitches your mouth. Honestly, he’d been about one attempt away from offering to eat you out all night - and he hadn’t been sure whether that would’ve made you happy, or would’ve resulted in you verbally lambasting him.

On balance, he figured it was probably best that he didn’t risk either kind of tongue-wagging. 

“Fine,” you concede whilst swallowing a mischievous grin, not at all eager to let on that Santiago has finally cracked you. “But don’t you be expecting to muscle in on my Reese’s, understood?” 

Santiago chuckles warmly, slipping into Spanish. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Birthday Princess.”

You snort at your newly bestowed title, playfully adjusting an invisible crown on your head, and you extend your palm towards his to shake on it. The gesture, as Santiago’s palm over-enthusiastically clasps yours, causes dimes and bills to scatter chaotically to the floor. A shit-eating grin etches itself across his face and meanwhile, your boisterous laugh rings out through the tight space. “Shit, Pope. Don’t drop it on this grim-ass fucking carpet.”

“It’s been worse places, trust me.”

“Yeah. Your fucking pocket?” 

“No shithead, I won it from Catfish.”

“And you don’t know where the hell he’s been?”

“The opposite. I shared a bunk with that hijo de puta, I know exactly where he’s been.”

With easy laughter eddying between you now, you both crouch, carefully gathering up the spoils of the latest Pope/Catfish wager to change hands. 

“I really need to meet that guy.” 

“Sweetie, you’ve met him.” 

Your hand brushes Santiago’s as you transfer him a mess of coins, sending a trail of goosebumps shivering up his arm. It always surprises him how soft you feel to the touch, accustomed as he has become to his own calloused hands - and to those of even rougher men than him. 

“Garcia. I swear to you I’ve never clapped eyes on the bastard.”

“You just don’t remember him.” 

“Shit. Well maybe he’s not very fucking memorable. Jog my memory. What did we talk about?” 

His shit-eating grin is back. “I dunno. But I bet you talked for the both of you.”

“Hey!” you protest, batting Santiago lightly -more or less- in the upper arm. 

“I just mean he’s quiet. Takes a while to warm up, that’s all. But he’s a good guy. You’ll like him, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You shove the remaining dime into Santiago’s palm.

“Okay?” 

“He’s clearly special to you, so he’s special to me too. Introduce me to him. Again.” 

Santiago smiles at you, gentle crinkles forming around his eyes. He’s already told Frankie so much about you, and he really thinks the two of you will get on. “Deal.” You both stand, and Santiago once again extends his cash-filled hand towards you. 

With a cheeky grin you chide him, not eager for a repeat calamity, but your tone is fond. “Don’t you dare shake on it, idiota.” 

Your smile digresses to your eyes. You extend your palm to pat him on his stubbled cheek - in a gesture weighing heavily with affection. Your lips animate, and Santiago wonders whether something sentimental might actually come to the fore. 

You whisper, low. “You have thirty seconds to get me my peanut butter cups.” 

He chortles and, for the first time (perhaps since imagining his head between your legs), Santiago is eminently excited to see where the night will lead him. 

Safe to say, he might be dog-tired… but he finally feels like staying awake. 

***

Despite your very vocal distaste for the music, and the clientele, and…well, just about everything in the first dive bar you and Santiago stumble across, the combination of cheap beers and even cheaper shots has succeeded in getting you efficiently merry. And, despite your earlier reticence, you now seem plenty eager to continue the party. 

Considering he could only afford cab fare from the motel to a dead neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city, it wasn’t going too badly, he thought. Though, Santiago had hastily steered you outta the first joint when a group of creeps had started leching on you. He knows you can handle yourself and he wouldda been happy to back you; but tonight especially, conflict is the last thing he wants for you. He figures you’ve had more than enough of that to last a lifetime. That you finally deserve a little peace. So, instead, he links your arm in his to keep your tipsy ass steady as he steers you down the main drag, desperately searching his mind - and scanning the unfamiliar streets - for what to do next. 

His mission, as it stands, is to satiate your threefold desire - for drinks, dancing, and good music. Tricky, given that he is already down to $10 dollars, give or take - and he’ll need that for the cab ride back to the crummy motel. 

Truth is, as he ambles with you for a few blocks, he is running out of ideas for how to show you a good time. What’s more, ever since he first entertained the idea, in his desperation, all his dumb ass can come up with is to offer to eat you out until morning. It’s pretty much becoming an intrusive thought at this point and, as the sordid image of you spread out for him further invades his mind, he quickly tries to blink it away. 

He doesn’t want to be that guy. You receive more than enough unwarranted attention as it is. And besides, Santiago would never want you to misinterpret that the reason he hangs around is to -eventually- get in your pants. 

You are so much more than that to him. Sometimes, he even has to keep his distance, so that in moments of weakness he doesn’t forget it. 

You’d held him at arms length for a while there too. 

Soldiers; not friends. 

He hadn’t won you over, he knew, because of his sparkling wit and charm. You’d been drawn to him because he was competent. Surprisingly level-headed for someone so baby-faced. You’d wanted people you could work with. People you could trust to get the job done; because you had to trust them with your life. 

The two of you have some undeniable chemistry, that’s for sure. At least, on his end, he’d felt something fierce and magnetic right out of the gate. Even so, from the outset, and even as your friendship had deepened, the two of you had seemed to quickly forge a tacit agreement. 

Friends; not lovers. 

You had made the assessment quickly, jointly, unconsciously. After all, under the rather intense circumstances in which you’d met? You’d each needed a friend - a genuine friend - far more than you’d needed a lay. For you especially, as he understood it, the former had been far more difficult to secure than the latter, especially as a woman in a highly-charged cesspit of toxic masculinity. And for him? Well, as talented as Santiago is at gaining connections, he doesn’t find all too many people he is willing to go deep with. To trust - and he trusts you with his life. 

When he’d found you then, he’d grabbed firmly on to you, and had resolved that nothing would get in the way of the friendship you’d forged. Not even - or perhaps especially not - his own… urges. 

Still. It’s not like he’s never thought about it. Not like you’ve never gotten him a tad… flustered. Indeed, as the rhythm of your steps marching in time beside him lulls him into calmness, feeling safe, his mind wanders in precisely that direction. 

So what though? He’s only human, right? Prone to fantasising; like he is now, he supposes, as he thinks vaguely about licking and kissing down your enticing, bare expanse of stomach. About popping the button on those low slung jeans. Shimmying them down over your hips just enough to sink his mouth over the mound of you and suck. 

Fuck. Focus, pendejo. You need something. 

He swallows then, feeling guilty for being such a horndog, and he turns to you. You seem to be perfectly content. To be enjoying the hit of fresh air, the apples of your cheeks sheened, with a subtle glow, from the exertion of your dance moves back in the dive bar. And honestly? Looking at you? As guilty as he feels for thinking about you like that, Santiago can’t muster a single better idea of what to do with you. 

He pushes it down, of course. Chalks it up to being just a tad pent-up following a seemingly endless deployment. That’s all it is, right? His dick is just looking for a little relief, and you are the closest, attractive body capable of providing him a warm welcome? 

Sure, he rationalises. That’s all it is. He can find a girl one night soon and take her home, like he’s done plenty of times before to work out his urges. Except for the fact that seeing you out of those (helpfully) modest fatigues is reminding him you are exactly his type. 

“You’ve gone quiet, Pope,” you frown as he -no doubt- looks at you dopily. “What are you plotting?” 

With your question, Santiago tears himself violently from his thoughts as you interrupt their increasingly feral trajectory. Still, in scrambling for a deflection, all he is able to land on is something else deep and wet. “The Mariana Trench,” he fumbles. 

Hell. Maybe he isn’t quite as smart as he gives himself credit for. Or, maybe all the blood is simply rushing to his crotch instead of his brain - for some reason. 

Even so. He urges himself to get his mind out of the gutter and to focus up. You deserve so much more than bearing the brunt of his accumulated sexual frustrations. So. Much. More. 

You laugh at his response though, oblivious as you are to his inner monologue, even linking your arm into his more tightly - as though he isn’t a huge perv. Your bright, infectious, beer-addled laugh bounces off of the surrounding asphalt and concrete. And, whilst it ricochets off of everything else, it sinks into him, mixing just a little more of you into his generic, rapidly dissolving fantasy. It offers a luminous gilding around the edges of his hazy desire, stirring in a vivid and more golden want than he has strength in this moment to acknowledge - never mind name. 

“Okay, weirdo. Sure. You’re thinking about the butt crack of the ocean? Miller been feeding you National Geographic documentaries again? You guys do know pay-per-view exists, right?” 

“Fine. You got me,” he confesses, your paces slowing as you gradually halt by the crosswalk, the two of you realising you have no particular destination in mind. “That was bullshit. I was actually thinking about what the hell I’m gonna do with you next.” 

Well… That isn’t a lie. Not exactly. 

Santiago looks you up and down where you stand, out of habit more than anything - a result of that now familiar “buddy up” system soldiers make use of to check each other for injuries. Sometimes, with the adrenaline and the shock, you don’t even know you’re bleeding out. This time, thankfully, the only ailment Santiago notices is the goose flesh prickling your skin, and he wishes that he had a jacket to offer you to keep you warm. 

“Oh?” You turn your body in to face him. Sway just a tad, eyes a little bleary, and Santiago instinctually plants his hands around your waist to keep you stable, touching on the smooth, bare skin where your ratty old band tee fails to meet your waistband - by approximately the width of four thick fingers. You shiver even though his touch must be warm. “Okay. Well what are you going to do with me, Santiago?” 

You blink at him then, your eyes wide and - dare he say - hopeful, one eyebrow arcing in idle curiosity. 

You are typically the decisive one. You are always clear on what you want. Tonight, however, it is evident that you are counting on him to lead you somewhere. 

Even though he doubts his ability to take the lead, rather fortuitously, Santiago does (miraculously) manage to stumble upon one single idea outside of the realm of cunnilingus… “Hey, come here,” he coaxes, taking your hands in his. “Close your eyes.” You oblige him, folding your grip around him, firm and sure. His heart swells a little at the instant, implicit trust you exhibit - no hesitation. “Do you hear that?” 

Santiago’s eyes remain open, observing you as your eyes blink clumsily shut. You slide your soft hands up his forearms, bracing yourself with a gentle “woah”, no doubt as the closing of your eyes makes your alcohol-saturated world sway and swirl just a little more intensely. “Listen, cariño,” he scolds good-naturedly, cupping his palms at your elbows. “Do you hear it?”

He can’t help but smile as your face scrunches in adorable contemplation. Then, he can’t help smiling even wider, as you begin to tap his arms and jump excitedly up and down on the spot. You hear it too then. The distant thud of music bouncing off of the tall buildings. 

“Music!” you exclaim excitedly, opening your eyes and grinning at him, still bouncing on the spot like an excited kid. 

The full beam of your unfiltered smile knocks him for six for second. It has been a while, honestly, since he’s seen it glow that bright. Turned all the way up. You’d gone through some shit on this deployment. Blood, horror, pain; rinse and repeat. Some of your spark had understandably dulled, and honestly, he had worried -in part, a little selfishly- that it might never come back to its full strength.

Boy. He’s glad to be proven wrong. 

Santiago had quickly come to learn that you possess a singular combination of character traits - and not only the magical ability to piss him off more than anyone else could. No, in fact, he’d learned quickly that you possess a singular kind of zest for life. One which he’d feared was too pure to survive long in the dark. Honestly, he’d believed your optimism and your joy was naive at first. Something to be knocked out of you in boot camp. But he was wrong so far. At every turn you endure. At every turn, you shine. As he feels increasingly bogged down, saturated with inky, oily shadows, you are bright. His guiding light, always calling him home from the edge of the dark, shadow-coiled path he skirts. 

“Do we follow it?” you ask excitedly, the glint of adventure in your bright eyes, and in that moment he could swear he’d follow you anywhere. 

“Yeah. Of course we follow it. It’s our goddamn duty to follow it.” Santiago stomps his boot and waves his arm in a sloppy military salute - the kind that would earn him fifty push-ups back at base. You follow suit, even more sloppy, but entirely resolute in your faux seriousness. 

“Tonight, I swear my oath and pledge my allegiance to music, so help me God.” 

Santiago stomps emphatically again, for effect - an overblown, cheesy action-movie-style salute, his strong jaw set in an overly caricatured display. You beam again, a face-splitting grin, and he…

…realises he is having fun. 

In this moment, you are giddy. You are bright. Full of life, and Santiago briefly wonders if this is how things could be. If it could be like this all the time if only you could get out. If you could leave the military behind. God. You are the last person he wants to lose from his side, but a knot twists in his stomach at the thought you should get out while you still can. Before it drags you down like it is him. Before he drags you down with him, since you’ve seemingly tied your fates to his with red bloodied ribbons, wound between your bones and his. 

He doesn’t have much time to consider those things though. To let the blood seep into the edges like it always does; because you start running. You take Santiago’s hand in yours and run towards the distant thud of noise, leading him behind you and laughing and whooping as you do. Making a grey night in a grey part of town feel vibrant. Making him feel vibrant by association. He realises only then how numb he’s felt lately. How your buoyant smile had been the only thing to feed his own these past months. 

You are so much more than a throwaway fantasy to him. 

You truly are the friend he’s needed so desperately, and feels so, so lucky to have found. 

He runs with you, and he hopes, silently, selfishly, somewhere in the pit of him, that your paths never wind in different directions. 

He’ll follow you anywhere. 

***

After a few, giddy, chaotic minutes of tracing the ricocheting sounds, you find yourselves in the lobby of a seedy hotel, breaths sawing in and out of your lungs and mirthful, intermittent giggles spilling out of you. 

“I’m on the guest list!” you insist with a hiccough, trying your utmost to blag your way into the wedding party contained beyond the double doors; the established source of the music. 

Your assertion is much to the chagrin of the teenaged, stoner-looking kid on the front desk, who is clearly milking his new-found authority for all it’s worth. 

“Sure, lady. Then what’s your name?” 

Santiago looks at you expectantly, his arm slung casually around your shoulders, his chest already shaking and nose scrunching with a mildly tipsy, sleep-deprived concoction of mischief. 

“The name’s Trench,” you deadpan, and the poor fellow actually begins to skim his index finger down the alphabetised list. “Mariana Trench.” 

Santiago eyeballs you. Honestly, half of him is awed by your balls, even as the other half is despairing of your chosen (and completely unnecessary) alias. Still, he sees the funny side, of course, and has to swallow a hearty laugh by faux coughing into his fist. 

There are not many factors helping your case here; especially the fact your body is already unconsciously bopping along to the music. Santiago has to physically encourage you back to your spot with his arm around your middle, and, as the rhythm continually beckons you forth, he hastily tucks you into his side in a fruitless attempt to subdue you. 

By the time Santiago’s gaze flicks back to the kid at the desk, he’s folded his arms over his chest like a stern math teacher, clearly enjoying his upper hand. “Dude,” the kid probes sceptically, perhaps sensing that Santiago is the more sensible (or at least more sober) of the two of you. “What are the names of the bride and groom?” 

“Nicole and Dio,” Santiago fires off smugly, causing you to first gasp and - second - to gawk at him like a fish (which is funny, because for all you know he’s made those up too). 

“How did you know that?” you hiss-whisper, thinking you are being oh so subtle, and Santiago elbows you discreetly in the ribs for your trouble. This time though, he is unable to stifle his laughter entirely, a throaty chuckle shaking out of him, and the crinkles around his eyes rehearsing deeper future furrows. 

Meanwhile, whilst the kid at the desk continues to eye him sceptically, he cannot refute Santiago’s knowledge. The soldier silently praises his undeniable powers of observation - and the fact the kid seems to have entirely forgotten about the huge fuck-off sign standing in the entrance lobby. 

“Yeah. Still no.” This kid is a tough nut. 

