#Jesus saw a large crowd

[dwuerch-blog]

Happy Palm Sunday! What Did Jesus See?

Not long ago, a new couple moved into an apartment across the hall from us. We welcomed them, and after that, would have casual conversation with them. The wife was always in a wheelchair. I never asked why. But one day, no questions asked, I was prompted to pray for her. They welcomed the prayer, and since then, we have been great “Hello and Good-Bye” kinds-of-friends. But, at last Thursday…

[pellucid-constellations]

Faking It

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: This is FLUFF!! With HOCKEY MAN

a/n:​​​ This was originally something completely different but then I hated it so now it's all fluff and now I do not hate it. Pleaseeeee let me know what you think and if you enjoy it!! I love you thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Again?” 

Bucky grinned, split lip tightening uncomfortably. When he turned to his captain, he had the gall to act oblivious. “What do you mean, captain?” 

Steve gave him a disapproving look. “Give it up, pal. There was no need to pick a fight with that guy and you know it.” 

“He was talking shit about the team!” 

“They’ll always be a player talking shit about the team.” 

“Then why’re you breathing down my neck right now, huh? We won. Be happy, Cap,” Bucky encouraged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Steve raised a brow back at him but was clearly fighting back a smirk. Bucky could tell by the way his eyes lifted, contrasting his deep—albeit fake—frown. 

In truth, Bucky had been looking for a fight. He’d been looking for a plethora of fights since the start of the season, and was usually quite successful with his venture. It had garnered him quite the reputation, but where the crowd saw it as a short-fuse on a large man, Steve saw it for what it really was. 

An opportunity to see you. 

And while Steve could appreciate the dedication, it made one of his best players ride out unnecessary time in the penalty box. 

“I am happy. Just not with you,” Steve clarified, knocking Bucky’s arm away. 

Bucky let out a sound close to a scoff. “Even with my extra time in the sin bin I still helped carry. It’s just part of the game, Steve. Gotta protect the team’s pride.” 

“Yeah,” Steve drawled sarcastically, stopping in front of the locker room doors. “I’m sure that was your reasoning. What was it last game? Someone said something about your ma?” 

“Hey, he did.” 

“They always do.”

Heavy footsteps created a commotion in the hall, the rest of the team finally catching up with the pair. They funneled their way into the room for showers and a fresh change of clothes, and Steve stood with his crossed arms leaning against the wall, somehow still directing an admonishing look towards Bucky amidst the crowd. Bucky did his best to look baffled by the unspoken accusation, but then Sam Wilson passed by and Bucky’s ploy was disintegrated. 

“Hey man,” Sam greeted, slapping a friendly hand against Bucky’s arm as he passed. “You let someone beat the shit out of you again so you could go see your girl?” 

Bucky’s scoff returned, but this time Steve was having none of it. He kicked off of the wall and went to follow the rest of the team into the locker room. Bucky watched with a grimace, not only caught, but put on display.

“You know,” Steve called over his shoulder, not expecting Bucky to follow. “You’re dating the girl now. You don’t gotta keep up with this whole schtick.” 

“I don’t have a schtick,” he called back. At the responding laugh from Steve, Bucky yelled, “I don’t!” but no one was listening to him. Or believing him. 

But fine. If his schtick involved you, in any capacity, Bucky would admit to having one. 

Some of what Steve said was right. Bucky was dating you now. You were his girl and that would imply total access to you all the time, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to pick fights or feign injuries anymore (the latter never really worked anyways), because he had a key to your apartment. And you were in his bed more weekends than not. 

But, damn, were you busy right now. 

Bucky had never really considered how much schooling went into becoming a physical therapist until he met you. You were typically swamped with papers and tests and requests from Dr. Cho, but this past month had been exponentially worse thanks to finals. He had seen you about once a week if he was lucky, and that was a generous estimation. Add your crazy schedule to the alarming amount of away games he had over the past few weeks and he was champing at the bit to see you. 

Bucky just prayed it was you in the training room today and not Dr. Cho. His odds were pretty favorable considering the team’s main trainer didn’t usually stick around after games if there were no major injuries, but there was always the off chance she let her interns go home early. But, knowing you, you would be in that room until the rink lights went off. 

God, he loved you. Every overworked, high-strung bit of you. 

He even loved the scolding look you shot him as he pushed open the training room doors, his bruises and cuts on full display. You dropped the pen you were tapping against an overflowing notebook and rocketed out of your rolling stool, and Bucky adored the way you stomped over to him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the curse you clearly wanted to let free. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky smiled, this time ignoring the sting in his lip. “Funny seeing you here.” 

You huffed, bringing careful fingers up to his chin. “Not very funny,” you mumbled. “Not when you look like someone hit you with their car.” 

Bucky let you fuss for a moment, following your touch as you turned his head back and forth and examined his split knuckles. This was your job, so obviously he let you do it, but he enjoyed watching you. So he didn’t stop you from lifting his jersey up to inspect his middle, because how else would he catch the cute way you scrunch your nose up in concentration? If he pulled his hands away when you started testing the range of motion in his wrists, when else would he be able to track your lips as you softly counted and mouthed gentle confirmations? 

Never. Because you were so damn busy. 

“Missed you,” Bucky said after sneaking a kiss on your forehead while you were prodding at the bruise on his collarbone. “I’ve been missing you a lot.” 

You let a small smile interrupt the disgruntlement on your face. Bucky grinned at the change, pressing another kiss to your hair while he still could. 

“Did you miss me enough to send a right hook into that guy’s jaw?” 

“Yes.” 

Your smile was gone again. Now you looked aghast. “Bucky.” 

“What?” he exclaimed, sliding his torn hands from your healing ones to wrap you in his embrace. “You want me to lie instead? Okay, fine. No, sweetheart, I didn’t start a fight just to have an excuse to see you. That guy got all these punches in on me because I’m out of practice, is all. I don’t think about you every waking second of my life, and while we’re at it, no I did not use your shampoo this morning because I miss how—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, resting your forehead on the divot in his chest. “I get it. Thanks for being truthful.” 