“Shit,” you plead. “Well can I at least use the restroom?” 

“I guess that’s fine,” the kid concedes with an eye roll, gesturing towards the left hand side of the lobby. 

You saunter off, beelining towards the door with such ferocity that you whack your hip off of the doorframe on the way in there. 

Santiago winces in time with your “ouch!”, but as you throw your arms in the air, triumphantly insisting you are fine, he turns his attention back to his mission; to get you whatever you want for your birthday. 

Sporting the friendliest smile he can muster in the full knowledge this kid behind the desk hates him already, Santiago mosies up to the counter. 

“Come on, buddy. Hook us up,” he reasons. “It’s a Tuesday night and everywhere else is closed by now.” 

“Dude, your attempts to get laid are not my issue.” 

“No. No, it’s… She’s my friend. It’s her birthday and-”

“-Then take her to a fucking Chilli’s, bro. Still not my problem.” 

Santiago huffs, still trying to keep his face neutral. Non-threatening. He needs to step things up before you return from the restroom. 

“Listen, buddy.” The kid scowls at him then as if to confirm - I’m emphatically not your buddy. “Do you know what it’s like to be shot in service of your country?” 

“What?!”

He nods behind him, in your general direction, his eyebrows pumping up towards his hairline (and reaching for a hasty explanation before the kid presses the under-desk alarm button). “Because she does.” Santiago rests his folded arms up on the counter. Leaning-in. Going all out with the eye contact. “When I tell you she’s had a shitty time of it? Lying on the ground, bleeding out. So, look, man. I just want to give her a good time tonight, alright? Would you please help me out, man? She’s fucking earned this.”

A gulp trails down the kid’s neck, and he tucks his long, straight blonde hair behind his ears. “You’re intense, bro. Anyone ever told you that?” 

Santiago opens his mouth again, wishing to further embellish his case; but before he can do so the kid caves, waving his palms in total surrender. “Fuck, man. Do what you want, but for the love of God, would you just stop talking to me?”

“Great. Thank you. I mean it.”

“Yep. Whatever. Don’t get paid enough for this shit, bro.”

Santiago hears the door swing behind him, and joins you just in time to lead you further into the building, pleased that he is able to report victory. He’s almost forgotten about the front desk already - until the kid calls after him, growing bolder the further you two retreat, apparently. “This is why I’m a pacifist, dude! You might wanna think about it.” 

“Sure thing,” he calls back over his shoulder. “I’ll give it some consideration.”

Then, Santiago gently ushers you into the corridor leading towards the party, taking a moment to celebrate his “smooth-talking”. Before he can even think about bragging though, you throw your arms up in the air in a tada gesture and exclaim “you are welcome!”. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you you’d had no part in getting past the gate, and so instead, he opts to finally vent his quashed laughter. The fact you’d name-dropped Mariana Trench, specifically, supplies a giggle hearty enough that it makes his abs ache.

“Oh. By the way. How do I look?” you question, when the two of you are just shy of making an entrance to the main hall. 

Santiago turns to you and looks you up and down. Notices the fresh application of smeared red over your plush mouth. Surveys your jeans and tee with approval, as though you are outfitted in a gown. “Good, chica.” 

“Good!” You step forward then, towards him, and lay your palms flat on his upper chest. “Now. You know what I wanna do?” For a split second, with your proximity, and the husky thrall of your voice, Santiago finds himself imagining what you might want to do to him - if he should be so lucky. “I wanna dance. Will you dance with meeee, Santiaaaaggooo?” 

Santiago feels a lump lodge itself in his throat. Tries hard to forget that… well… red lipstick and dancing? They are - more often than not -  your highly decipherable code for being horny. Shit - he wonders if you are as pent up as he is. 

“You got it!” he musters, getting himself quickly in check. Christ, he needs to prioritise getting laid  - just as soon as he is no longer wholly dedicated to your birthday. 

“Yay!” 

You lead him by the hand and, once again, Santiago does not complain. Then, swinging open one of two double doors, plastered with unsightly fire regulations, you enter the fray. 

The doors open on a busy room, bathed in beams of chaotic coloured light. In reality, the interior is drab. A sad, grey, carpeted room. A few busted ceiling tiles up top. The circular event tables are flanked by a sorry stage at one side - fronted by a sticky, modest square of dance floor - and a small bar at the other. Finally, the far wall is edged with a rather depleted buffet, and intermittent bowls of greying macaroni. Whilst the room itself is nothing to write home about, however, the jubilation inside makes it feel positively wonderful. 

Santiago feels only for a split second like he is intruding. Within moments, he is all wrapped-up in the buzz. Enveloped by it. The band’s amps are turned up far too loud. The dance floor is awash with couples gyrating on each other and groups of singles circling each other, looking for an in. Throngs of friends and family are grouped throughout the room, laughing and chatting, taking photos on disposable cameras and clinking glasses, and when the two of you enter, matching smiles plastered on your faces, no-one even bats an eye. 

“We’re really doing this?” Santiago raises his voice above the tremor of the music. “Crashing a fucking wedding?”

“Relax! It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever done, Garcia. It’s not even against the Geneva Convention.” 

“Jesus! I’m not a fucking war criminal!”

“Relax, Santiago,” you encourage, tone soothing and your hands massaging into his shoulders; and, finally, he lets himself. For once, he lets his guard down. So, as you travel deeper into the room, Santiago begins to move a little less like a soldier on patrol, and allows his gait to loosen up. Allows himself to approach the room not as a soldier on high alert, but simply as some guy with his buddy, looking for a good time. “Attaboy,” you encourage, seeing him visibly unclench - a rare thing. “We’re good, alright? Hey. I’ll even leave a pack of Reese’s on the table. That way, we even brought a gift.” 

“And you’ll keep a low profile, right?” 

“Of course!” You flash him a faux innocent grin, which he sees right through. 

Yeah, figures, he thinks. Honestly, he isn’t sure you are capable of blending in - stealth ops aside, of course. But here? Without your camo and a distinct lack of a gilly suit? Baby, look at you, you’re gonna be noticed. 

“Alright. We dance. Just keep it low key or-“

“-Sure, sure,” you dismiss, waving your hand through the air as though to erase his plea. “But first, tequilaaaa!” 

Evidently, you are ignoring him completely, and yet the beaming smile on your face is so utterly worth it that Santiago could care less. “Eh. Whatever you say, Princesa.” 

You wink at him. “Now you’re getting the idea.”

Santiago watches you skip gracelessly over to the bar, making zero attempt to blend into the crowd (unsurprising). You order up two shots, downing one instantly and handing the other to him with a jubilant, mildly devilish grin. At this stage, Santiago is deliberately a few drinks behind you, having wanted to remain sober enough to take care of you. So, he figures he has a little wiggle room remaining before he reaches the point of no return. Egged on by your encouraging nods, he tips it down the hatch. 

“Cheers!” you exclaim, clumsily clinking your little plastic shot glass against his. The remains of the amber liquid still glisten on your mouth, lending an appealing shine to your red lips. As you mop the drips away with the back of your hand, you slightly smear the shade towards your cheek. 

Before Santiago can rectify the situation for you though, you’ve once again taken his hand and trailed him behind you, clumsily weaving through the crowd as he interjects “sorry!” each time you bash - either your body or his - into someone else’s. Before long though, the two of you are safely tucked right in the midst of it all, adding to the messy, merry throng on the compact dance floor. The amateurish but jubilantly played rock covers from the band began to vibrate all the way through his chest as you position right next to the speakers. 

As the vibrations tickle through him, bass inflating like a balloon in his rib cage, drowning out his thoughts and his heartbeat, you dance. With his thoughts silenced - or, rather, out-volumed- he slips into his body as if it is his own again. As if it belongs to him, and not just to some notion of God and country. 

You, for your part, dance as if compelled to. As though, after living for so long with your body following orders, exercising control, being disciplined, staying in line, you can finally let it be free. Can finally let it express itself.  

You move well, Santiago notes as he allows his own body to limber, freeing up his arms and his hips and feeling the buzz of the music and the alcohol thrum pleasantly through his body. It all feels somewhat alien to him now, his body stiff and lacking muscle memory for such imprecise, unplanned movements. You though? You move with abandon. With joy, like you never forgot how to feel it, belting the lyrics right from your chest. Jumping and waving your arms when the guitar solo drops. 

It makes him deeply happy to see you like this. What’s more, amidst the dance floor of preened, deliberate women encircling your space, their movements seemingly contrived to be appealing, alluring, sexual, your reckless expression is far sexier to him. You feel freed, wild - and it almost feels dangerous to him. This clear absence of regiments and rules and barriers feels dangerous, even the barriers between your body and his disintegrating as you dance closer, the beat shaking you together like sand on a drum skin. 

Indeed, your bodies are pushed ever closer and closer as the surprisingly heaving crowd compresses you tighter and tighter in the minimal, sticky-floored maneuver room. And so, after you’ve suffered one too many bumps and restrictions from stray shoulders and elbows, you finally give in to it, looping your arms around his neck and choosing to dance with him. 

Instinctually, automatically, Santiago’s hands fall to your hips, gripping you there as your body sways and rolls in time to the music, the raw, dirty hard rock vocals moving through you and bedding down into your body. 

At first, when your body presses up against his and the hot breath of your laughter fans over his neck, Santiago thinks about adjusting. About sliding his hands back up to your waist, where -perhaps- the gesture may seem less intimate. May allow for a little more room and a little less contact. 

It isn’t as though the two of you are strangers to touching. You are both tactile people, and besides, you’re often in close quarters. You’ve slammed each other to the mat plenty of times. He’s had your sweaty, writhing body all over his. Your grunts of submission sounding in his ear. Huffs of exertion fanning against his neck. Thighs locked with his. His hips pinning you. But this? This is a little different. It isn’t precise, technical touch. It isn’t objective-driven. There are no clear rules, besides friends not lovers, and even that distinction is starting to feel a little blurry. 

No, this kinda touch is something else. It is raw. It is instinctual; and that scares him, in truth. 

However, it doesn’t scare him nearly enough to want to stop.

He does not move his hands from your rolling, swaying hips. Can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gives in to it. To the music. To the feeling. To you. And, when does, he finds himself surprised by how fluidly your bodies move together. Symbiotically. Like a team. Like you do in battle, sure. In the field. Like it is the most natural thing in the world; but this time, your combining is not at all driven by survival. It is driven by living, and Santiago could swear, in this moment, that he has never felt quite so alive. 

The room is getting hot. The undulating crowd of bodies surrounding you is only adding to it. Exertion is glowing on your skin. He can feel it up against him, your sweat bleeding through your damp t-shirt where your breasts press into him. Can feel it beneath his fingers, tacky and slick, as he wraps his hands around that bare flash of skin at your midriff. God, you are smooth, and soft, and slick, and he is momentarily transfixed by a bead of sweat sinking down the centre of your chest, disappearing beneath the “v” of your shirt. 

Someone else’s body briefly presses up against his in the crush and he cringes away from the feel of their slick skin… but you? Yours? You feel good to him. He doesn’t mind it. 

That scares him too; but still, not enough to stop. 

With a joyous, unfettered laugh you claim back some space, spinning Santiago underneath your arm, your dance moves growing increasingly outlandish. Of course, Santiago follows your lead. Always does. And, before long, the two of you can barely dance from laughing and can barely laugh from your insistence to keep dancing. 

It feels good. Good to push your respective bodies to their limit on your own terms for once. To be with each other, side by side, in a scenario which could not be further from life or death; but that feels a thousand times more vital and central to being alive. 

Seeing your smile strobe as the blue party lights slip and flash over the planes of your face, the beats and riffs pulsing through his body, Santiago feels giddy and he feels bright. With laughter bobbing in his throat and aching in his sides, he feels goddamn luminescent, and so he can’t help but wonder. Can’t help but wonder if this is how he would feel all the time. If he got out. If the two of you could just be people, instead of soldiers.

Santiago holds on to it. He holds on to you. To the feeling of freedom. Of pure, unfettered joy. Of this strange peace amidst the blurry, heavy noise. 

He holds on to it while he can. He smiles with you until his face hurts. Laughs with you until his breath wanes. Dances with you longer than he should, song after song. Dances until he is sweating through his t-shirt, a dark “v” of sweat trailing down his chest. Dances, long after that now familiar heat in his newly ailing knees has crossed into discomfort. Dances closer and closer to the speaker until the music is indistinguishable from him, beating through his chest and down into his bones, and still; the two of you move your bodies. The two of you cling to each other like your life depends on it - and perhaps, precisely because of all the times it has. 

When you lean forward, cupping his ear, your lips almost pressed right to his skin to be heard over the din, a warm snake travels down his spine. “See! We still haven’t been found out!” You draw back to flash him a mischievous grin, your eyes glinting with a spark far more warming than the heat which already slickens his skin. 

You are most definitely up to something. You dip forward again as he strains to hear you. “Wanna be a little bolder?” There is a dark and delicious lilt in your voice. A tempting thing, enticing him into trouble - as per usual. 

He does though. Wants to be a little bolder. 

He wants to kiss you, in fact. To test the limits of just how well your bodies can move together. But…  just like all the other times tonight he lets that desire atrophy. Pushes it outside of his body. You are so much more to him than the tingle in his dick. Offer him so much more than whatever parts of you he could seek out with his hands and his mouth, skin finding skin, finding deep, dark wetness. 

If you wanted it, hey, it’s not like he would say no. He isn’t that strong; but he’d decided long ago that when it came to crossing that line, he would simply follow your lead. 

“What did you have in mind?” Santiago asks, dipping his own lips towards your ear. 

Your response is not quite what he expects. You simply throw both arms up into the air, your eyebrows jumping up with them. “Karaokeeee!”

It is a pleasant surprise, to be honest. He loves to see you like this. To see you have fun. Chasing your whims. Getting to be damn silly. For so long, everything has been so grim and so serious.

However, even if your suggestion - at first - inspires a broad, nose-crinkling smile, Santiago looks up at the freestanding mic in horror next - when he realises exactly what you are about to do. “Shit. Sweetie. It’s not-” 

-It is already too late. You are already clambering up on stage and taking your position by the vacant mic spot. “…It’s not karaoke,” Santi mumbles under his breath, mentally readjusting his level on how wasted you are. 

“Come with me, Pope!” you shout down to him, making grabby hands towards him. Next, you commandeer the mic pole as the frontman - who had simply stepped out for brief swig of water - looks on in confusion. 

Santiago sighs and slides his palm over his face, for he knows, fine well, exactly what is about to go down. That, after all the times you’ve saved his skin, tended his wounds, and -damn- even been shot to keep him safe, he for sure isn’t about to let you make a fool of yourself. At least, not alone. 

Cringing already from the forceful embarrassment of commandeering an entire stage at a wedding he’s just crashed, Santiago sets his jaw in resignation and hops semi-gracefully up there, rising to stand right next to you. 

“What happens in Philadelphia…” he mumbles, before bracing himself and accepting his fate. 

He raises his arm as a shield against the intense spotlight, and can suddenly see that the whole party is looking by now, heads whipping around following your triumphant “woop” into the microphone. 

He makes a mental note to explain to you what the words “low profile” mean later, as clearly, you’ve completely failed to grasp that concept. 

Santiago gulps as he looks out across the confused sea of faces, his mouth suddenly bone dry as he prays that no-one will actually yell “who the fuck are you?” Then, not for the first time this evening, he desperately attempts to conjure up a plan of action. Once again, he is pretty sure that cunnilingus won’t quite cut it here either. 

His goal right now is two-fold. To enable you to sing on stage, like you want to, and to avoid being forcibly removed from the venue. It is unfortunate that the former goal seems to void the latter, but hey. He’s been in stickier situations. And, with luck, Santiago remembers one useful thing. The fact that -according to damn near everyone- he’s a charming little fucker. Now, he supposes, is as good a time as any to put that theory to the test. 

“Nicole and Dio.” He gestures to the bride, and motions to gesture towards the groom too. That is, before realising he has no idea who “Dio” is in the crowd, so instead, he lets his arm flop uselessly back to his side. Next, he takes what he feels is a well-earned moment to let the feedback from the microphone die, wincing slightly at the noise, and becoming acutely aware of the sizzle of nervous sweat burning off of his forehead. “I think it’s safe to say,” he ventures with a little more confidence, straining to remember his cousin’s wedding and every platitude he might repeat, “that a love like yours comes around once in a lifetime. I know I speak for both of us when we say we’d like to wish you a lifetime of happiness together to enjoy it.” You helpfully lean forward in that moment and give another celebratory woop. “Thanks for that, sweetie,” he deadpans, wiping his brow just as urgently as he scans the room, searching for something -anything- he can pull from to meet his twinned objectives. 

Suddenly though, against all odds, he actually spots his way out. Emphatically, triumphantly, he points towards the Irish flag proudly adorning the far wall, and dearly hopes he is on to something. “A million tiny things had to align for you two to come together. You could even say it was fate. So, in tribute to the miles travelled by your ancestors, here it is. This one is for the Irish-Americans in the house!” Firstly, he is relieved, to say the least, when that statement earns a hearty cheer from the crowd. “Let’s hear it for Metallica; Whiskey in the jar.” Secondly, he is relieved when that statement earns further cheers, particularly from you. 

Next, Santiago looks confidently to the band, deciding he will simply stare at them pointedly until the drums kick in. “For Nicole and Dio!” he adds with a flourish after an uncomfortably long moment of inaction; and, as the crowd gets behind Santiago, who on earth are they to deny him? 

“Everybody on the dance floor!” you add, with an enthusiasm so overblown it can’t fail to be infectious.

Still, when Santiago finally thinks he has it nailed, you turn to him with a sudden and pronounced wash of horror on your face. “Garcia. Shit. It’s not karaoke!” 

“Princesa,” he soothes as the band kicks in, wrapping his arm firmly around your waist to avert your knees buckling in fright. “If it’s not karaoke, why the shit do I have a mic and a backing track, huh?” You still look unsure. “Come on, sing it with me. You’re hot as hell up here, don’t go shy on me.” 

Santiago turns, forgetting the crowd entirely as his mission revolves wholly around you. 

He begins to sing to you, gaze soft and encouraging until you relax back into it, your broad, electric smile returning. He tugs you closer into him, snug and safe until you grow bold enough to sing along with him into your one shared mic, gradually letting go and -bolstered by him- giving it increasing amounts of gusto. 

The pool of guests at your feet are going surprisingly wild for it too, almost every one in the room having now descended on to the dance floor.

“Here,” he encourages, as soon as he feels you’re ready, handing the mic off to you for the remaining verses of the song. “You got this, sweetie.” 

He lets you have your moment in the spotlight, cheering you on from the sidelines as you sing and air-guitar your way through the final chorus. You aren’t necessarily singing at your best after belting out lyrics at top volume, but what you lack in vocal ability you sure make up for in spirit. You have bags of that, and you perform it with plenty of showmanship, throwing yourself all over the stage and making Santiago’s face split with joy as he whoops along with you, fist-pumping enthusiastically. 

You even end the song by taking a knee and exclaiming “Nicole and Dio!”, raising your mic arm triumphantly in the air like the rock star you are - which is a huge relief to Santiago, as it had looked for a moment like you were about to stage dive into the completely unsuspecting crowd. 

You wrap it up to what Santiago will later describe as rapturous applause. You milk it for all it's worth, before relinquishing the mic to the actual band and skipping over to your biggest fan. 

“Was I fucking amazing?” you ask, bundling him into an enclosing hug. 

“Holy shit. Felt like I was watching Kerrang.” 

You punch him playfully in the arm for his shit-eating grin. “Dickhead.”

“What’s next for the Birthday Princess?” Santi asks, hopping off of the stage and guiding you safely down too. 

He’s secretly praying you’ll say “back to the motel”, but it doesn’t surprise him at all when you throw your arms jubilantly into the air and yell: “more dancing!”. 

Santiago brings the pad of his thumb up to the corner of your mouth, finally smoothing away that damn lipstick smear he wishes he’d gotten to before your impromptu stage show. “Go for it, hermosa,” he insists fondly. “I’ll be with you in a sec, yeah? After pulling that shit, I don’t think we have long before we get busted. You gonna be ready to hustle soon?”

You nod, fist-bump him, and skitter off to the dance floor, your seemingly boundless energy carrying you right the way through towards dawn. 

Santiago will give this track a miss, he thinks. His knees need a goddamn time-out; but his eyes still linger on you, shining fondly as you are folded into the crowd. 

***

“Touching speech, lad,” a low-timbre voice sounds to Santiago’s left. “But who in the devil are ya?”

Santiago, who is sat blissfully nursing a glass of ice cold tap water, immediately swivels on his barstool. This puts him face-to-face with an older gentleman, of considerable stature. 

The man’s crinkled, bushy-eyebrowed face is stern; but not unkind, even as his chin juts up in challenge. Santiago rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. There is no point trying to wriggle out of this one, and he’s already sure of it. 

“Okay,” he responds, his voice slow and low and his palms raising defensively in the air. The man might be both older and frailer than Santiago, but he exudes a certain authority which trumps his own youthful confidence. In short, Santiago certainly doesn’t want to piss him off. “You got me. It’s a long story, and we weren’t technically invited… but we don’t mean any trouble, Sir. And, hey, we did bring a gift,” Santiago adds for good measure, not entirely convinced that the mushed up peanut butter cups in your jeans pocket will make any shade of difference now - but hoping. 

The man presses his lips together and hums, as if mulling over the guilty party’s fate. After a moment of contemplation though, the older gentleman unceremoniously releases some of the rigidity from his body, slumping down into Santiago’s neighbouring bar stool with a sense of resolution. A gulp trails down Santiago’s neck all the same. “You a military pair, kid?” the man asks casually, making-out like he’s thoroughly absorbed in rolling his cigarette papers, but his sharp eyes still finding time to needle Santiago incisively. “I know the type.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Hmm. Well.” The man licks along the long edge of cigarette paper with the tip of his tongue. “You came clean, I’ll keep quiet. Besides commandeering the stage(!), you two don’t seem like too much trouble.” 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m Colin, by the way. Nicole’s granddaddy.” The man extends a hand and Santiago shakes it. 

“Santiago. And hey, congratulations.” 

Santiago would’ve allowed some of the tension to seep out of his own rigid body by now; except for the fact he can sense the man is not quite finished with him. He lights the tip of his cigarette with a battered-looking, engraved lighter, smoke swirling around him and becoming one with his white-gray, thinning hair. “Since I’ve been so generous, lad, how’s about you explain to me the circumstances that brought you to crash my granddaughter’s wedding?” 

From the man’s unwavering stare, Santiago knows fine well this is a demand and not a suggestion. He rubs his sweaty palms together, finding himself reluctant to spill but with little apparent choice in the matter. Still, as his gaze flicks back in the direction of you, he feels a softness overcome him. “It’s her birthday. We’re on leave. Had a big trip planned to reunite with some buddies but the airport-“

“-ah. All shut down.” Colin nods in partial understanding, taking a long drag on his smoke. 

“Yes, sir. So I, uh. Well, I had to improvise.” 

Colin’s eyes flutter briefly closed. Then, a small flicker of a smile appears, as he - apparently - achieves a fuller understanding than Santiago’s divulgence should have allowed. An understanding which Santiago isn’t sure he has attained himself, as it stands. Is he missing something? “I see. You wanted to show her a good time.”  

“Yeah. Yessir.” 

To Santiago’s utter surprise, the man’s hand clasps down on top of his closest shoulder, the cigarette still pinned precariously in between his forefingers, and the smoke tangling around Santiago’s curls like future grays attempting to stick. “What are you drinking, lad?”

“Uh. Water,” Santiago replies simply, recalling the glass sweating on the bar top. 

“Not any more.” Colin signals the bartender with a barely perceptible raise of his chin, and manages to convey his order simply by raising two of his fingers in the air.

Santiago watches as a bottle, sporting an affixed yellow post-it note, is grabbed-up from its secret hiding spot under the counter. Must be the good stuff. 

When served, Colin slides one glass over to Santiago with the back of his age-spotted palm. “You don’t have to drink it, o’ course - I’ll just think you’re a rude fecker if you don’t.”

“Thank you, sir.” The two men swivel on their stools to face the bar and Santiago takes a sip, doing his best to hide his reaction to the intensity of it. 

Colin guffaws. “Yeah. That’ll put hairs on yer chest.” 

Santiago splutters, attempting to quickly smooth himself. “Cheers. To Nicole.” He hoists his glass in the air. 

“Aye. Here’s to that.” 

Santiago smiles, clinking his glass with Colin’s and hoping against all odds that you might come and rescue him soon. 

You don’t, but mercifully the chat is suspended for a moment as the man coiffs his cigarette and his drink, and Santiago even suspects he has been forgotten entirely as another guest draws Colin into niceties and conversation. 

Therefore, after a few warming swigs have slipped down his throat, each one followed by a grimace, Santiago turns, realising it has been a minute since he’s had eyes on you. He quickly locates you on the dance floor, boogying with some tall, white guy. A guy who is - with your encouragement - getting rather handsy. Seeing this, all of Santiago’s muscles tighten and he feels the vague urge to leap up off of his bar stool - that is, until Colin interjects.

“Can I give you some advice?” 

Santiago’s initial thought is “no”; but he has a feeling Coilin may offer his unsolicited advice regardless. “Don’t crash weddings?” he jests half-heartedly, the lion’s share of his attention still on you and that guy’s damn hands. 

“Marry her.”

Santiago’s gaze flips immediately towards Colin, his face the picture of abject confusion. “Sorry. Who?” 

Colin chuckles to himself, evidently quite tickled, and nods his head gently in your direction. “Your lady friend.” 

Santiago saws his palm over the five-o-clock shadow adorning his jaw. A weak, throaty chuckle bobs in his throat. He finds it funny. Preposterous. “With respect, Sir. That’s not gonna happen.” It is knee-jerk. Santiago had sworn off marriage long ago. Had long ago given up on the prospect of any form of happy ending. Besides, you and him? He doesn’t think so. 

“Oh. Boyo,” Colin begins, his tone juuuust condescending enough to make Santiago stiffen. “You find someone who makes you as happy as that, you marry her. Trust me, lad.”

Santiago purses his lips. Tightens them into a thin line. “We’re not… together.” Not that it’s any of this guy’s business what you are to him; but he’s just not getting it. 

“You love her,” Colin says softly. Almost gently, as though he’s breaking bad news. 

”What?” Santiago shakes his head incredulously, blinking several times in succession. 

“I can barely see past my own arm these days, lad, but I can see that much.” 

There is that hand, clasping his shoulder again. This time it feels different. “You love her.” 

The first time Colin had spoken these words, Santiago had bristled. Felt provoked. He should feel similarly now too - he knows it - but upon hearing them for a second time, a sudden clarity settles over him. In fact, he’s never felt less confused by a statement in his life. 

He feels his mouth go dry. A sudden ringing in his ears. He could’ve sworn he had hands and feet earlier in the evening, but right now he can’t feel them. 

Of course he loves you, he thinks, reaching for logic. For rationalisations. But it’s not like that. That’s simply what happens when you go through so much together. You bond, intensely. That’s all it is. All it amounts to. 

Colin has this all wrong. 

Santiago looks at you then. Really looks at you, as you grab your dance partner by the shirt and shove your tongue in his mouth, pulling away from the kiss with a wolfish grin. Some kind of feeling he can’t hope to name tightens like a fist in his stomach when you do that. “She’s…” Santiago wants to protest. Wants to say that no, he doesn’t. But those aren’t quite the words which find their way out. Instead, he says quietly, like he’s delivering bad news now: “she’s my best friend.” 

“Ah,” Colin breathes, in a fresh tone of relief. As if satisfied. As if he has now achieved full understanding - even if Santiago has not. The older man stubs out his cig and downs the dregs of his whiskey, cheersing Santiago once more with a clink of his empty glass. “There you go then. Isn’t that the same thing?”

Isn’t that the same thing?

It is a blur from there. A blur as Colin once again outstretches his hand and Santiago obliges by shaking it, his arm feeling limp and useless like a bag of cotton-wool. It is a blur as Colin wishes him well with a jolly “take care, lad,” sauntering away with no concern for the destruction left in his wake. 

It is a blur as you sidle over, as though the volume in the room has been turned down all of a sudden. It becomes gradually louder again as you approach. 

You. 

You. 

You.

“Fuck, you okay, Garcia? You look like you’re about to puke.” 

There’s nothing here. 

Nothing with you. 

Nothing he could have with you. No way. 

“Seriously! You look queasy as hell.” You place your hand across his brow to see if he’s burning up.  

“No. ‘M good. Fine,” he says tightly. 

You nod, still looking sceptical but opting to buy what he’s selling. “You just tired? Too much dancing?”

”Heh. Something like that.” It is a struggle to push the words out, but he surprises himself. Gradually sinks himself back into the room. Back into his body. 

Santiago notices the brief spark of an idea fleet over your face as you regard him and, in the next moment, you dip forward to chastely kiss him on the cheek. He feels a deep, blooming heat develop under his skin, his cheeks darkening with a crimson flush, and he resists the urge to clamp his palm over the spot your lips touched. “What was that for?” 

A delicate smile dances on your mouth. “Thank you, butthead. I’m having a good birthday.”

It’s what you don’t say. It’s what your eyes are telling him. Your body language. Your touch. You’re telling him things you’ve been saying for a long time now. Things which, thanks to Colin, beg a whole load of new questions.

You slip your hand down his arm, grasping his hand in yours. For a moment he just stares, looking down at your hands clasped there together. He is vaguely aware of the track switching in the background, to a slower, more heartfelt tune, and, by the time he drags his eyes back-up to yours, he figures he’s got a head start already on what you’re about to ask. 

He makes it so you don’t even have to. “One more dance?” 

He stands, capturing your waist with his wrapped arm, leading you back towards the dance floor. The surprise and relief and glee on your face as he preempts you is almost too bright for him to look at. 

“You even know how to slow dance, Garcia?” you ask as he maneuvers the two of you into prime position, right in the beam of a sweeping purple spotlight, the dancefloor filling exclusively with swaying couples as the tender, swooping song resonates through the room. 

“Haven’t slow danced since prom,” he admits. “But I’ll follow your lead, Princesa.” 

“You a’ways do, asshat.” 

“You know? You’re not wrong. Now, come here.”

He holds his arms out and you step into his sturdy circumference, no hesitation. Trust implicit, your bodies moving in sync. You drape the loop of your arms gently around his shoulders, your twined fingers brushing the nape of his neck, sending a warm shudder through him. His hands hover helplessly for a moment, but he eventually settles them on your hips, drawing your body closer, tightening the space between you as you each sway together, cheek to cheek. 

“I - I can’t believe you did this for me, you know?” Your voice is lower, dropped in your throat. Heavy with solemnity as though you are thanking him for taking a bullet for you or something. “Tonight. The karaoke. Everything.” 

“Well,” he dismisses, against the shell of your ear. It’s not nearly enough.“You got shot for me, so...”

Your light, lilting laugh fans across his check. It isn’t funny at all, wasn’t a joke; except that it’s so tragic it kinda has to come full-circle, he supposes. “Fine,” you offer. “Call it even?” 

Even? 

It could never get close to even. 