Bucky relished in the feel of you. He had been slightly worried that his state would cause you to be more upset than anything. If you weren’t so tired right now, there was a high chance you’d be yelling at him because of his recklessness instead of resting against his chest. So Bucky jumped at the opportunity, trailing one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. He craned his neck down, burying his face into the juncture of your neck. 

He hadn’t been lying about the shampoo. 

“I miss you too. Even if you act like an idiot sometimes,” you mumbled against his jersey. 

Something in Bucky felt lighter, warm. “Acting like an idiot’s the only way I get to see my girl.” 

You hummed. “Sorry ‘m so busy.” 

You had to be exhausted. Not even a single reprimand had tumbled from your mouth. Bucky had expected at least three. 

“When’s the last time you slept, baby?” Bucky kept his voice low, his thumb making unconscious circles against your hair. 

“I don’t know. In the night.” 

“Okay, thanks smart ass.” Bucky jostled you a bit until your eyes met his. “I meant when did you last take a break? Get a good night’s sleep?” 

You sighed, gaze trailing over his face. “Let me fix you up. Then we can play twenty questions.” 

“Baby—”

“No, Buck, this is the training room, if you haven’t noticed,” you quipped, stepping back and rifling through a few drawers. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you. That’s my job.” 

“Well, what about my job?” he grumbled back. 

“You have failed at your job. Your job is hockey and you instead played human punching bag.” 

“Not that job. My other job. The one where I take care of you.” 

You spun on your heel, a basket of supplies resting on your hip. The sweater that engulfed your frame had the university’s logo stamped across the front, but instead of jeans or slacks—the usual uniform for PT interns—you wore leggings. Your hair was pulled back in the most endearing, pretty mess, and Bucky’s chest hurt as he looked at you. 

“My tired girl,” he hummed, bringing his hand up to your cheek as you pushed him down on the exam chair. He sat if only to appease you, his feet still flat on the floor even with the tall seat.

“I’m only a little tired,” you weakly fought. Bucky chuckled in response, sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. “Now let me clean you up.” 

You snapped gloves onto your hands and Bucky fought back a petulant whine. If he had been any other member of the team, those gloves would have been on the second they walked in the door. He should be grateful, then, that you only put them on when it was time to tend to his wounds, but he wasn’t. He missed you too much to feel latex instead of your skin. 

Bucky’s lip stung as you cleaned it, but he hardly flinched. If he moved, he would miss the pretty way you bit into your lip as you stared at him. 

“Remember when I’d be in here all the time?” he asked when you turned back down to grab antibiotic cream. 

You let out a tired laugh. “How could I forget? You picked a fight every game. If that didn't work you’d come stumbling in here complaining about a torn ACL or whatever. Big liar.” 

“I wouldn’t call it lying.” 

The smile you gave him was replicated on his own face. 

“You were literally lying.” You dabbed the cream on his lip, and then moved to the cut on his cheek. “You would come limping in here and then I’d see you an hour later running out to the parking lot.” 

“You wouldn’t look at me if I wasn’t injured.” 

“It was my job, Bucky!” you laughed, eyes giving away your amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the players. I’m pretty sure Cho only lets us be together because you wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.” 

Bucky moved his hands from his thighs to your waist, tugging you closer as you worked. “Hey, sometimes drastic measures are needed.” 

“You called her multiple times a day… bought her an edible arrangement. Wait, didn’t you offer to drive her kids to school a few times?” 

“It worked, didn’t it,” he posed, nudging his nose against your cheek. You giggled, lightly slapping his arm to get away. 

“The edible arrangement was a good touch,” you relented. 

Bucky released you as you wiggled from his grip, flitting around the training room to put supplies back. He spotted your backpack in the corner of the room, unzipped with the water bottle tipping out. When you sat down at the computer to document his care, which he found a bit ridiculous (you only put a bandaid on his face), Bucky walked over and gathered your things. He did so slowly so you wouldn’t notice; you probably had plans to stay at the rink for another few hours, and that was not okay with him. 

With a final zip and your water bottle now standing upright, Bucky meandered over to your seated position. He hooked his chin over your shoulder as you worked, leaning over and tapping your phone screen for the time. His heart twisted warmly in his chest when he saw a picture of himself smiling under the 8:00 pm displayed on the homescreen. 

After all the pining and work it took to get you, Bucky often felt this wasn’t real. 

God, he loved you. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you whispered, clicking away at the computer. “I still have some charting to do. Peter hit his head yesterday and I have to do the follow up work.” 

Still in his uniform, Bucky wrapped you up from behind. Now you would both need a shower and he could get you to leave. He kissed the back of your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek as he craned his neck to watch you work. You smelled like fresh laundry and books and the subtle hint of your perfume.

“Parker’s fine. He was up and playing today. Let’s go home, baby,” Bucky murmured, most of his words spoken against your skin. 

“I know he’s okay. But head injuries are a completely different protocol and I have to—” 

“I miss you,” he reiterated. “And you’re working too hard. All the lights are off in the rink ‘cept for this one. Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.” 

“Why don’t you shower and change first? I’ll leave with you once you finish.” 

Bucky spun your stool around suddenly, one hand on your waist, the other reaching back to steady himself on the desk now at your back. “Oh no, don’t try to pull that on me. I get back in here, you’re gonna tell me you started something new you can only finish on the PT computer and you can’t leave for another hour. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You let out a quick sigh, caught. “Well, what about—” 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupted. He used his far hand to shut the facility computer and then guided you up. “You’re coming home with me. You’re gonna sit in the car while I drive you to my apartment and then we’re gonna take a shower together and I’m gonna make you feel so good you don’t even remember what a concussion is.” 

“Bucky,” you chastised, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

His laugh shook your head. “Still so damn shy.” He reached down to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of your neck, meeting your averted gaze. “Just me in here, baby.” 

“I know. But you don’t have to be so vulgar.” 