Santiago feels a surge of emotion welling in him. Like suddenly there is a mechanism dredging all the settled silt back up to the surface. It rises all the way up - into his chest, into his throat. He pulls back slightly until you are face to face, his expression far more severe than the situation merits; but he can’t help it. It feels barbed, difficult, coming out of his mouth, but it needs to be said. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me, you know?” His eyes are glistening, a telltale softness nestled beneath his thick brows, and his thumbs unconsciously rubbing circles into the meat of your hips. “You’re…. I… I mean. You’re… my best friend.”

You gawp back at him for a moment, visibly caught off-guard by his emotional intensity. Then: “oh no,” you whisper-shout into the space between you, as though if you push too much sound out, the emotions might overspill along with it. “Don’t get all soppy on me, you hear? You’re the only fucker who knows I have emotions, and I damn sure wanna keep it that way.”

His gaze flits all over your face. “Secret’s safe with me, Princesa.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

He smiles at you - a smile that only reaches his eyes. 

You nestle yourself back into the crook of his shoulder, your body pressed right up against his. One hand grasping at his back. The fingers of the other clasping his shorn head, dancing over the prickled hair of his army-issue buzzcut. 

He holds you, and in turn you hold him even tighter. You hold each other tightly until you are no longer even dancing. Until you are simply an island in a sea of undulating couples, holding on to each other for dear life. 

It scares him.

It scares him to his depths that he never wants to let you go; but not enough to stop.  

As he pulls you close to him, buries his face in your neck and embraces you tightly, he thinks about it. He thinks about whether he believes in happy endings. He thinks about whether his, if he could be so lucky, would involve you. 

Those thoughts are interrupted when he feels a wetness bloom on his shoulder. Feels you jerking and sniffing against him, and he experiences your sudden outpouring of pain as acutely as though it is his own. 

“Hey. Hey,” he soothes. “What is it?”

”I’m not sad, idiot.”

”No?”

”No. It’s…” You sniff. “It’s just been so hard lately. And, you know. Tonight has been so… It’s been so…” 

He thinks he knows what you mean. Thinks he understands you completely. “Perfect?” he ventures. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Perfect.” 

He holds you as you cry. And there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go. 

***

Considering your intoxication level, the sudden onset of tiredness, and your tears, Santiago figures it’s about time to head. He manages to get you in a cab back to the motel eventually - only after you’ve visited the ladies restroom, become fast friends with an equally drunken Nicole, bestowed her with peanut butter cups, and promised to meet-up next time you’re in the city. By this point, you are already dropping, and the soporific movements of the cab have you falling asleep draped over Santiago’s lap. 

He pays the driver when you arrive, stirring you with a warm hand smoothing up and down your back. He tries to be calm. Soothes you with his voice; because he knows all too well that for someone in the military, a rude awakening is no small thing. 

He walks you to the room and helps you sit down on the bed. Tugs your boots off for you as you opt to bury your nose deep in your own armpit and sniff. 

“Ew. I need a fucking shower.” 

“Fuck that. You can shower in the morning.” 

“I stink.” 

“Trust me. You’ve smelled much worse.” He smiles softly as his comment earns an indignant snort from you, but the ire in your face is quickly snuffed as he looks up to you a little too softly. “Let’s get you dressed for bed, alright, birthday girl?” 

“Mmm hmm. Okay then.” 

He swallows a smile at seeing you in this sleepy state. It’s not often that you allow anyone else to take care of you. In fact, Santiago feels a strange surge of honour - a glow within his chest -  that tonight, he is the one who has the privilege. 

You unabashedly begin to strip off your jeans and top next, and Santiago quickly scoops up an oversized t-shirt from the gaping mouth of your hold-all. “Here,” he says, swallowing the tremor in his voice as he gathers the fabric up and guides the garment gently over your head to cover you. Gingerly passes your arms through the right holes. “That’s it. Put this on, alright? Can you get your bra out from under there?” 

You maneuver the clasp and straps beneath the cover of the shirt until you are pulling the bra out from the confines of your tee, triumphantly flinging it across the room with a soft “woo!”, to which Santiago’s lips twitch in silent amusement. 

“Need to brush my teeth at least,” you argue, holding your arms up and out - making grabby hands to signal for his help. 

“Alright. Sure. Let’s go together.” Santiago helps you stand. Maneuvers and encourages you onwards. He wraps his closest arm around your waist, and his other hand catches the arm you throw out to him so he can keep you steady.  Then, steps in sync, you pad the short distance to the bathroom, Santiago lightly directing you away from bumping your hip on the doorframe (again) as you pass through it. “That’s it. Little off course there,” he chuckles. “Almost as bad as Ironhead’s God-awful driving.” 

You turn your head over your shoulder and scold him good-naturedly. “Ouch. Don’t remind me.” 

“Yikes, sorry. Too soon?” You’d teased Will for the unfortunate humvee training exercise that had put you in med bay, but Santiago guesses you aren’t quite ready to have him joke about it yet. 

“Never getting back in a car with that bastard in the driver’s seat, trust me. Fella takes off-road a little too literally, you know? Still have that goddamn tweak in my back too to prove it.” 

“You do, huh?” Shit, you’ve certainly hidden it well enough - had insisted you were unscathed, in fact, when sober - and so Santiago mentally logs that information for later.

With a little bit of wriggling around, you squeeze into the tight bathroom space. When you reach the bathroom sink, Santiago is still behind you, his hands now clamped on your hips and keeping you steady. When you turn on the faucet and bend enthusiastically towards the stream of water however - hinging at the hips and dipping to splash your face with cold water - Santi punches out a strangled note. Which is natural, he thinks, given that your panty-clad, half-bare ass is thrust further into his hands (and his crotch), with decidedly no room in the cramped space for him to back-up. “Woah, Jesus. Keep it vertical, would you?” 

“Shit, sorry. Liked that did you?” you mock, with a dirty, chaotic snigger. 

“I’m only a man, Princesa.”

With a nervous twist in his belly, Santiago flees to the more expansive space of the bedroom, leaving you to complete your task. Feeling somewhat claustrophobic, he throws open the window, thankful when the relative cool of the night air kisses his skin. The room has grown hot and sticky all of a sudden. Too close. Lord knows why. 

He perches himself inside the opened wooden square then, the flung-open frame an awkward perch. He rests with one leg hiked up on the ‘sill and one foot bracing him on the floor, his back reclining against the biting vertical edge. 

Only when you reenter does he reluctantly drag his eyes away from the black night and into the soft, shadowed shell of the dreary room. Despite this dimness, he can barely bring himself to look at you in this moment. It is as though you are too bright for him, and so he quickly -and uncharacteristically- averts his eyes. 

Still, you’re like a magnet, and his gaze quickly relocates you without much trouble. 

“Feel like staying awake a little longer?” 

Despite looking bleary-eyed - dead on your feet, even -  you nod in response to his proposition and, much unlike earlier, Santiago suddenly feels he wouldn’t dream of sleeping. You perch yourself on the edge of the bed and flick on the lamp, casting a sallow glow throughout the room. It makes you look at once dream-like and infinitely more real to him, as the glare highlights the goose flesh trailing up your arms and thighs. The tired circles under your eyes. He doesn’t know how you make such details attractive, but as far as he is concerned, there is no bad light to cast you in. 

You lay down, legs stretched out on the scratchy comforter, and torso propped against the stiff, unforgiving pillows. You make space for him to lie down alongside you, and yet Santiago opts to hover, not ready to relinquish his window seat. It’s as uncomfortable as it probably looks, however, and so he fumbles in his pocket for a smoke, figuring it as good an excuse as any to be sitting up there - instead of lying next to you. He stares out into the blackened parking lot with enough vigour to convince an onlooker it is entirely compelling - instead of looking at you. 

You are quiet for a moment following and Santiago lets it hang, exhaling twists of smoke from his mouth to the window. Flicking his spent ash down onto the asphalt below. Then, you expel a blustery sigh.

“Shit,” you grumble. You click your tongue. Santiago turns to see you lying flat on your back now, staring contemplatively up at the dusty, motionless ceiling fan, arms folded behind your head. “That guy I made out with.” 

Santiago takes an even deeper drag on his smoke; perhaps unconsciously hoping that if he is occupied long enough, he won’t be required to respond at all.

Your head lollops to the side, your gaze finding his. “Do me a favour and don’t tell Tommy I did that, okay?” 

Fuck. 

“Wait. Tommy?! You and Tommy?” The words are expelled faster than he would’ve wanted, almost making him choke on a cloak of hot smoke. “Tommy fucking Nelson?”

“Yeahhh. We’ve, um, sorta… been hooking-up lately.” 

Santiago quickly inhales another drag, smoke seething out of his nostrils as he flicks the used cigarette butt down to the asphalt below. He is grateful that the lungful gives him a second to think before he speaks - yet apparently, it is not quite long enough. “Shit. The guy’s so stacked I swear he must have abs on his dick.” 

You laugh; and Santiago decides that, based on the beauteous sound of it alone, Tommy fucking Nelson doesn’t even remotely deserve you. 

“I dunno about abs on his dick… but he’s got enough to work with, know what I mean?”

Santiago continues to peer out of the window, and so you don’t see his face crumple with a frown. “So he’s good, huh?” 

You scoff to yourself. “Oh. Fuck. Not really. He doesn’t do much of the work…” Your dirty laugh sounds out. “Fortunately, I’m a goddamn miracle worker when it comes to getting myself off.”

Strike two. Tommy Nelson definitely doesn’t deserve you. 

You giggle. Giggle like this is a girls’ fucking sleepover. Like you are revealing some - far more innocent - secret to a best friend. 

But… of course. Because that’s precisely what he is to you, right? Nothing more, nothing less. And that’s never bothered him before. Has never bothered him until precisely now. 

What exactly has gotten into him tonight, then? Why does some old guy have his head in a spin? Why is he delaying crawling onto his side of the bed? Why can’t he look at you? 

Further delaying the inevitable, Santiago pats down his pockets, hoping for another cigarette with which to prolong his diversion by the window. However, he comes up short. Has no other recourse left besides brushing his teeth, kicking off his shoes, stripping down to his boxers, and laying his body out alongside yours. The mattress dips as he settles on top of the covers, and you swivel on to your side to face him. 

“Hey.” You prod him in the pec. “What about you anyway?”

“What about me?”

You reach down. Snap the elastic hem of his boxers until it pings back against his toned stomach. “Been getting any lately?” 

He makes a vague, non-committal sound, hoping it will be enough; but, of course, you don’t stop there.  

“Your dream girl… Let’s see.” Your eyes spark, far too animated considering such a long night. “Wait. Don’t tell me. She’s… nude. Huge breasts.” Santiago had wanted to roll his eyes at you, honestly, but he finds he can’t quite quash his smile. “She’s… I know… draped in the American Flag.” His face splits with mirth. “Reciting the Fifth Amendment.” You prod him emphatically in the pec. “Plus she plays bass in a Pearl Jam cover band and gives next-level blow jobs.” His gaze sweeps over your shit-eating grin like a paintbrush over a canvas. Like fingers down a guitar fret. Like it belongs there. Like he belongs here. “Well?” you’d needled. “Am I warm yet?” 

“Wait, I think I know her.” Santiago snaps his fingers. “Hey. Yeah. Didn’t she hook-up with Benny last week?” 

You twist as chaotic laugh spills out of you, throwing your arm over him and dipping your head towards his bare chest. It is a small thing. A minute, unconscious action. A brief touch. A single moment. Except… the way it makes his stomach lurch makes it completely undeniable to him. Undeniable that the only girl doing it for him is you. 

He realises it all now though, as he looks at you. Realises he’s been seeing you in pieces. In fragments; because of course he has. Of course, because he’s been trying to survive, and if he’d dared to think, instead, about living? Well, then he’d have far too much to lose. 

“Come onnn,” you purr, jutting out your bottom lip, entirely oblivious to the way the ground is disappearing from beneath him as you remain curled into his side. “Give me some gossip. It’s my birthday!” 

He swallows. Tries to pull himself together. Tries to be exactly what you need him to be. 

“Christ.” He nervously scratches at the stubble sprouting along his jaw. “Well. Let’s see. First of all, I’ve spent so long without any action but my own goddamn fist that even Morales is starting to look appealing.” 

“Well? Do you think he’d be down?”  

“He should be so lucky. Anyway. He’s got a girl back home. High school kinda sweetheart deal.”

You scoff. “What? For real?”

“Mm hmm. He’s in it too. His eyes mightta wandered occasionally - but as far as I know his dick never has.” 

You pump your eyebrows like that surprises you. “Good for him.” And then: “It won’t last though.”

“Christ. You’re really that cynical already?”

“Something like that,” you smirk. “Guess it comes with the old age.” 

“Oh yeah. Speaking of birthdays…” Santiago pushes off his elbow and swivels, reaching to fumble a tiny, square parcel from his jeans pocket. He settles back into position with a grin on his face, extending his gift toward you. You eye it sceptically, but with casual intrigue. 

“Fuck me. Something else from your trousers that’s been manhandled to death, Santiago? You know how to treat a lady.” 

He can’t explain why he feels nervous as you weigh the package in your palm. “It’s… for protection.” 

“A fucking condom?”

“Ay, dios. Just open it, would you?” 

You rise up, settling cross-legged on top of the covers, and Santiago shifts to mirror you, with a lopsided, self-conscious smile. You pause, looking between him and the package with a gentle, subdued glee. You gingerly peel the red tissue paper away, revealing the gift nestled within. As soon as you observe what is inside, however, the glee evaporates from your face. You look down at it, for once rendered speechless before you say his name, the sound as thin as the wisps of smoke still eddying up on the ceiling. “Santiago.” 

He swallows. Saws his hand across his stubble, suddenly worried that the gesture is all off. “It’s-” 

Your eyes snap up to his, your expression raw and soft. “-I know what it is.” 

You look back down to the gift now, warmly. Lift them up, a string of black rosary beads unfurling. The beads his mom had gifted him for protection the day before he’d shipped out, clamping her hands over his and reciting a prayer he didn’t believe in, but which he’d felt all the way down to his marrow. The beads that he’d kept on him ever since, usually nestled in the pocket of his tac vest. The beads which his mother had prayed would keep him safe. Would protect him, when it had turned out to be you who had answered her prayer. You who had protected him, at whatever cost. 

“But I can’t-“

Stupid. You’re stupid. Of course you can. 

“It’s no big deal. I’m just a cheapskate,” he minimises. 

You inhale, about to launch a protest, but you must read something altogether too earnest in his face, since any such argument is subdued as soon as you look at him. Instead then, you hold them up once more, your eyes glistening as you admire the cheap, plastic beads for far more than they are worth. 

“But won’t your mom-“

“Be mad I gave them away?” You let the beads pool in one palm, the red tissue paper now strewn over your lap like swatches of blood. Santiago clamps his hands over yours, nestling the beads safely within, in a gesture which mirrors his mother’s own plea a little too closely. He empathises with her then. With her fear of being left behind. With her fear for his soul and its fate. “Are you shitting me? You saved her angelito. She’d probably sign the goddamn house over to you. I mean, shit - she’s already been bugging me to bring her new hija over for tamales.” 

He hasn’t ever told you that before. Maybe that’s why you do it. Why you gently cup his face and dip to render a light, chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. When you draw back from him, you look almost as surprised by the gesture as he is.  

“Santiago.” Your eyes well-up. “It really means a lot.” 

He doesn’t have words for a moment. It does. It means a lot to him, and he’s struck with sentimentality when he realises that it means something to you too. He nods once, gaze gently dancing over your face. 

“I mean it,” you squeeze out through welling tears. “This is the sweetest thing-“

“-Shh. Oh no. No, no, no,” he captures your tears with the crook of his forefinger just as they spill over, motioning as though he is attempting to restore them to whence they came, a soft yet playful concern dancing over his face. “Quick sharp. Put these back,” he whisper-shouts, faux urgently. “No-one can know you feel things.” 