“Vulgar? Sweetheart, if you want vulgar I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you the second we—” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth, careful for the delicate skin there. Still, Bucky was sure you could feel his smile against your skin, and he fought back an even bigger one when he saw the embarrassed twist of your brow. 

Slowly, he pried your wrist down, kissing the palm of your hand on the way. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the slightest.

You pursed your lips, flustered. “You’re such an antagonizer.”

Bucky could do this every day and never grow tired of it. It had been months now and he found himself only wanting you more. 

“Can’t help it. I love you.”

Your faux annoyance morphed into a bashful smile, the kind Bucky remembered from his time faking injuries. It was reminiscent of when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes, or smile at his flirting, or give him any reaction he was looking for. 

But he always got what he wanted in the end. 

And, more than anything, he wanted you. 

“That one do the trick?” Bucky asked. “Am I finally getting my girl to come home with me?” 

When you looked up at him with raised brows and a smile twisted up at the corners, he knew you’d given up. Perfect timing, too, because—in all honesty—Bucky had been punched in the side during his on-ice tussle, and his ribs were starting to hurt. You were going to be pissed when you saw the bruise form tomorrow morning, but you would be pissed in his bed, so it was worth it to Bucky.

“I have to get a little bit of homework done when we get there,” you reasoned, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, dropping one down over your shoulders as you both walked out. “Okay, okay. Homework at my place, I got it.” 

“That comes first, Bucky. Before anything else. Shower, then homework, and then… other things.” 

“I know what first means, baby.” 

“Good.” 

But Bucky had other plans, and they did not involve homework. He was pretty sure you were ahead, anyways. Like, weeks ahead, actually. 

“You eat dinner yet?” he asked, fishing his keys from his pocket. 

You looked up at him, incredulous. “What did I just say?” 

“What?” he defended, tugging you closer as the wind in the parking lot whipped at your clothes. “I can’t make sure my girl’s had dinner? What am I allowed to do?”

You only scoffed, tucking yourself further into his side. “Keep me warm.” 

“Always, baby.” 

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine a jealous bucky

The sound of the waves crowded Bucky’s brain, mind circling as he focused on the scene painted in front of him. He sat, toes dug into the sand, guarding him from something he wasn’t sure of. Was it envy? He hoped not, but he sensed it – the burning green haze clouding his thoughts. He watched, sullen, as Clint grabbed you by waist. He pulled you from a large uninviting wave and when you screamed in delight, Bucky looked down at his covered feet. Clint was a married man, what was he doing with his hands all over you. What were you doing looking so wonderful under the sun?

He hated this feeling.

“Seaweed.”

Steve towered over Bucky, hands on his hips as he looked out to the ocean. Bucky said nothing, but grimaced when his friend explained he was as green as a seaward. “You do know nothings going on with those two? He could be her uncle…”

“I could be her great-grandfather, what’s your point.”

This made Steve laugh and he promptly sat next to his friend. He examined the look on Bucky’s face before watching Clint and you. The pair of you were like children, most times he had to rein you in, especially on missions. Neither of you swayed from the other, always having the other’s back – even if they were wrong. Bucky didn’t seem to understand that Clint and you were bonded, connected through years of missions and week-long stakeouts. For a long time, it had been just Clint and you. He had never seen anything but platonic love.

“…his kids think of her as their aunt.”

No words could simmer jealously running through his veins; he knew the truth, deep down he knew he could never be good enough for you. It didn’t matter if nothing was going on between the archer and you – he knew there wasn’t anything there, but still…

The water came to your waist, hand blocking the sun in your eyes as you watched Clint dive into the water. Your eyes squinted waiting for him to pop back up and when he did, you joined him deeper in the ocean. He reached out and grabbed you by the forearm, pulling you to his side. Floating next to him, you stared out toward the base of the beach. Bucky was sitting with Steve, the two shirtless and stunning but the dark-haired man was the one focused on. So smoldering, so lovely.

“Down dog.” Clint teased, closing his eyes when you splashed water at him. He wiped his face and laughed. “Two sick little puppies, Jesus, get a room.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” you muttered, eyes zeroing on Bucky. It seemed in that moment; he met your gaze and all you could manage was a dorky wave. “Smooth.” Ignoring Clint, you started back toward the sand, and he didn’t bother calling for you – instead, he enjoyed the sun on his face as he floated along. Bucky watched as you approached, his heart racing as he glanced over the swimsuit you wore. He tried not to agonize over how gorgeous you looked.

“Enjoying the water?”

“I need a break.”

Bucky patted the spot next to him on the blanket and Steve quickly made an excuse to grab some drinks from the beverage stand. You asked for two cokes, one for Clint, and the flinch in Bucky’s face didn’t go unnoticed as you sat beside him. You had never known Bucky for being the jealous type, but you recognized envy when you saw it. Plopping down, your bare shoulders pressed against his and when you leaned into it, Bucky just smiled at you.

“I’m glad we got some time off, I needed this.”

“Looked like you were having fun…”

“Yeah, Clint knows how to handle the waves really nicely.” Hiding a smile, you watched for Bucky’s reaction and nearly died at the narrowness in his eyes. Oh, if looks could kill – Barton would be a dead man ten times over.  Deciding not to push too far, you touched Bucky’s thigh. He glanced over at you with a dazed expression that you could paint a million times in your mind. His eyes softer as they laid upon you; skin hot from the sun – he was perfect. “Let’s go in the water…please.”

The last word, tender and quiet, broke Bucky; he knew then, that he would do anything for you. He smiled, getting up and lending out a hand. Taking it, you rose to your feet and started toward the water. He watched, taking in the moment before jogging to catch up. You led him away from where Clint and you had been, waddling in the water backwards. Beckoning him to hurry; Bucky laughed, rushing into the cold water to catch up to you. He lost his balance, stubbing his toe on a rock as the water reached his waist. Stumbling forward, he fell into the water, and you laughed. Quickly, you swam to where he went under, pulling him up from under his arms. His metal arm glistened in the water as he took a breath of air, laughing at the mishap. His back pressed against your chest, as you held him up; hands slipping around his chest. Unable to control your laughter, you ended up losing balance as well – the two of you tumbling back into the ocean.