His remark causes you to laugh through your tears, as you hastily lift a balled fist to scrub them away. The sounds dissolve into a pleasant yet taut silence, leaving the two of you simply looking into each other’s eyes. 

You are the first to break it, dropping your gaze down towards your lap. 

“Listen. Thank you.” 

“It’s the least I could do.“

Your expression grows more troubled then, a divot notching in your brow and your head shaking softly side to side. “Santiago. I need to say this. You… you don’t owe me any debt. Okay? And… and don’t you even think -ever- about trying to repay it. You hear me?” 

He owes you everything, and he’ll repay it however he can; but he isn’t about to argue with you. Instead, he simply nods. Forces an even, concessionary smile, leaning into a swift topic change. “You tired yet?”

“Yeah. Exhausted.” 

“Let’s lie down then, alright?” 

“Mmm.” You set the beads down so carefully on your nightstand that it constricts his chest, arranging them in a nest of tissue paper. “It’s just… I…”

“What?” 

He flicks off the lamp and you lay down on your back, staring up at the ceiling fan, the room now illuminated only by the distant glow of the motel’s neon sign across the lot. It bathes the room in a purple-tinged dark. When your voice comes back, it is small. “It’s just that I… I don’t want this night to end.” 

Santiago lays himself out, right next to you. “Then let’s try and stay awake, huh?” 

“Yeah. Let’s do that.” You shiver; then, instead of crawling beneath the scratchy comforter like he expects, you curl into his side. Rest your head against his chest. Santiago’s arms hover over you for a moment, as though he doesn’t know what to do. In actual fact though, it comes far too naturally to him. 

He wraps you in his arms, and begins to smooth one hand up and down your back - of course, being careful not to venture too low, even as you torque your body into his touch. 

You exhale against him. Hum, up against his bare, tan skin. Drape your arm over him, and, reliably, there is that knot again. That fist, tightening inside his chest. 

“Hey,” he croaks, voice smaller than it needs to be. “Birthday princess?” 

“Mmm.”

“Do you…?” 

“Do I what?” 

He hesitates. Stares coldly and contemplatively up at the ceiling fan himself now even as he bundles the warmth of you in his arms. “Do you believe in happy endings?”

He feels your breathy expletive fan over his chest. “Fuck. That’s a big one.”

“Sorry. Forget it, you don’t have to-“

“-No. I do,” you say with certainty. “I do believe in them.”

Santiago hopes that you can’t feel his heart thundering beneath the shell of your ear. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Except… not for people like us.” 

His brow tightens, mouth turning down at the corners. “Why not?” 

“Well,” you muse, wriggling pointedly until his hand - stopped dead with suspense - resumes its ministrations over your back, his fingers obediently seeking out the knots and notches until your airy hum sounds again. “Because our hands are too bloody now to build anything good. Right?” 

It’s strange because, right now, caressing you like this, he could almost forget that his hands are blood-soaked. Your touch is the only reminder he’s had in some time that his hands can indeed be loving. In fact, the whole concept of war feels so entirely incongruous to him while he’s holding you. Like it could not be further away, even though -in your lives- it is only ever around the corner. He pushes his response out from the depths of his chest. “Don’t you think that’s just a little bleak?” 

“I dunno.” You shrug, and he doesn’t enjoy how sad your voice grows . How old you somehow sound all of a sudden. “It’s just… They told us we’d be heroes, Santi. But… When was the last time you felt like one?”

You’re my hero, he thinks loudly, in the achingly quiet room; but, he catches the words before they make it out of his throat. In the end, nothing more than a small, reined-in grunt manages to escape. 

“Why do you ask, anyway?” 

Because you deserve one. More so than anyone he’s ever met, you deserve one. 

His fingers and the heel of his hand continue to massage the dink in your back, rooting out every source of tension. Learning how to take the pain apart for you like a weapon in his palm. “Dunno,” he lies. “The wedding. All that.” 

“Pfft. I give ‘em a month.” 

“You’re fucking brutal, you know that?”  

“And you’re hilarious. Shit. Happy fucking endings? Man. At this point, I think I’d settle for a happy middle, you know? Before I go down in my inevitable blaze of glory.”

“Don’t say that,” Santiago scolds, his voice taut. “I hate when you talk like that.” 

He doesn’t blame you. For being cynical or pessimistic - not really. Doesn’t blame you one bit. Not after you’d legitimately looked death in the face. He understands well enough what that can do to a person. How it can change them. How, even someone like you, who always saw a clear, bright path ahead, could begin to doubt the clarity of that vision. 

Absent-mindedly, you circle the pad of your forefinger in the valley of his pecs. “What about you, then? Do you believe in all that stuff? Marriage? Happy endings?” 

“Meh. Not so much,” he answers honestly, fissures in his voice. Maybe it is his ingrained Catholic guilt talking, but he certainly doesn’t feel like he deserves a happy ending. Not after the things he’s done. Not after all that blood.

“Then how about this, Santiago Garcia,” you begin, tone much more playful, like you’ve had a bright idea. “Would you settle for a lifetime of trouble-making with your ride or die?” 

You extend your pinky towards him for the most sacred of all vows, and he curls his own little finger around yours.

He intends his response to feel light-hearted. Equally playful. He really does. But, when the words escape his lips they are heavy. Dripping and weighed with sentimentality. “With you, honestly, it doesn’t really feel like settling.” He suddenly feels like someone is sitting on his chest. Like the air is scarce and sharp with some incendiary cloud - about to ignite and burn everything he’s known to the ground. 

“Kiss ass,” you poke lightly, and a wistful smile briefly dances across his features. 

“It’s only what you’re due.” 

“Oh?! A thorough ass-kissing?” 

“Sure. Maybe you can get Tommy-abs-on-his-dick-Nelson right on that.” 

You snicker chaotically. “Huh. Maybe.”

Santiago jostles you gently in his embrace. “Hey. Speaking of. Sorry you got lumbered with the sideshow tonight, by the way.”

“Fuck off, Pope,” you huff, like he’s just said something which causes deep offence. “Of all the chumps I couldda been stuck with, I’m glad it was you.” Santiago’s heart flutters, his chest blooming with a hazy, metered-out warmth when he hears you say those words. “Now. Wish me happy birthday one more time, and then sing me a damn lullaby, would you?” 

Santiago crushes his chin down to his chest to get a better look at you, having decided that you must surely be joking. “Huh?!” 

“We all knew about your guitar skills but you have a beautiful set of pipes too? Been holding out on me, Pope. Now, sing!” 

“Jesus. You’re demanding, Princesa.”

“It’s only what I’m due, right? Come on, I haven’t got all night, asshat!” Somehow, the derogatory term sounds imbued with a deep fondness somehow, and it blooms through him. 

“Alright. Alright. Keep your panties on.” Shit - you had better. 

“Thank you.” 

Santiago dips his chin so he can reach your hairline. Settles a chaste kiss there, which lingers a touch too long - but which he can’t possibly cut any shorter, his eyes closing as his lips brush your skin. “Happy birthday,” he breathes, completing part one of your demand. With any luck, he thinks, you might fall straight to sleep like this - before he even has to serenade you. 

He stills as your eyes flutter closed, listening out for the slowed pace of your breathing. That is, until you open one eye and whisper-hiss up at him. “Sing.” 

A resigned amusement twitches his plush lips and he finally obliges you. He begins softly speak-singing, hoping his soporific and sandy tones will lull you towards sweet dreams, his broad palm still sweeping up and down your back. 

“She gives me everything

And tenderly…” 

A soft smile graces your features as you note his song choice. “Cobain? You’re such an angsty little gremlin, you know that?” 

“I can stop at any time,” he threatens, teasingly. 

“No. No, please.” 

He clears his throat. Lets his voice grow a touch more full and resonant, despite it being scuffed by tiredness and smoke.

“The kiss my lover brings,

She brings to me-ee,

And I love her.” 

It is a little funny, at first. A little awkward; until suddenly, it isn’t . Until, suddenly, a weight settles in your brow. Until his voice begins to falter, cracking apart with emotion. 

He hadn’t been able to say it. Clearly not even to acknowledge it. 

He hadn’t been able to find the words to tell you what you mean to him. To explain the pit in him which had opened up when he’d almost lost you. Didn’t have the words to tell you you were the reason he’d prayed for the first time in ten years, pledging loyalty to a God he hadn’t believed in -hadn’t needed - until he was begging Him not to take you. He didn’t know how to describe the way it had felt for him to kneel by your bedside, his mother’s rosary beads clutched in his palm so tightly the cross has drawn blood - even as he’d openly cursed them for protecting him and not you, and had cursed you for the same. 

He swallows the hard, tight knot which has gnarled in his throat. Wonders if maybe he can stop, because singing feels like purging himself of far too much of the pain and love he has buried, and fuck, it hurts on the way out. 

He does consider stopping. That is, until your small, grief-laden voice sounds out as though it hurts you too; but that you need to hear what he is finally telling you. “Please. Don’t stop?” 

It is a question, this time, not a demand; and yet, Santiago couldn’t dream of denying you. 

And so, with a weight in his brow, he keeps on singing. 

“Bright are the stars that shine,

Dark is the sky. 

I know this love of mine,

Will never die.”

It is at this point his voice cracks wide open. It is at this point a single tear slips across the bridge of his nose as he sings it out loud. Something he’d known for a long time, in truth, but hadn’t quite found the words for:  

“And I love her.”

The room seems eerily still as you each hold your breath. He doesn’t know where to go from here - but luckily, you always seem to know the way forward. 

“You know,” you say softly, voice wet with emotion. “It’s a real shame. Because if you did believe in happy endings?” 

“Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper.  

“You’d look pretty good as somebody’s endgame, butthead.” 

An emotion Santiago can’t name twists through his middle, like he is being wrung out. Like his blood-soaked soul is finally being purged. It is no wonder then, that his words come out dripping red. Soaked in cynicism. With a disbelief that anything good -for him - is deserved. “Let’s get each other through the happy middle first,” he says, as hidden tears glitter on his long lashes. “Then maybe we’ll see about endings, huh?” 

You don’t speak for a moment. Simply swallow in the near-dark. But, it is not lost on him that you hold him just a shade tighter. Then, when he hears a gentle intake of breath from you, he knows your request before you even utter it. 

Please. 

He resumes his singing. Slower, more off tempo. Begins to repeat the lines, over and over, softer and softer, until your breathing is deep and soporific. Until your weight on him is heavier. Heavier from sleep, and heavier from this new knowledge he has gained. 

And, there it is. The end of the night, and yet Santiago cannot dream of sleeping. Not yet. Can only watch you, hold you, listen to your soft breathing, his heart full with a new understanding. And understanding he didn’t invite, but a welcome guest all the same. 

He resolves it then. Resolves that, even if he doesn’t deserve a happy ending, he will do everything in his power to make sure you get yours… 

Even if that means letting all hope of you -for him- go. 

So, as he cradles you in his arms and stares unsleeping up at the ugly ceiling fan, Santiago contemplates it. 

Contemplates in great detail the four days with you that irrevocably changed the course of his life. 

The day he met you.

The day he almost lost you. 

The day he realised he was in love with you. 

And the day he started running from that.

The first day had been two years ago, the second had been five months ago, the third had been today, and the fourth? 

The fourth will be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, he will start running, because his feelings for you are far too deep and huge for him to handle. 

He doesn’t even pause to wonder whether he’ll ever allow himself to stop. After all, once Santiago Garcia has a mission, he accepts nothing less than completion. 

Maybe he’s no hero; but he always gets the job done. 

[reysdriver]

Rockstar!James

headcanons of James as a rockstar — rockstar!james x gn!reader

warnings: sexual headcanons (there is a warning before them) so minors dni, 18+, mentions of sex

words: 0.5k

a/n: marauders aus take up sm space in my brain so im making this, and i may make rockstar stuff for all the boys

- In a band called The Marauders of course

- Reminiscent of like rock bands from the 70s and 80s

- James plays the bass, maybe drums, but I mostly see him playing bass or guitar

- Talks about you in concerts and interviews 

- But you also have a secret signal or code word that he uses that only you two (and maybe the other members) know about so he can show he's thinking about you privately

- If it's a modern AU, he'll post you on his social media all the time, and a lot of his fans are in admiration of your relationship 

- Writes songs about you/dedicates songs to you all the time 

- Spoils you with gifts and souvenirs from every stop of their tours 

- Has it in his contract that the dressing room needs to have your favourite snacks and drinks so you can be comfortable backstage with him

- Has personal touches of yours on his instrument like your name and a heart stitched on his guitar strap, stickers of yours on his case, etc

- Asks for good luck kisses before every performance

- You're always the first to hear the band's new songs 

- Has a scrapbook or memory box full of polaroids of the two of you in every foreign city you visit

- Only buys guitar picks (or drumsticks) in your favourite colour because duh

- If this is an AU with Harry, you stay home or in a hotel room with Harry when he's young and you two watch all of James' performances live

- Then he'll write songs about Harry too ofc 

- The band lets you pick setlists and track orders

- James insists it's because you have the best taste, but the other guys don't mind since they often can't agree anyways

(nsfw headcanons below)

- He has a bucket list of cities where he wants to fuck you, and he makes a big deal of checking off places every time they go on tour

- Like imagine him "Babe, this'll be our first time in Australia, that means we'll have to cross Sydney and Perth off the list"

- He has recorded your moans and used them in the background of a song, but it's quite blended in so nobody notices and it's like your little secret 

- He once told you to sit on the amp while he plays iykyk

- A lot of quickies backstage where it ends just in time for him to perform 

- Him kicking the other boys off the tour bus so you two can have some privacy 

- If he's a guitarist/bassist, you know he's good with his hands

- If he's a drummer, you know he has the best damn rhythm

- Take those both however you will

- If he goes on tour without you, the day he returns will be nothing but sex to make up for all that lost time

[indigosunsetao3]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRE4g6YQ/

Okay but look at this 😭😫👏🏻❤️🥺🥹 it’s such husband behavior and I could see all the 141 guys doing this tbh. Maybe except Price (I feel like he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find one and would be successful. Even if it means driving 2+hrs to every Tesco trying to find the cake)

What? Stop it right now. This is too cute.

Just doing read more because it's a bit long to list them all. All are SFW and fluffy. 💙

Price for sure is going to every. single. store. He's going to find this cake one way or another; he won't come home until he's got it. He loses count of how many places he tries. He makes store managers call other stores to see if they have it in stock, watching them from the counter with narrowed eyes. When he tracks down the last one, which is another hour away, he asks the store to set it aside and pays them double when he arrives for their effort (and to apologize for slightly threatening them if they sold it to someone else). Traditions are important to him and he'll be damned if he misses a year. "I know it's almost midnight dear, but it's still technically your birthday. Never mind where I've been all day, not important."

Soap is making a masterpiece. Baking may not be his forte per se but man is artistic. His creation is a variation of all the different caterpillar cakes; selecting only the best qualities from each. And yes, he looked and studied them all. He has pictures of them all over the kitchen counter with notes on each about what he likes and doesn't like. Then he sketches out his own picture and uses it as a blueprint for his design, proudly naming it Craig.

"Clyde's eyes are terrifying, bonnie. But I didn't like how Chris didn't have feet...they have to have feet or then it's a snake. And Morris was boring, not enough stripes."

Gaz is in the kitchen for hours baking. He's bought everything he needs in bulk because he knows it's going to be a learning curve. He ends up with multiple failures, that he'll take to the team to devour, before finally getting it right. By the time he finishes, the kitchen is a disaster—every pan, bowl, plate, and pot (yes pot, he ran out of clean bowls) is dirty by the time he finishes. And flour? It's everywhere, his hair, clothes, the cat. "Stay out of the kitchen. Just sit here and enjoy this...I'll be back in a bit. If you see the cat just brush him off for me, yeah?"

Ghost enlists Soap to help him. It ends up with a bunch of arguing about how to do it. They fight over where to put the milk chocolate decorative pieces, the proper spacing of the eyes, the size of the feet and every other little imperfection Ghost can find. Soap eventually leaves telling Ghost to do it himself...before coming back thirty minutes later to help him finish. It's a bit lumpy and there are little slashes where it had been pulled apart and resealed with chocolate icing like glue from Ghost's attempts to get it perfect. "It's a bit beat up, sorry love. Tried to make it perfect for you, now it looks like he's been to war with all the scars."

Bonus:

Alex, poor soul, had no idea this kind of cake was even a thing at first. He assumed a caterpillar cake was just a sheet cake with the Very Hungry Caterpillar on it until you explained. Once he knows what it is, you get a caterpillar cake every year; he doesn't care that shipping costs three times as much as the cake itself. But this year the shipment runs late and he has to call in backup...which involves Gaz going to the shops to sweet talk the little old lady bakers for their recipe while Alex frantically takes notes. He only has a few hours to get it together and while he does his best...it's the thought that counts right? At least it tastes like it's supposed to.

"I know it's not Colin but if you squint hard enough it's vaguely a caterpillar....really squint, maybe cover one eye, and stand back a few feet. I promise your real one is on its way, just had a bit of delay."

[fanfics4all]

Domestic Abuse

Request: Yes / No Thank you @badthingshappenbingo​ for my card! 

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 4981

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bruises, injuries, scared to leave someone, 

Y/N: Your Name 

A/N: I won't be tagging anyone since this could be triggering!

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I should have left before we moved. Hell, the whole reason we moved was because people started noticing the bruises I couldn’t hide as well. Fifteen years with Chris was now my nightmare. He wasn’t always a bad guy, but then again they never are, are they? We were high school sweethearts and got married five years after we graduated. We had our son Cameron just a few months later. It wasn’t until Cameron turned four that the abuse started. Maybe it was the stress from his job and having a child so young that made him start, but it’s no excuse. I was scared of him. For the first time since I knew Chris, I was scared of him. 

It was a Friday night and Cameron was sick. I hadn’t been out of the house that wasn’t for groceries, taking Cameron to school, or an appointment in months. I had asked Chris if he could watch our son while I went out and had a girl's night. Mistake number one. 

“You’re his fucking Mother, you take care of him. That’s your damn job.” He growled. 

“Chris I haven’t been out in forever. The girls just want to-” 

“Oh, bullshit!” He shouted and stood up. 

“You just wanna go out and slut around some fucking club like the stupid whore you are! Am I not fucking enough for you? I mean come the fuck on Y/N, you don’t need to work because I fucking provide for you and that fucking kid, who now I’m not even sure if he’s fucking mine because you’re such a whore-” 

“Of course he’s yours! I haven’t been with another man since high school!” I shouted back. Mistake number two. He raised his fist and slammed it into my face. 

“Don’t you fucking talk back to me!” He shouted so loud I was worried he’d wake Cameron up. He didn’t need to see his Father like this. Tears slowly fell down my face as I looked up at the man I didn’t even recognize now. 

“C-Chris, please… J-Just lower your voice or you’ll wake Cameron.” 

“I don’t give a shit! You have a great fucking life with me and you’re sitting here trying to go out and cheat!” He screamed. He gripped me by the shirt and lifted me off the ground. 

“You get the fuck in the kitchen and grab me a beer then fuck back off to take care of that kid like you’re supposed to.” He growled in my face and I nodded, terrified of what else he’d do. He shoved me away and I fell back to the floor. He sat back on the couch and glared at me. 

“Fucking hurry up.” He said and I scrambled to do as he asked. I rushed into Cameron’s room and he was still out, thank God. 

A few weeks later Chris was on a business trip and it was just Cameron and myself. I was so relieved to be rid of Chris for a bit, but I knew he’d be keeping track of me and checking the cameras he had hidden in the apartment. I had only found a few, but I had no idea how many there were. It didn’t help that just before he left he beat me as a reminder that I was stuck with him. He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t show my face in public, so I had plenty of bruises to try and cover-up. I did my best, but Cameron could still see a bit on my face. I had to lie and tell him I fell in the shower last night. 

It was the last day Chris was gone and I needed to get more groceries. I made a quick list and grabbed my purse. I walked over to Cameron’s room and smiled as I saw him playing with his trucks. 

“Hey baby, you wanna come to the grocery store with Mommy? I’ll get you a treat if you’re good.” I said and he smiled brightly at me. 

“Otay Mommy!” He said and walked over to me. I picked him and and lightly tickled his stomach. He giggled and pushed my hands away. 

“Let’s get your shoes on.” I said and walked to the front door. I sat him on the little bench near the door and helped him put his shoes on. 

“Do you want me to carry you or do you wanna walk to the car?” I asked.

“Walk!” He said and I nodded. I helped him hop off the bench and opened the door for him. He walked out and I turned to lock the door. 

“Pencer!” I heard Cameron shout and his little footsteps running off. I turned my head and saw him running towards our neighbor, Spencer. Cameron ran right up to him and hugged his leg, making Spencer look down at him. 

“Hi.” Cameron said with his adorably goofy grin.

“Hey, Cameron.” Spencer said kneeling to his level. I quickly locked the door and rushed over to them. 

“Cameron! I’ve told you not to just run off without me.” I said and he just smiled at me. 

“But Pencer home.” He said and I gave Spencer a sheepish smile. Spencer stood up and Cameron walked over to my side, holding my hand. Spencer studied my face and his brows furrowed. He looked me over completely and cleared his throat. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He asked and I forced a smile that I really hoped looked genuine. 

“I’m fine. Cameron and I are just going grocery shopping since Chris is coming home tomorrow…” I said and he raised a brow. 

“I-I don’t want to seem rude, but what happened to your cheek?” He asked and I felt my heart skip a beat and my eyes involuntarily widened a bit. 

“Oh nothing, I just fell in the shower last night.” I said with a nervous laugh. Spencer stepped a bit closer and I flinched. I silently cursed myself for reacting when I knew Spencer would never hurt me. He was always so sweet, even if we didn’t talk a lot. He wasn’t home a lot and we simply had some small talk when we did see each other in the hallway. Cameron loved seeing him though, he always thought Spencer was cool. 

“Who did this to you?” He asked in a whisper. I bit my lip and looked down at Cameron who was still smiling up at us. He didn’t hear Spencer. 

“Spencer…” I whispered and shook my head. He looked down at Cameron and knelt down. 

“Hey Cameron, have you ever seen an abacus?” He asked and Cameron looked at him confused. He shook his head and looked up at me. 

“It’s an old calculator.” Spencer said, but he still looked confused. 

“It’s helps people count.” I said. 

“Oh! No.” Cameron said. 

“Why don’t you and your Mom come inside and I can show you?” Spencer asked and looked up at me. 

“Can we Mommy?” He asked. 

“Uh, we should really go get the groceries.” I said and Cameron frowned. He gave me those adorable little puppy eyes and I sighed. I knew Spencer was just trying to distract my son so he could get some answers out of me. 

“I-I guess a minute wouldn’t hurt…” I said and Cameron lit up. 

“Yay! Fank you Mommy!” He said and hugged my leg. Spencer opened his apartment and Cameron rushed inside. Spencer motioned me to follow him and I hesitantly walked inside. It was very neat and there were books everywhere. Spencer placed his bags near the door and locked it. Cameron was picking up a book and looking it over. I walked over to him and gently took it out of his hands. 

“We don’t pick up other people’s things without asking them, baby.” I said and he frowned. 

“Sworry Mommy…” He said. 

“It’s alright, he can look at it if he’d like.” Spencer said. Cameron smiled and I handed the book back to him. 

“There aren’t any pictures so I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much.” Spencer chuckled. Cameron frowned and put the book back where he found it. 

“Can I see the abracadabra?” He asked and we both laughed a little. 

“Abacus, baby.” I said and he looked at me confused. I shook my head and kissed his forehead. Spener walked into another room and came out with a very nice-looking abacus. He placed it on his coffee table and motioned Cameron over. He walked over and looked in awe of the beads. 

“See you just move them up and down like this.” Spencer showed him. 

“Each bead represents one and each row is a different place value and you just-” 

“Spencer.” I cut him off and he looked up at me. 

“He’s five. He’s not going to understand.” I said with a small smile and Spencer blushed. 

“Right, sorry. Cameron, why don’t you play with this for a bit while I talk to your mom?” He asked and Cameron nodded with a huge smile. He was moving the beads and just having fun counting them. Spencer stood up and walked towards me. He motioned to the other side of the room and I glanced at my son. 

“Be gentle, baby. Don’t break it, okay?” I said and Cameron nodded. I sighed and walked over to Spencer while keeping my eyes on my son. 

“Who did this, Y/N?” He asked. I was so scared to tell him. I never wanted anyone to see me at my lowest, besides Spencer probably has his own shit to deal with. 

“Spencer…” I sighed and shook my head. I looked at him and it was clear he knew something was wrong. He saw my bruises that were way too dark still to cover. He probably saw the way I tensed up when he stepped closer to me. 

“I can help you, Y/N. I work for the FBI, if someone is hurting you I can help.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“Y-You work for the FBI?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Hold on.” He said. He walked over to his bag by the door and came back after he found something. He held out his badge and I carefully took it. 

‘BAU SPECIAL AGENT Dr. Spencer Reid’ I read and looked back up at him. 

“I-I can’t tell you… He’ll kill me, or my son, or both of us. I don’t have anywhere else to go and I don’t have enough money to leave him. He’s in control of everything…” I whispered as a tear fell down my cheek. 

“Hey slow down, I’ll help you. I promise I’ll help you, my team will help you, but I need you to tell me who’s doing this to you.” He said and I shook my head. We both knew who I was talking about but Spencer needed me to say it. I flinched as I heard my phone ring and quickly dug through my purse to find it. Once I pulled it out my throat tightened. Chris was calling me. It was probably because I told him I was going to get groceries, but was still in our apartment building… My hands started shaking and Spencer gently took my phone for me. He looked at who was calling and saw it was Chris. He looked in my eyes and probably could see just how scared I was. 

“Y/N I need you to say his name if I’m going to help you.” He said. I bit my lip and stared at him as the phone slowly went silent. There was ding after ding, signaling Chris was texting me. I gulped and took a deep breath. 

“I-It’s C-Chris… He hits me, that’s why we moved here…” I admitted quietly. 

“Does he hit Cameron?” He asked and I shook my head. He nodded and looked over at my son.

“Why don’t you go sit with Cameron? I’m gonna go call my boss and we’ll get this sorted.” He said and I nodded. Spencer walked into the other room and I took a seat on the couch as I watched Cameron play. He turned to look at me and his smile fell. 

“What’s wrong Mommy?” He asked and walked over to me. 

“Nothing baby, Mommy just got something in her eye.” I said and forced a smile. He didn’t look totally convinced, but it worked for now. He turned to play with the abacus more and showed me how well he could count. 

It wasn’t long before Spencer walked back in and sat next to me. He still had my phone, but I guess he turned it on silent. 

“Hey Cameron, how would you like to go visit the FBI office?” He asked and I looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah! Please, Mommy?” He asked. Spencer gave me a small nod and a reassuring smile. 

“S-Sure baby…” I said and he jumped with joy. Cameron rushed to the door, but before I could scold him Spencer gently placed a hand on mine. I didn’t flinch. 

“Do you know if he’s tracking your car?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“I-I don’t know… m-maybe?” I said and he nodded. 

“Okay, then you need to drive your car and follow me. I’ll keep your phone so you don’t need to worry about whatever he’s saying, okay?” He said and I nodded. 

“Come on, Mommy!” Cameron called. I got up and scooped him into my arms. 

“I can walk Mommy.” He said and I smiled. 

“I know, baby, but I just want to hold you right now.” I said. We waited for Spencer to lock his door before we all headed down to the garage. I placed Cameron into his car seat and he was very excited to go see the FBI office. I wish it wasn’t because his Father is a monster, but he didn’t need to know that. I kissed his head and shut the door. I turned to find Spencer standing there watching us with a smile. 

“Just follow me.” He said and I nodded. He stepped closer to me and gently grabbed my hand. 

“I promise me and my team will keep the two of you safe.” He said and I nodded. 

We each got in our cars and I filled the ride with Cameron’s favorite songs. He was singing and smiling the whole way there. Cameron was the only thing keeping me from breaking down right now. The ride to the office building wasn’t horribly long and I parked right next to Spencer. He gave me another reassuring smile and led the way up to the BAU. When we got off the elevator he led us inside and Cameron was looking around in awe. We walked through some glass doors and into a room filled with desks and a few private offices. 

“Hey, pretty boy!” A man called and Spencer looked over at him. The man walked up to us and set his eyes on me.

“Oh and who might this be?” He asked with a smirk. 

“This is my neighbor, Y/N, and her son Cameron. Y/N, this is Derek Morgan.” Spencer introduced us. I noticed him stare at my cheek and I glanced away slightly. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” I said. 

“Reid.” A man with a deep voice said. Spencer and I both looked at him and he was dressed in a suit. His face was hard and I couldn’t read any emotions from him. He motioned to another room. Spencer nodded and looked back at me. 

“Maybe Cameron should hang out with one of my team members?” He suggested. I held him a little tighter and Spencer could tell I was scared. Spencer came closer and leaned next to my ear.

“Do you want him to hear everything we need to know?” He whispered and I gulped. Spencer pulled back and I gave him a small nod. 

“I can watch him.” A blonde girl said with a kind smile. 

“Y/N, Cameron, this is JJ.” Spencer introduced. I placed Cameron down and knelt down. 

“Can you be good for Miss. JJ?” I asked and he nodded. 

“You can just call me JJ.” She said and I nodded. 

“Okay, I’m gonna be in that room over there with Spencer if you need me okay?” I said and he nodded. 

“Otay Mommy!” He said and walked over to JJ. 

“Do you catch bad people?” He asked and she smiled. 

“Yeah, we do.” She said as she took him over to a desk. I got up and smiled. Spencer gently nudged me and I looked over at him. He motioned me to go ahead and I followed the emotionless man into the room. It had a small couch against the wall and a round table in front of a TV. Spencer closed the door after him and the man pulled the curtains closed. 

“Y/N, this is my boss.” Spencer said. 

“Aaron Hotchern.” The man said and held his hand out. I took it and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Please, take a seat.” He motioned to the couch and I sat down. Spencer sat next to me. Aaron sat in one of the chairs in front of us. 

“Now, Reid informed me that your husband abuses you and keeps track of you?” He asked and I nodded. 

“He’s been blowing up her phone, Sir.” Spencer said and passed him my phone. Aaron scrolled through my phone and his eyes hardened. 

“He’s threatening your life and the life of your son.” He said and my heart skipped a beat. 

“Please, you can’t let him hurt Cameron.” I begged, letting a few tears slip. Spencer held my hand and gently squeezed. 

“We won’t let him hurt either of you.” He said and Aaron nodded. 

“Can you tell me how long this has been going on?” Aaron asked. 

“About a year. It started maybe a month after Cameron turned four? We moved here because I-I couldn’t hide the bruises as well anymore and Chris didn’t want to get caught…” I whispered. Aaron and Spencer shared a look before Aaron got up. 

“I’ll be right back.” He said and left the room. 

“What’s he going to do, Spencer?” I asked. 

“He’s going to talk to the rest of the team and we’re going to help you.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“Don’t worry, JJ won’t let Cameron hear anything. I promise.” He said and I nodded but bit my lip. 

“Did you know more than 50% of domestic violence incidents go unreported?” He asked and I looked at him confused. 

“W-What?” I asked. 

“It’s because they’re scared of their partner.” He said. 

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. 