This time Bucky had you in his arms in seconds, holding you up as he stood on his feet. His arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you afloat as your big toe could barely touch the bottom of the ocean. Cracking up, you gave in to Bucky’s strength. “Just hold on to me, I’m too tired.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling your back firmly against his chest. “That’s fine by me.”

Relaxing with the back of your head on his shoulder, you quietly asked if he was jealous of Clint. He answered with a quick yes. You rotated yourself in his arms to face him. Bucky’s face was inches from yours, relaxed as you slipped both arms around his neck. The sound of the waves rang in his ears, going silent when you told him that there was no need to be.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Those words, he had waited so long to hear but he still felt an inch of guilt. He sighed, looking away before shaking his head. “You deserve better than me.”

‘Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed much to Bucky’s surprise. He was speechless when you grabbed him by the chin, looking directly into his wonderous eyes. “Never in my life have I ever let a man dictate what I need or deserve. I want you and that’s that. I always get what I want, understood?”

His stoic expression urged for an add on. “Only if you want me back, I would like things to be mutually beneficial.”

Letting his chin go, you waited for a response. A second later, you snapped. “An answer would be nice, preferably before the sun goes down…”

Finally, Bucky broke out into a smile. “Are you always going to be this bossy?”

Teasing little shit.

Yanking him by the neck, you leaned into his body; his arms around your waist, holding you up against the simmered waves. Your lips pressed against his and if the ocean decided to take the two of you away – Bucky Barnes would die a happy man.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Metalhead

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You had dragged Daryl along to something you liked last month, so now it was his turn.

To anyone around, including yourself it was clear you stood out from the crowd.

Inbetween the mass of black on black, spiked everything and the odd masked figures in red boiler suits your bright blue jeans and simple bright teeshirt.

Daryl had come along to your weekend event last month, so now it was your turn to join him to a concert.

"What's with the masks?" You were settled against Daryl's side, not entirely sure what to make of the group before you.

"Really, ya haven't paid any attention when I showed ya who we're seein' tonight?" Daryl, all decked out in his usual looks of heavy boots, black trousers with chains hanging off the belt loops and a black shirt that hugged his form ever so perfectly. It was printed with the picture of a blonde woman that you didn't recognise.

"Hey, Dixon!" A man's voice had you both turn and look behind you, where a bearded guy in a beanie walked up with two women in super gothy outfits, their makeup extreme but flawless.

You had never met Daryl's friends before and in all honesty you felt intimidated by them.

"Oh my god you brought your girl, finally!" One of the women gestured excitedly and hopped over to introduce herself, perfectly manicured hand outstretched for you to take. "Hi! I'm Viv, that's Sammy and Jesus." You shook everyone's hands and introduced yourself as well before Daryl did his rounds and gave everyone the biggest bear hugs. "Hey, hun." "How's the apartment lookin'?" "Tell yer mom I'm sorry fer not comin' over ta cook with 'er."

It was weird to see Daryl be so social. Normally he'd be the quiet one when you went out together, but now he was all smiles and talk.

"Gotta rep the guesting band, I see." The Jesus guy tugged on Daryl's shirt, staring at the print, while one of the girls chimed in. "You gotta know by now Dee's got the biggest crush on her." The three laughed as Daryl dismissed the comments, all while you stood by and listened to their banter. Who did Daryl have a crush on? What?

"Here, in case Daryl forgot to give you some." Sammy extended her hand to you and handed you a clear plastic baggie with two foam earplugs in them.

"Ah, crap.." Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously as he accepted a packet himself too. "Yer a lifesaver, Sam. Thanks."

You waited close to the front of the line for some more hours, having ordered food with a large group of people that all seemed to become friends at that moment.

Once the doors to the venue opened up you followed Daryl like a lost puppy, stuck to his arm in fear of getting lost in the sea of the dark clad people.

"Come on, Dixon, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, man. Barricade's gonna be full at this rate." His friend had already moved further along as you and Daryl put your stuff in a locker. "Go ahead. Takin' it easy with this one." Daryl's hand found your hair and ruffled it softly, much to your annoyance. But you appriciated his concern for you and was willing to not go full out.

You followed along with the stream of people and ended at the bar off to the side of the venue.

"One beer, and one--" Daryl gave you a look, and saw you just looking around the place, taking everything in. "And a Redbull, please."

By the time you had your drinks and the crowd had all settled in, the local opening band had started their first song. Daryl's beer was gone fast, kindly waiting for you to finish your overpriced can before slowly easing you into the crowd.

Every tine you stood still for a moment you took a peek at the stage, seeing the band perform the songs was something entirely different than hearing come from Daryl's huge sound installation at home.

Daryl was keeping a close eye on you the whole time, not caring much for the small band on stage. He was enjoying how curious you were. Less how easy it was to lose you in the crowd if he wasn't holding your hand.

"Yer havin' fun?" Daryl stood behind you with his hands loosely on your hips, you had found a spot closer where you could see the stage nicely.

You gave him a nod, resting your head against his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "Good, gotta lemme know when's gettin' too rowdy for ya, 'kay?"

"Promise, Dee." You turned to give him a quick kiss, laughing at how the previously considered scary people were all chanting along to the pop songs the speakers played between bands.

You were checking a few messages while you waited and hadn't noticed Daryl taking out his phone too until it was in front of you and his chin was resting on your shoulder. You looked up to see yourself on his screen, he was taking a selfie with you. Next to you he stuck out his tongue as he pressed the capture button and held it as he went to smooch your cheek.

He watched the short looping video back and added a caption before sending it off.

'Girlie's first metal gig!' He addded under it with a little black heart emoji.

The crowd around you cheered and hollered all of a sudden, making you look up and seeing the first members of the next band come onto the stage, waving and getting ready to perform.

You watched the stage didn't notice how giddy Daryl had gotten behind you. Most of the band had gotten onto the stage and an eery tune started playing that had part of the crowd whistle and cheer.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN."

Suddenly a loud, distorted voice called out from the speakers.

"I AM NOW PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU,"

More howls and whistles surrounded you as the eery tune continued.

"THE ONLY,"

"IN THIS MOMENT"

Spots beamed to the centre of the stage as a gorgeous woman appeared as the band's instruments joined the tune, starting the song.

Behind you you felt Daryl's body jerk against yours as he raised a fist and joined the crowd in cheer.

His body stayed pressed againts yours with his arms around you, hands resting on your hips and stomach as he swayed you along the tunes of the first song.

As the band played on the crowd got more rowdy, jumping around and bumping into each other making you stagger in Daryl's grip.

Daryl kept being your shield as the crowd's shoves got worse. "Ya wanna move?" He tapped your arm and pointed off to the side where you could suddenly see a wide open space inbetween the few people that separated you from it.

Over the intro tune of the song a large hole had formed in the crowd, a few people in the middle bouncing around as the lyrics went on.

With your lack of answering, Daryl just kept up holding onto you and kept his gaze between you and the pit.

The second the woman's voice went from a distorted speaking to a loud growled singing the crowd surged into the large open space, almost taking you and Daryl with them.

You didn't know where to look. The gorgeous frontwoman on the stage before you, or the massive swarm of people throwing themselves around next to you.

You peeked behind you at Daryl, who was staring, mesmerized by the woman leading the band. One arm stayed around you to ward off the thrashing crowd while the other one was raised above you in cheer.

The crowd bounced in unison making you want to join in, softly bopping to the beat on the balls of your feet. You knew nothing of the song so you went along with the crowd, much to Daryl's enjoyment as he joined in as well. You blended with the crowd now, barely noticing you were slowly moving around the floor agsin in the moving sea of people.

It was only when the band's set ended that you realised you had moved a lot closer and further off to the centre of the crowd.

Daryl had his face buried in the crook of your neck the second the band was off the stage, nuzzling against your skin and squeezing your soft thighs. "Yer havin' fun. S'good." His mumbling tone was barely audible over the waiting time music and the crowd's chatter. But you recognized the tone, he was getting high on your enjoyment. You could already tell that of the next band didn't interest him enough you'd be dragged into the nearest bathroom stall to show you just how much he loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

You found it cute how a big grump like Daryl got off on something as soft as seeing his girlfriend happy.

The intermission was a nice time to mellow out a bit before the headliner got on stage and quickly check your messages. This time it was your turn to send out a snapchat to your friends, showing them you were still alive and breathing.

A selfie of you in the dim lights with Daryl nuzzling your hair, and a simple text that read "having fun!".

While you sent away your snap and went to respond to a pauzed conversation from earlier the stagelights moved as the headliners entred the stage.

You scrambled to put your phone away with how wild the crowd got all of a sudden.

Almost immediately after the members got on stage a guitar rhytm set in and thr crowd moved around you, so much it made Daryl move along and before you knew it there was another empty space in the crowd.

Right next to where you stood at the edge of it.

The drums kicked in, joining the guitars and right next to you there were people running in circles in the open space.

Daryl had let go of you for a moment to look into the pit and right at that moment the song started in full blast. Daryl's arm got grabbed by someone passing by and got yanked into the whirlpool of people. "Sorry!" You heard him yell, leaving you on your own off to the side against his will.

"Daryl?!" You called in shock and backed up when a guy ran too close past you, stepping into another person's side.

"Ah, I'm sorry.." Your fun was gone in an instant and the guy saw it, carefully patting your arm and offering to shield you from the rowdyness of the pit. A careful nod was all you needed to share before going back to watch the band play and glance to your side whenever Daryl passed by.

You listened to the song and followed Daryl's movements, watching him throw himself around with a wide smile on his face.

With the song nearing its end the pool mellowed out and Daryl came back to you, panting and smiling, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing you in both his arms and pulling you into the still active pit, making you let out a yelp.

He moved along with the stream of people that ran in circles again and stepped back into the crowd after making two rounds, ending up almost at the centre front of the crowd.

Daryl's plan worked, snow standing close enough to his friends at the barricade. He whistled and saw Viv turn and reach out her hand to you.

"Grab, I'l follow." Daryl took the hand you didn't reach out with and you were pulled to the front with ease, quickly being squeezed between the two girls on the front row.

The view from your new spot was amazing, no heads blocking half of the stage, no shoulders moving just an inch to blind you entirely or needing to stand on your tiptoes to see.

You watched all the members perform up close, unable to resist the urge to photograph them all. It took you a moment before you noticed you recognised the song they were playing. Daryl had played it foe you, all those years back when he first got into this music.

You had heard it so often you could even hum along to the words, nodding to the rhythm. The girls beside you caught on quickly, smiling and nudging you to guide you along, showing you the 'proper barricade etiquette' as they called it.

Viv had your hand in hers, raising them together as the song ended and howled out in cheer along Sammy at your other side. Behind you Daryl, and beside him Jesus joined as well, Daryl's chest pressed against your back.

The music was loud, the crowd wild but the energy was one you never thought you'd welcome, there on your spot at the barricade of a heavy metal show.

Once the last song of the night ended you felt the cool air return around your body with the crowd leaving the hall.

"Think you swayed her?" Jesus asked Daryl. The two walked just a few steps behind you, watching you chatting happily with the two other girls beside you when you three suddenly made a turn towards the merchandise stand.

The men watched you all point out different things on the wall. "Course I did. 'S a lil' rebel, tha' one. She jus' gotta figure tha' out 'erself."

Jesus and Daryl caught up with you all, Daryl snaking his arms around your waist as he got to you. "Did ya find somethin', hun?" His chin rested on your head, taking a look at the wall for himself too as you waited for the person in front of you to finish their purchase.

"That one's pretty!" You pointed at one of thr shirts off to the side, having Daryl steer you towards the available salesperson.

"Girlie wants tha' second one op there." Daryl pointed at the shirt you liked, and moved on to some others as well. "Tour shirt in ..two XL, an' I'll take tha' last one down there."