“Because you’re being strong by letting us help. You told me when you really didn’t have to. You could have just picked Cameron up and walked off to the grocery store and pretended nothing ever happened. You could have stayed scared and continued being with Chris. But here you are.” He said and I stared at him in awe. 

“I-I still am scared.” I said and he smiled. 

“I know, but that’s okay.” He said. 

“Why did you decide to help me? You could have just ignored us too.” I asked and his smile grew a bit. 

“It’s my job to help people, I was on my way to work anyway.” He said and I actually giggled. 

“Well thank you. I owe you big time.” I said and he shook his head. 

“Y/N, it’s my job. You don’t owe me anything.” He said. 

“Well, I’d still like to thank you somehow, maybe if I get some money back I can buy you dinner?” I asked and he blushed. 

“U-Uh you don’t…” He cleared his throat. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He said and I smiled. 

“But I’d like to. If you can save me and Cameron from what Chris has become, then I’d really like to thank you somehow.” I said and he slowly nodded. 

“I-I think this is the first time I’ve really seen you smile. I’ve noticed how they all looked forced, but I just assumed it was from work stress or from taking care of a small child.” He said and I blushed. 

“Cameron is the only thing that makes me smile anymore. Well that and you helping us.” I said. The door opened and a blonde girl with an interesting-looking dress, along with a black-haired woman, walked in and Aaron followed after her. He shut the door and she sat down right next to me. Aaron sat in the chair and the black-haired woman sat next to him. 

“Don’t you worry about a thing sweetie! We are going to take good care of you and that little bundle of joy out there. I’m going to hack into that tracker he has on your phone and Morgan is searching your car to see if he’s tracking that too. Then I’m going to work some of my magic and get you back in control of your accounts and you’ll be right as rain!” She said in an extremely happy tone. I stared at her with wide eyes and looked over at Spencer. He nodded with a smile and I looked back towards the girl. 

“T-Thank you… You can really do all that?” I asked and she smiled. 

“Of course I can! I’m a tech wizard!” She said and I smiled. I couldn’t stop myself from hugging her. 

“Thank you so much, uh…” I said with more tears falling. She returned the hug and rubbed my back. 

“Penelope. Right well. I’m going to go be your fairy godmother now. You’re in great hands.” She said and winked at Spencer. He blushed and she left the room. 

“Y/N.” Aaron said, and I looked over at him and the woman. 

“This is Agent Emily Prentiss.” He introduced. I wiped my eyes and smiled. 

“Hi Y/N, I’m going to need to ask you about what Chris did.” She said as she pulled out a notepad. I took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay, I need you to tell me everything he did in as much detail as you can. I’ll also need to take pictures of the bruises without makeup.” She said and I cringed a little. No one really knows how bad they were. 

“O-Okay.” I said. 

“We can take you to the hospital and make sure there isn’t more serious damage.” Aaron said. 

“Oh no, that’s okay.” I said. 

“We need to, Y/N, for the report.” Spencer said and I gulped. 

“Cameron can’t see, Spencer…” I said. 

“Do you have anyone you trust to watch him?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“Both my parents are dead, I don’t have any siblings, and my friends are all friends with Chris… I told you, I’m alone in this.” I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. 

“I can’t lose him, Spencer…” I said, more tears falling. 

“Hey, you won’t lose him, okay? I can see if JJ can watch him, she has kids his age.” He said and I bit my lip. 

“That’s too much I can’t ask that.” I said. 

“Y/N, we really need to take you to the hospital.” He said. His sweet, kind eyes were begging me to agree. 

“We need to make sure there isn’t more serious damage.” He added. 

“T-There is…” I whispered. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me everything.” Emily said. I took a deep breath and looked up at her. I saw my phone light up and his name flash on the screen. I gulped and Aaron picked up the phone to look at it. 

“I know this will be hard, but I need you to talk to him. Can you do that?” He asked and my eyes widened. 

“Hotch, you can’t ask her to do that. She’s terrified.” Spencer said. The phone stopped ringing and Aaron sighed. 

“He’s going to call back, let me get Garcia and she can track it.” He said and left the room. 

“B-But he’s out of the state, he’s not coming back until tomorrow.” I said confused. 

“He could have come back early.” Emily said and I felt my throat tighten. My breathing became heavy and I felt a strong need to get Cameron and run as far as we could. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s okay, you’re safe here. Just breath.” Spencer said and gently turned my head to face him. 

“H-He’ll kill us…” I whispered in a shaky breath. 

“No, we won’t let him, just take a deep breath.” He said and took an exaggerated breath. I tried to follow him and eventually calmed down by the time Aaron and Penelope returned. She sat down and opened her laptop. 

“Alright, next time he calls I’ll be able to know exactly where he is. 

“You need to keep him talking for as long as possible,” Emily said as she moved to sit next to me. I nodded and my phone lit up again. Chris. My hands were shaking and I felt Spencer place his hand on my thigh. 

“It’s okay, he can’t hurt you here.” He said and I nodded. I took a deep breath and answered the phone, putting it on speaker. 

“Hey, honey.” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. 

“Where the hell are you? You said you were going to the grocery store and now I can’t see where the fuck you are.” He growled. 

“I was just taking Cameron to the park first.” I said, hoping my lie sounded convincing. 

“You didn’t fucking ask permission to go to the fucking park! You probably left our son at him by himself and went to go get fucked like the stupid whore you are!” He shouted. 

“No, Chris I-” 

“Shut your fucking mouth! I’m going to fucking kill you and find a proper bitch to take care of MY son.” He said and hung up. I dropped my phone and started breaking down. Spencer wrapped an arm around me and gently rubbed me up and down. 

“Garcia, anything?” Aaron asked. 

“He’s on the highway, it looked like he’s going to her phone's last location which is-” 

“Here…” I whispered. I quickly stood up and headed for the door. 

“Y/N, where are you going?” Spencer asked, following me to the door. 

“Home.” I answered and went to open the door, but Spencer stopped me. 

“He said he’d kill you.” He said and I sighed. 

“He’s said it before and hasn’t done it. He’ll just hit me.” I said and Spencer shook his head. 

“I can’t just let you leave and go back to that. He came home early all because you didn’t go to the grocery store. You don’t know when he’ll snap.” He said and I shook my head. 

“What if today’s the day that he hits Cameron?” He asked and I turned to face him. 

“I would never let that happen.” I said and he sighed. 

“Please, Y/N, we can help you.” He said and I dropped my hand from the handle. 

“I-I have pictures… of what he did to me…” I said and they all looked at me. 

“Where are they?” Emily asked. 

“My phone, in a hidden folder.” I said. She picked it and and started looking for it. 

“Hotch.” She said and showed him the phone. He nodded and looked over at us. 

“Y/N, you and your son need to stay here. If your husband is really coming to try and kill you then this is the safest place. Is Morgan still searching her car?” He asked Penelope. 

“Yes Sir.” She answered. 

“Good, I’ll let him know Chris is on his way and we can meet him down there.” He said and Emily nodded. 

“Reid, you can stay up here with Y/N.” He said and Spencer nodded. They all left the room and it was just Spencer and myself. 

“W-What about Cameron?” I asked. 

“JJ will watch him still, Hotch won’t let him know anything.” He said and I nodded. 

“I want to see him. I need to hold my baby, Spencer.” I said. 

“You will okay? Just calm down a bit.” He said and gently pulled me in for a hug. 

“Just breath, Y/N. Then I’ll go get Cameron and you can hold him as much as you want.” He said, rubbing my back. It took me a little bit, but I managed to calm down. Spencer was a huge help and I pulled back, smiling at him. I wiped my tears and reached into my purse to check that the makeup was still in place. Thank God most of it was and I just had to fix it a little bit. 

“Let me go get Cameron.” Spencer said and walked out of the room. I closed my eyes and tried my best to keep my breathing normal. 

“You’re safe here.” Spencer’s words repeated in my head. 

“We’re safe here.” I whispered to myself. 

The door opened and I looked over to see Cameron laughing as Spencer tickled his side. I smiled and the sight made my heart skip a beat. Spencer was such a good person. Cameron looked over at me and his smile only grew. 

“Mommy!” He said and squirmed in Spencer’s hold. Spencer let him go and he ran up to me. I pulled him onto my lap and hugged him tightly. 

“Mommy, too tight…” He mumbled and I pulled back a bit. 

“Sorry baby.” I said and he looked at me confused. 

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“Nothing baby, everything is gonna be okay.” I said and kissed his head. I looked up at Spencer and he nodded at me. Everything is gonna be okay.

[bteezxyewriter12]

Fucking You Right

Pairing- Jungkook x Named Reader

Word count- 4.9k

Includes- Argument, sex, fingering, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, missionary, cock riding, tummy bulge, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff, Jungkook is such a fanboy for his girl

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxminee @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld

Gif Credit- @jung-koook

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Jungkook Masterlist

Jungkook POV

She's bopping her head to the music, my headphones on her ears, sitting next to me on the couch, Bam's head in her lap as she absentmindedly pets him

She's the only one I'm letting hear the finished track before anyone else

I value her input and I also wanted her to hear this song

The explicit version

I see when she hears the part I want her too because her head snaps to me, her eyes wide as plates, her mouth dropped open

"Holy shit", she gapes

I just smile, waiting for the song to finish

Waiting to see if she gets it

Two minutes later she pulls the headphones off, her face blushing

"Jesus Christ Kookie", she says

"Do you like it? Is it good?"

She nods, "It's good. So cute and then... damn....that line..."

"Which one?", I ask nonchalantly

She rolls her eyes, "You know. The 'fucking you right' one? ARMYS are gonna go insane"

Yeah I know

But that's not why I did it

"Are you really gonna sing this live?"

I shake my head, "That's the explicit version. There's a clean one. Changes fucking to loving"

She raises her eyebrow, "Still can be taken sexually"

I shrug, "I don't care"

I really don't

I'm not a fourteen year old anymore

I'm twenty five and ARMYS have to recognize I'm a grown man now

"K-ARMYS might be upset", she says, "I-ARMYS not so much. They're used their artists dating. To them it's not a big deal"

"That's why there's a clean version", I answer

"Well, I really liked the song. Congrats on writing a bop", she smiles

"Thanks", I smile, somewhat annoyed that she still isn't getting it

She nods, cuddling Bam, "So movie? Or do you wanna keep watching the kdrama we started?"

I just stare at her, not believing that she's not going to say anything more

I mean I'm talking about fucking someone in the song

Something no BTS member has done and she's not gonna ask more about it?

How?

"Kookie?", she asks, tilting her head, "Are you ok?"

No, I'm not

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Uh what?"

"About the song. Is that all you have to say?"

"Well yeah", she says confused, "I mean you asked for my opinion and I gave it. I don't know what else to say"

"You don't know what else to say?", I repeat, getting upset, "So you're not going to ask about the fucking part? Like is it literally or figuratively? Like is it an actual person?"

"Well I assume you mean a girl Jungkook", she answers, "But I don't know why you need me to ask about your sex life? Why do I have to know who you're fucking?"

"I'm not fucking anyone", I growl, angry this isn't going the right way

"Then what the hell?"

"You're not curious if I have someone in mind when I wrote that line? When I wrote this whole song which is basically a love song?"

"I don't need to know who you're pining for Jungkook"

"You should be asking because it's fucking you!", I yell, the shock on her face so fucking irritating, "The song is about you!"

I can't believe she's this oblivious

"What?", she gapes

"God, you're so fucking dumb!", I shout, standing up, starting to pace, Bam lifting his head and barking at me, "Jesus Christ, I've dropped so many fucking hints over the last few months and you don't get any of them!"

I've done everything I could think of- complimenting her, holding her hand, constantly hugging her, kissing her cheek

We fucking cuddle everytime we watch something

And she does all these things back to me and I don't understand what she doesn't get

I can't stand it when she introduces me as her best friend, when she constantly talks about what a good friend I am and all that shit

It infuriates me

And I'm angry at myself because I was too chicken shit to be direct

The fear of her rejection is massive

I have no problem getting girls to fuck, no problem telling girls my feelings for them when I did have girlfriends

But with her it's like I'm catatonic when it comes to talking about my feelings for her

I assume it's because I'm fucking in love

I've never went that far with any of the girls

It was never love

But with her it just fucking hit me in the face and at first I was terrified

I tried to deny it for awhile but being with her all the time, I couldn't

It was fucking obvious

To me anyway

I choked every time I tried to say something so I decided to drop hints

None of which she got

This song was the last thing I was going to try indirectly

Yes it's also for ARMYS but certain lines in the song I wrote when I thought of her

And I suspect the only reason why I'm saying anything at all is because I'm so heated

"Hints?", she asks

"Yes fucking hints! Goddamn Joanne, we fucking cuddle every time we hang out!", I yell, "I hate when you call me your best friend. I don't want to fucking be your best friend! I want to be your fucking boyfriend! I want to be the only fucking guy you want, the only guy you see, the only guy you love"

Her eyes are huge, blinking, as she whispers, "Love?"

"Yes love! I fucking love you! What do you think that line about giving all of me in the song is about? The devotion line? It's everything I want to give you!", I shout, "And by the way, you can be damn sure, I'd fuck you right!"

The look of utter shock on her face is insane to me

"I'm fucking stupidly in love with you!", I yell, to make everything clear

"Then why didn't you say that!", she yells back, standing up, making Bam yelp, jump off the couch and leave the room

"Because I was fucking scared! You fucking mean everything to me! I didn't want to lose you because you don't feel the same way!", I yell

"That's your fault! I never gave you the impression that you couldn't tell me anything or that I'd ever drop you, no matter what!"

"I was scared!"

"You didn't have to be!"

"Well how the fuck should I have known that?"

"You would have if you'd open your fucking mouth instead of dropping stupid hints like we're in high school!", she roars, "If you'd open your stupid mouth you'd know that you are the only guy I ever wanted! That I want to be your girlfriend for literally years! You'd know that I'm stupidly in love with you too! You fucking jerk!"

I open my mouth to yell at her when what she says sinks into my brain

She....loves me?

"And by the way, I love that your stupid song is about me and you better be damn sure you're gonna fuck me right", she yells, "And to start you better get your ass over here and kiss me right fucking now Jeon, Jungkook!"

My feet move immediately, practically running to her

Pulling her into my arms, I crash my lips against hers in an explosive kiss that shocks my entire body

I feel like my body is on fire, fireworks going off and I knew, I knew she's the one

Her arms move around my neck, her body pressing against mine as my arms wrap securely around her

My tongue finds hers, pressing together and shivers run up my spine

When we pull away, I smile, running my fingers in her hair, my eyes on her gorgeous brown ones

"I love you", I finally say

"I love you", she smiles, "My Kookie"

I nod, leaning my forehead against hers, "Always yours"

She kisses me again just as I was about to kiss her

I pick her up as the kiss deepens, heading right to my room

Bam is laying on the floor and he needs to get out right now

"Bam, out. Living room"

He whines but gets up and leaves the room

I close the door, sparks running up my spine as her lips press into my neck over and over again

I get her on my bed, kissing her passionately as I begin to undress her

I need her now

She helps me get her clothes off, pulling mine off at the same time, the clothing thrown all over my room

"Jesus Kookie", she says, gaping at me, her eyes widening when she looks at my dick, "That's...wow... very....huge"

I smirk at her, "Yeah. It's all for you baby"

She swallows hard as I get on the bed next to her

Pushing her down on the bed, I get my first glimpse of her, my mouth dropping

She's fucking amazing

Her stomach actually has some girl abs that I had no clue would turn me on

They're not cut into her like mine are but the faint lines are there

And now I noticed the small muscles in her arms and her thighs, muscles that were always covered up by clothes

Add the tattoos sprinkled all over her body I had no idea about and she's like my wet dream

"I didn't know you worked out", I say, touching her stomach

"Uh yeah. I don't go to a gym or anything, I just do it at home", she says, nervously, "Do....do you not like it? Do I look like a guy?"