The guy gathered all Daryl's choices and gave him the total, which Daryl happily paid before you joined your friends again off to the side.

"Always spending money, how much did you get this time?" Jesus crossed his arms as he raised a brow at Daryl, who showed him the bag with the three shirts. "Ain't much at all. Where's the girls?" Daryl looked around to find you and the others but you were nowhere to be found.

"They kidnapped her to the bathroom, probably lockers too." Jesus held out his pack of cigarettes in offer. "Smoke? I'll text them we're outside."

Daryl nodded and accepted the smokes, following his friend outside and smiling at you making new friends.

At the bathroom sink you were splashing water in your face to fully cool down and waited for the other two before heading back.

"They're outside already." The informafion came at the locker where you had left your jacket and bag, where you had told yourself earlier to try and have fun and not to worry so much.

With your jacket on and bag slung over your shoulder you left the venue to meet back up with the boys.

Daryl welcomed you by pulling you into his side. "Ya calmed down after all tha'?" His sweet smile leaked some smoke before blowing the remainder out over your head.

"Hmhm! I had more fun than I thought." You nuzzled his jacket and looked back at the friend around you. "It was really nice to meet you guys, too."

It was true, you did enjoy the event and were sure you'd be joining Daryl more often now.

With a last round of goodbyes you and Daryl left to catch the last train home, spending your late night moments almost falling asleep against him.

"C'mon. Yer takin' a shower with me 'fore we go sleep. Yer gross." Right, Daryl's after show routines, you almost forgot.

It was clear to him you were extremely tires so he made sure to treat you like a queen as he cleaned you up and dried you off, carrying you to bed and laying down with you, holding you close.

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[transmunsons]

Winter rolled around in Hawkins. The Harringtons hadn’t been home in months, which was fine with Steve. They’d probably freak if they saw the state of the house.

Multicolored lights were strung throughout the main rooms. The staircase railing had a garland spiraling down it. A large tree sat in the corner of the living room, shedding onto the carpet. But what they would have truly hated was the throng of people.

The entire Upside Down crew gathered there for Christmas Eve. Tomorrow they would celebrate with their families but tonight they breathed life into the halls of this stuffy house. Steve nudged his way past Robin and Nancy, bent close in conversation. He loved being in a crowd, surrounded by people he cared about.

Steve caught the arm of a certain metalhead and took him to another room. Snow gently fell outside the curtain-framed window and he could still hear the faint chorus of Last Christmas.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, his eyes reflecting the rainbow of lights. He looked concerned.

“Nothing, I just wanted to give you your gift.” Steve couldn’t wait any longer. It had arrived a month ago and had been eating away at him ever since.

“Oh, I don’t have yours with me,” Eddie replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve retrieved the long, gift-wrapped package he’d stashed behind a couch and held it out to Eddie, kneeling on one knee. “Your Banishedness.”

“Jesus, Steve, what is it?”

“Open it.”

Eddie took the present and set it down, tearing off the wrapping and ripping open the cardboard box.

“No fucking way.”

Eddie lifted a glittering blade from the carnage. The smooth metal gleamed as he reverently turned it about to look. Careful fingers traced the Elvish engravings. “The flame of the west.” Eddie whispered.

He placed the sword back down and tackled Steve to the floor. He was not light; the wind got knocked out of Steve’s chest.

“You’re welcome?” Steve said with a smile. Eddie always had odd reactions.

“You’re amazing,” He seemed to be memorizing every part of Steve’s face.

Steve laughed and pulled him down into a searing kiss.

[sebsbarnes]

jealousy || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: he knew you were fuming about his actions and he loved it. the two of you loved making the other jealous. it was a sick cycle.

warnings: mildly toxic dynamic, semi-suggestive (no descriptions)

word count: 900+

tangerine masterlist

your eyes followed the two figures amongst the crowd as if losing them was a sin. your fingers drummed against the now wet glass of your drink as the heat inside the club combatted with the ice. you were infuriated, to say the least. truth be told you were jealous, hungry for the attention not being provided to you, but to someone else. you wish you could blame the way your body was pulsating on the ear-ringing music but you knew it was because you were watching tangerine dance behind a girl, his eyes now piercing into your own.

tangerine and you were...messy.

there was really no solidified relationship between the two of you, however, it was evident that the late-night rendezvous indicated you two weren’t just friends. there were many nights spent staying up until the sun rose and many days spent tucked under sheets. he was still staring at you, whispering things into the woman's ear causing her to giggle and all you could do was suck your teeth, seething in anger.

"well don't ya look fuckin' jolly," lemon chuckled bumping into your shoulder, taking the seat next to you. you broke the staring contest to glare at lemon.

"i get we're on a fuckin' mission but jesus could it look like he wants to fuck her anymore?!" you spit.

"relax champ. let him work his magic and we will be outta here soon enough," lemon said patting your shoulder.

tangerine's back was now facing you and lemon and all you could see was the woman throwing her head back in laughter, her fingers tracing up and down tan's back. you could vomit right there or you could kill her, she was the enemy anyway what's the difference? you felt your throat constricting watching his arm move to grab her face, planting a kiss below her ear. with force you swiveled in your chair to face the bartender.

"three shots of tequila please," you almost begged.

"any of those for me?" lemon joked trying to suppress his amusement at the situation.

the first shot slid down your throat burning the entire way down to your stomach, "over my dead body."

the other two shots went down with ease and the fuzzy sensation was coursing through your body. it helped the jealousy subside even though you knew they were still dancing behind you. just as you were about to close your tab, a large hand situated itself where your neck and shoulder meet and a black credit card was thrown on the counter. you rolled your eyes so hard that it hurt.

"gettin' drunk on the job hm?" tangerine quipped bending dangerously close to the right side of your face. you could feel his breath on your ear.

"at least i wasn't trying to fuck on the dance floor," you retorted looking at tangerine through your eyelashes.

he let out a short fake laugh running his hand down his chest to smooth out his vest, "you know i only save that for you, love."

you ignored him and the warmth throughout your body and stood up wobbling a bit. from the other side lemon balanced you and nodded his head for the three of you to leave. you sauntered behind lemon, tangerine behind you which he liked quite a great deal. you could feel his eyes burning into every inch of your body and you purposely swayed your hips a bit more. he knew you were fuming about his actions and he loved it. the two of you loved making the other jealous. it was a sick cycle.

the three of you were now outside heading towards the car when you heard a pair of heels behind you and then two voices. turning around you saw the woman from earlier, the lady the three of you were here to steal information from, now talking to tangerine with a hand on his chest. their voices were quiet and tangerine's eyes quickly glanced over at you as he shot the woman a feigned smile. at this moment you didn't even care. you stalked over to the two pushing the woman to the side gripping tangerine's tie with such force it nearly ripped from the collar. the woman had stumbled to the side but she was now an afterthought as you shoved tangerine against the brick wall nearby.

you grabbed his face resting your palms on his cheeks and kissed him roughly. your fingernails scraped across his scalp, his hair knotting in between your fingers. his hands found themselves on your waist pulling you in closer. tangerine's tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you gladly let him in. he could taste the tequila and he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the kiss making his head fuzzy. but he loved it and he wanted more. he wanted every inch of your body on him. he wanted you underneath him, your nails marking his back as he kissed the special spot on your neck.

"we gotta get the fuck outta here love," tangerine grumbled against your lips swinging your body into his arms and trekking to the car.

as you retreated to the car in tangerine's arms you glanced over his shoulder. the woman had stayed where she was in shock and all you could do was wiggle your fingers at her in goodbye knowing she was staying here while you left with tangerine knowing soon enough he'd find home between your legs.

[thecapricunt1616]

Sunflower 🌻

Syd x Carmy one-shot

♡ Summary: A/U where after graduating from the CIA at the top of her class, Syd goes on a food tour in NYC & ends up hooking up with the most talented CDC, at the best restaurant in the world.

♡ W/C: 3,434

♡ Posted Date: 04/12/2024

♡ A/N: This is pure filth I tried adding some plot- I hope it turned out the way I saw it in my head. As always requests are open - for SydCarmy, CarmyxReader as usual! I hope you enjoy :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutsmutsmut nsfw 18+ - Oral (m receiving) , Barely edited bc we die like men.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Sydney Adamu had just graduated top of her class at the Culinary Institute of America. She’d been hunkering down with her dad, for a long four years, she was desperate to get out of there. She already had a plan all set up. 

She’d take the last bit of money her grandfather had given her for college, and make a catering business of her very own. It would be dedicated to her parents, (of course) Syd’s hopeless romanticism was thanks to their perfect, beautiful love story of course. She’d known since sophomore year of culinary school - Sheridan Road would be her baby. 

She’d settled on this idea - with any possible odd’s and ends money she’d made during her CIA training - she’d go out for as long as it would last her. She’d learn, study, and observe, then- create her catering business, with the confidence she’d gotten a taste of the very goal she had, a star. Well - three would be absolutely fucking insanity to her- but one? One she felt like if she had it? Her father would believe she was in a real line of work, instead of just happy she was perusing her own happiness. 

It was the perfect plan in her mind. She’d already set aside the amount of money, with extra safety net, for all of the licensures, and documentation she’d need- as well as her commercial kitchen rental she’d make the food out of. Then - with the extra 5k she had left over, she booked a full food tour of the most prestigious, luxurious restaurants in NYC. 

She’d planned the tour 6 months before she graduated, since the 3 restaurants wouldn’t even accept a reservation if it wasn’t made out any later then that, and when she walked the stage, 3 days later she was on the train into the city. 

She’d be staying at a decent hotel for 12 days. Each day, she’d be having one large meal including an app, two main courses, 2 cocktails, and 1 dessert from a Michelin starred restaurant. She would be staying 4 days for 1 star, 4 for 2 stars, and 4 for 3 stars. 

The schedule was as followed; 

Monday - Hirohisa *

Tuesday - Dirt Candy *

Wednesday - The Musket Room *

Thursday - The Red Paper Clip *

Friday - Atera **

Saturday - Jungsik **

Monday - Saga **

Tuesday - Daniel **

Wednesday - Per Se ***

Thursday - Le Bernadin ***

Friday - Masa ***

Saturday - 11 Madison Park ***

When she’d got off at Penn station- she was nearly vibrating with excitement - she quickly brushed passed people grabbing their obnoxious suitcases in the overhead compartments. 

“Sorry! ‘Scuse me! Fuck- shit sorry- exscuse me!!!- whoops! Sorry- scuse me- aah! Ugh- I Didn’t mean to- oop- oh- Jesus!! Excuse me!!” She rambled, frustration building in her chest. Getting off The L wasn’t this hard- why did Amtrak feel worse?!

She took a deep breath, her nose scrunching. 

Mm. So instead of cow shit - smog, I feel at home already. 

She’d thought to herself as she briskly walks with the crowd towards the exit she meant to take onto fifth. 

She slipped her wired headphones into her ears, texting her father 

‘made it!! Love you daddy!!’

Before opening her Spotify, hitting one of her comfort albums, Broken Clocks, as she walked briskly outside - the crisp city air hitting her like a ton of bricks. 

She leaned against the brick of the McDonald’s next door, avoiding the streams of people going down and up the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. She’d not been to New York before, she’d grown up in Chicago- been to the city more times then she can count, but the suburbs were her home. Being in the city- and let alone- a city like Manhattan versus Chicago- she was looking around, trying to gather her wits - and quickly.  She clicked the maps application on her iPhone 7, tugging her umbrella out of the water bottle pocket of her backpack and tucking it under her arm as she typed the address to her hotel and clicking for the walking directions.

It honestly kind of pissed her off that each day’s food was better than the last. She’d wanted to not give a shit about stars and just focus on giving people an experience to remember - but it was cut & dry that now that she’d tasted this kind of food - she was going to do whatever she could to become as talented as the chefs that made it. 

But - she hadn’t even tried the best yet. 