I scoff, "No Joanne, you do not look like a guy. Don't be dumb. You're fucking gorgeous baby. God, I didn't know I'd be this turned on by your muscles baby"

"Really?", she asks quietly

"Really baby", I assure her, "And this just means that now you have to come work out with me"

She raises her eyebrow, "You want to do that?"

"Definitely", I nod, "We can work out together and then I can fuck you all over the gym"

Her cheeks turn so red, making me grin

"I'm gonna fuck you against every wall, on every machine we use and in the shower", I tell her, lowering my mouth to her ear, changing to a whisper, "Then I'm gonna bring you home and fuck you all over my apartment"

"Fuck Kookie", she whimpers

God I'm so turned on and I can't stop my hands from roaming all over her pretty body

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna fuck you so good. Every fucking day, all day"

"Seven days a week?", she giggles making me chuckle too

"Damn right baby. Gonna fuck you right, eat your pretty pussy just right, make you cum over and over for me", I tell her, leaning down, pressing kisses to her chest as I grope her boobs, "Make you scream my name until I'm the only thing in your pretty head. Fill your tiny pussy up with my cum, watch it drip out of you"

"Fuck Kookie"

"Mmm baby", I whisper, kissing around her nipple, "Then after I'm gonna kiss you, hold you, cuddle you"

I stop kissing her, looking up into her eyes, "And I'm gonna love you right every day of my life Jo. You're my everything and I love you so much"

She smiles, her fingers running in my hair, pushing it off my forehead, "I love you Kookie. Always baby"

I smile, letting her love wash over me, making me so fucking happy

Moving to her lips, I give her a sweet kiss, savoring the feel of her lips against mine

Then I pull away and immediately attach my mouth to her nipple, sucking on the perfect bump

"Jungkook, fuck!", she moans, her hand burying in my hair

God, her nipple is so hard, easy to suck on as I squeeze her boobs over and over

Her tits are amazing and I know I'm gonna be on them all the fucking time

Switching between nipples, I suck and lick all the while trailing my hand down her sexy body

Getting between her legs, I slide two fingers inside

She's so wet she takes them easily, moaning loudly as I massage inside her cunt

Her pussy clenches tightly around my fingers and I can't fucking wait to get her around my dick

She's gonna feel so fucking good

Pulling my fingers almost out, I thrust them back in, listening to her wet cunt take them

Moving faster, I thrust into her again and again, trying to find her spot

After a few more pumps, she moans so loudly, clamping down on my fingers, her pretty body shaking

Found it

Making sure I hit there as I finger her, I spread kisses down her body, feeling her skin tremble under my lips

I like that a lot

Finally getting between her legs, I watch her wet hole take my fingers, creaming them as I kiss her thighs, mesmerized by the sight

"So pretty baby", I murmur

My eyes land on her throbbing clit and fuck me, I need it in my mouth now

Leaning forward, I give her bump a lick, making her shout in pleasure, then I suck it in my mouth

It throbs against my lips, sending bliss down to my hard cock and I can't stop myself, I start sucking on her hard and fast

"Jungkook!", she cries and oh man, I never loved hearing my name more than this second

I keep my fingers moving at a steady pace, pressing on her spot again and again, slurping on her perfect clit

Both of her hands move into my hair, gripping hard as she cries out in pleasure

Fuck, she's so hot

I swear I had to be fucking stupid to not notice her sooner

She's the most beautiful, sexy, hot, stunning girl I've ever seen

I'm so happy everything worked out and she's finally mine

"Jungkook! I....I'm...I", she trails off into a moan

Hearing her fuels me to go harder and I suck on her faster, loving the way her clit feels in my mouth

God, I'm so gonna eat her out everyday

Not only do I love making her feel good, I'm enjoying this so much too

Another tug on her bump has her screaming my name, her body arching off the bed as she cums, holding my head against her cunt

I don't stop sucking, making sure she feels the pleasure throughout her orgasm, her pussy pulsing so hard around my fingers, soaking my hand

Feels so good

When she finishes, I slide my tongue down as I pull my fingers out

Licking around her hole, her cum hits my tongue and I moan from how absolutely sweet she tastes

Opening her legs more, I run my tongue on her more, swallowing her creamy cum

God, she's so good

How is she this good?

Fuck

When I get everything, I don't stop licking her, sliding my tongue up between her swollen lips then lavishing her clit again before sliding back down

"Kkk... Kookie..."

"Need more"

"Huh?"

"Need more of you", I tell her between licks

My god her pussy is so soft against my tongue, so fucking wet

I love it

"You do?"

"Oh yeah baby", I answer, running my tongue along her slit, "You taste so fucking good baby. I need more"

"Jesus", she whispers, only making me chuckle

"I need you to cum in my mouth baby so I can swallow you're yummy cream"

"What?", she squeaks

"Oh yeah baby", I continue, swirling my tongue around her little hole, "Your cum tastes amazing and I need more"

"Fuck"

"Gonna give it to me?", I ask, poking my tongue into her hole, wiggling inside her

"Yes! Yes Kookie!", she cries, her body arching again

God that sight it so fucking beautiful, it's burned in my memory

Pulling my tongue out, I lick up her cunt then plunge my tongue back in, her cries so fucking beautiful

Her fingers twist in my hair hard as I tongue fuck her, my own hands on her thighs, keeping her legs spread wide open for me

Her cunt throbs around my tongue each time I dive into her, the pulses going straight to my dick

I'm so fucking horny and I need to fuck her soon

I need to know what it's like to be inside her

Soon, I tell myself, soon

The next plunge in her cunt sends her over the edge, her pussy squeezing my tongue as she cums all over it

"Jungkook! Jungkook!"

I'm hit with her delicious taste, moaning as I keep swallowing until I'm sure I get it all

So good

I give her one long lick after she finishes, then move away

She starts to sit up, but I move over her, gently pushing her back down

"But don't you want-"

I shake my head as I get her legs around me, "Not now baby. I'm fucking dying to be inside you"

She smirks, moving her arms around my back, pulling me on top of her, skin to skin

Fuck, she feels so soft, so smooth against me

"Is that so?", she asks, lifting her head, kissing my cheek

I nod, "Want you so bad baby"

"Then it's good I want you just as badly"

"Yeah?", I ask shyly

I have been very vocal about wanting to fuck her and I'm glad she feels the same about me

Her hand moves between us, wrapping around my dick

"Fuck, so big baby", she murmurs, stroking me, pleasure entering my body, "Are you gonna fit?"

I nod, moaning softly, "Yeah baby. I'm gonna stretch you out so good. Make you fit around me"

"Promise?", she smiles

"Promise baby", I agree

She moves my cock to her hole just as her lips crash against mine

I push in, my head slipping inside her

She drenches me as I move in inch by inch, spreading her unbelievably tight pussy around my cock

"Jungkook! Fuck!", she moans, her pussy taking my cock so well

God she feels so good, sucking me in as I move

Fuck

"Oh fuck, yes baby", I moan when I finally slide all inside her tight pussy, my body actually shaking

"Kookie, oh god, Kookie!", she cries, her body pressed right against mine, clinging onto me

"Fuck, you're even better than I imagined", I murmur

"Imagined?", she whimpers quietly

Smiling at her, I nod, "Yeah. If you don't think I fantasized about having your sweet pussy wrapped around my cock all the damn time then you're crazy"

Her entire face flushes pink and it's so cute

"Is...is it just like you imagined?"

"Better", I tell her, "So much better baby"

She smiles shyly, "You're better than I imagined too"

I smile wider, proud that she thought of us together

At least I wasn't the only one

Kissing her, I start moving, pulling back then plunging back in

"Oh my fucking god", I moan, feeling her spread open so pleasurably, pulsing hard when I'm all in, "Oh baby fuck"

Her pussy is so loud, the wet slippery noises of my cock fucking her so fucking pretty to listen to

I need more

I need to go deeper

Moving my arms under her legs, I push them to her chest, getting on my knees and pounding into her cunt at a rapid speed

I get in so much deeper, slamming into her spot, her screams getting louder and louder, feeling out of this world

When I look down, I see her cunt creaming my cock so much, it's fucking all over

I have never seen a pussy this creamy, not even in porn

And it's all mine

All fucking mine

Each pound into her cunt splits her open on my dick as I move harder and harder, the sound of our skin slapping mixing with the sound of her squelching pussy

Something I'm so excited to listen to every day

With each move inside her, I watch her stomach bulge, so turned on knowing my cock is that deep inside her

"Do you feel how we were made for each other?", I ask her as I fuck into her, "Do you feel how my cock was meant to be inside you? How your pussy was made to be wrapped around my cock and only mine?"

"Yes", she cries, her fingers gripping my arms so hard, her eyes closed, face in pleasure

"Do you feel how I was made to move inside you baby?"

"Yes Jungkook", she moans, "Yes baby"

"You were made for me baby. Everything about you, you were meant for me", I tell her, really believing that, "And I was made for you Jo. Just for you"

She nods in agreement, "Yes Kookie. Just for you baby"

"I love you", I tell her

Her eyes open and I can see the love for me in them

It's truly aweing

"I love you Jungkook"

Crashing my lips to hers, I soak in her words, her kiss and I'm utterly happy

Her pussy clamps down hard around me, pulsing at the speed of light and I know she's close

"Cum for me baby. Cum for my cock", I murmur, pressing kisses into her neck, listening to her moan my name over and over

This is something I can get used to every fucking day

"Oh my god, Kookie", she cries, her fingers digging into my arms as she clenches my cock in a death grip, coming so fucking beautifully

I watch her, mesmerized while unbelievable pleasure hits me hard

"Jungkook! Jungkook!", she cries, her small body shaking against me

Fucking hell, it feels so good

So goddamn good

I'm ready to explode but I push back my orgasm

I'm not ready to be out of her pussy yet

Thrusting into her, I fuck her through her orgasm, her body relaxing when she's finished

"Good baby?", I smile

"Amazing", she says, breathing hard as she struggles to sit up

"Baby-", I start

"Wanna ride you", she says and I nod, so down for that

Pulling out, I let her push me down on my back, watching her climb in my lap

I'm so fucking excited as I realize I get to watch her body as she fucks me

Oh my god this is going to be amazing

I watch her get my head in her hole, then watch her hole spread and strain as she slides down my cock

There's so much fucking cream pouring from her cunt, her pussy only getting wetter the more she takes me

She finally bottoms me out, sitting on me, her hips immediately rocking on me

The tight grip around my cock feeling absolutely perfect, her throbbing increasing the more she grinds on me

"Fuck baby, this pussy feels so good", I murmur, placing my hands on her hips and slowly moving them up her body

I love touching her skin, feeling her muscles underneath

Such a turn on

"Mmm baby", she whimpers, "Love your hands on me baby"

"Don't worry baby" I assure her, "I'm good to be touching you every single day, just feeling your pretty skin, your pretty body"

"Mm", she murmurs, leaning back on my legs

Her hips lift, sliding up my cock, leaving a glistening mess on my length

It's so fucking pretty

She slides down quickly, taking me all in right away and I can't help but yell in pleasure when I'm back inside her

She keeps moving, her bounces getting harder and faster with each one

I watch my perfect girlfriend ride me, her boobs bouncing in my face, a light sheen of sweat all over her, pleasure in her face

I'm so fucking lucky she's mine

So lucky

Gripping her hips, I fall into the feeling of her pussy engulfing my cock, the spasms, the way she soaks me, a pretty ring of cream forming around the base of my cock

I'm in heaven

"Promise you'll bounce on my cock like this everyday baby", I murmur

"I promise", she moans, riding me harder, her pussy clinging to my length in a vice grip

"I promise I'll fuck you everyday", I promise her, "I'll eat your pussy everyday baby. I promise"

"Yeah Kookie", she whimpers, her cunt so close to coming

"I'll fill your cunt with my cum everyday"

"Yes Kookie. Want that so much", she moans, "Fuck, wanna be full of you. Full of your cock, full of your cum"

"You will be baby. I promise", I breathe, sweat rolling down my face

She slams down, my head rubbing her spot and she screams my name as she cums

Her hands grab my wrists, my entire lap flooded

Looking down, I realize she's squirting on my cock and that sight sends me over the edge

"I'm gonna cum!", I yell

"Inside my pussy! Fill me baby", she cries

I grab her waist, pulling her down on me as ecstacy tidal waves over me, shooting my cum into her squirting pussy

"Oh my fucking god! Joanne! Oh fuck!", I yell, stars blasting in my eyes from the sheer bliss

I can't...it's never felt this good before

Never

My body shakes hard and I'm just lost in the pleasure

Lost in her

I come back from that intense orgasm to kisses on my face and her voice murmuring, "I love you" over and over

I move my arms around her, hugging her to me, whispering, "I love you Jo"

She smiles, gives me a soft kiss, then moves off me, laying next to me

Turning to face her, I pull her into my arms, cuddling into her

She giggles, her arm wrapping around my body in a hug

Looking down at her, I smile widely

"What?", she asks

"Afterglow", I tease

She bursts out laughing, "You dork!"

I chuckle, nuzzling into her neck, giving her soft kisses, "That's your dork"

"Yeah mine", she giggles, "All mine"

"Fuck baby, you have no idea how happy you make me when you say that. I never thought you'd be mine Jo"

"I am", she assures me, "And you're my Kookie"

"Always baby", I promise, gently pressing my lips against hers

After the kiss, she snuggles into me and I'm having the best fucking time, holding her tightly

"Cuddle time", she says so adorably

"Yeah baby. All cuddles all the time"

Her musical laughter fills the room and I know I'll never tire of hearing it

"Nap time?", she asks, making me laugh

"Yeah baby but first I have to ask you something"

"Mm what is it?"

"Well it's about the song"

"What about it?"

I've been thinking about this since I recorded the song and I really hope she goes for it

"I want you to be in the music video"

Her eyes shoot open, her mouth dropping, "What?"

"I want you to be in the music video with me", I repeat, "The managers, director and I were talking about the video and we all agreed that there should be a girl in it with me"

"But doesn't the director already have someone? An actress?"

I nod, "Yeah, he does but I asked him to hold off on contacting the actress. I told him I had someone in mind but I had to ask first"

"I...I don't know what to say"

"Say yes baby", I ask, "I just, I want you in the video. It's a song for you, about you baby. I don't want to pretend to sing it to an actress. I want you"

She bites her lip hesitantly, "But Kookie, won't ARMYS ask you who I am? Who the girl is in the video? I'm not a well known actress that they will recognize. I don't want it to cause problems for you"

I know why she's worried

I know ARMYS would get mad about a girl in the video

I see the ridiculous comments some leave about how they'll stop supporting me if a girl is in the video

Or how upset and hurt they would be

It's ridiculous

I'm not allowed to have someone special but they can?

It's not fair and to be honest I don't care if they're mad

I'm not sixteen anymore

I'm not a sheltered baby

And if I want my girlfriend in my music video I damn well will

If she agrees of course

"Baby, when they ask me that I'm going to tell them the truth"

"The truth?", she gapes

"Yes", I nod, "I'm going to tell them you're my girlfriend and that I'm ridiculously in love with you"

"Kookie, you can't-"

"Yes baby, I can", I say gently, "I don't care if they get mad. I'm not going to lie to them either. They either support me or they don't. But I'm not hiding you. Not a chance in hell"

She doesn't say anything, shock over her face

"So will you be in my music video?"

A small smile forms on her face as she nods, "Yeah baby. Ok"

A huge relief washes over me

"Thanks baby", I say, then give her a kiss

"Just don't blame me if you're career tanks after this", she mumbles

"I won't", I laugh, "Don't worry so much baby. As long as we're together, everything will be fine"

She giggles, nodding, settling into my arms, "Ok Kookie. I love you"

"I love you too baby"