The best, the best, THE best. 

She honestly couldn’t believe she was going to be trying the food from Eleven Madison Park - but she couldn’t help but be so nervous. Every other Michelin starred restaurant she’d been to - the dress code was Formal attire. But this one? THE best restaurant in the fucking world? Oh- they just say on their website ‘many of our guests dress up for the occasion, but we do not have a dress code’  

Her entire trip, She’d been cycling through 2 very different floor length gowns. One of which she wore to her graduation, and the other she’d found at Windsor on sale but it did the job. She didn’t wear luxury attire often, okay? She was too busy being Culinary school for Christ sakes! And tonight she couldn’t for the life of her choose which one she’d wear. 

This being because she was attending a main dining room tasting, which was ten courses. Easy, luxury dining courses were stupidly small. But- she was also trying their bar tasting menu which was an extra four courses. Sitting at a bar in that stupid fluffy dress for two hours would not be comfortable. But- again- best. restaurant. in. the. WORLD!!! 

She knew for a fact that she would be mad at herself if she got there and everyone around was dressed to the nines, but - for comfortability sake she went with the simple silken red gown. 

The front of house service was literally perfect. She was glad she’d brought a new notebook, because she’d never have had enough space to take all the notes she was taking tonight in the one she’d been using the majority of the trip. Their staff was very casually mannered, and they made it very easy to order. Everything was very calm and comfortable, the furniture felt very luxurious in the sense of comfortability. 

After she just had the best meal of her entire life, she knew she had to speak with the person who made it. Her mind was blown for lack of a better word. The food was fucking incredible. She had a rule to keep herself able to taste as much as possible: she was only allowed one bite of each dish, but here- she couldn’t just limit herself to one. Each dish she was taking 2 even 3 bites- but when she got to the sunflower dish? It was brilliant. She finished every bite, she couldn’t not. It would be sinful to waste it. And the only thing on her mind was that she had to talk to the chef who’d made it.

Her waiter comes back to her table, giving her back her card and receipt. 

“Thank you for dining with us this evening, have a wonderful night” he told her 

“Thank you- Um- may I speak with the chef who made the sunflower plate please? I’d like to pay my compliments in person if possible.” She asked hopefully. 

“Of course, that would be Chef Carmen- give me just a moment I’ll go get him for you” he nodded and headed back to the kitchen. She looked over her notes, remembering the questions she’d wanted to ask about the dish. 

Carmen, she wondered if he’d been named after the saint. His talent was surely straight from the hands of the Mother of Christ. 

Shes interrupted from writing in her notebook by a husky, silvery voice 

“Excuse me- I was told you’d like to speak to me, I’m Chef Carmen, I made your sunflower dish this evening.” 

“Hey- I’m Sydney - that dish was- ” she stood up to face him- and when she realized who was in front of her, her heart began to race. Of course, she’d thought, of course - only a JBA contestant could come up with a dish so ingenious.

 “Oh- um…Hi.. Hello- you’re like -” she blinked a few times, in utter shock. “You’re Carmen Berzatto“ She swallowed thickly. 

Sydney was obsessed with this industry- she stalked the JBA website every year to see who would be nominated, dreaming that some day she’d be on that list. Being even nominated would allow her to die happily feeling as if she’d won a fucking Nobel Prize. That was how much she respected those damn awards. 

“I am” he said and cleared his throat nervously. 

“Well- firstly congratulations on your nomination- you like- if it was up to me you’d win because that sunflower dish was-” they’re interrupted by one of the food runners coming over 

“Chef Carmen- Chef Daemon requests you in back of house now.” she said urgently, the girl looked like she was on the brink of tears as she continued taking the tray of food over to the table it was meant for. 

“So sorry, i’d love to hear what you have to say but uh…” he trailed off. 

“Yeah- yeah- sorry, sorry I wont keep you-” she said and he shook his head a bit 

“No- no- um… I mean -” he wouldnt usually be so bold, but his ass was going to literally be kicked if he didnt get back there in the next 5 seconds. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke at 11:15. If you wanted to keep talkin’ ill be there” he said before heading back to the kitchen.

Sydney was nearly shaking - there were so so many things she wanted to ask him. She also realized he was much - infinitely hotter in person - how that was even possible? She remained unsure. She had reapplied her lipgloss and her perfume, nervously pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. 

She hears the back door open and she looked over, out emerging the greek god incarnate she somehow got so lucky as to run in to tonight. “Hey!” she said with her famous warm smile. 

He didnt return it, actually- he looked pissed. She swallowed thickly, rubbing her lips together nervously “Hey - sorry again I uh- fuckin’ boss” he muttered, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket. 

“No- don’t apologize please, I totally get it. I mean, you're the CDC at literally the best restaurant in the world. I wouldn’t have bugged you if I knew, I mean- my table, like- I’m not a critic..I guess I should have clarified cause of the notebook thing but they usually are more…low key? I thought? Do they usually just come and whip out a notebook? That would make it easier I think… But nonetheless I’m so so grateful to have been able to eat a meal that-“ she rambled on anxiously but he stops her.

“You talk when y’nervous” he said with a small smirk, lighting the cigarette between his lips and inhaling, leaning against the brick.

“Uh-” she stuttered, her face feeling hot suddenly. “Sorry- I’ve uh… i’ve been told” she chuckled a bit, taking a few steps towards him and leaning on the brick only 2 feet or so between them.

“It’s charming, y’smoke?” he offered her the pack with a red top, she looked down at it.

“I don’t- not- not yet anyways” she joked, crossing a slim arm over her waist. He couldn't help but realize how the action made her breasts more prominent. 

“You’re a chef?” he asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yes! Yes- well.. Just graduated, not working anywhere yet- I’m going home soon to try and start my own catering thing…” she explained and he nodded.

“Where’d y’graduate from?” he asked, exhaling the smoke away from her direction.

“CIA - 2 weeks ago, Valedictorian actually, y’not the only chef around here with street cred” she joked and he chuckled.

“Really? Word. Thats sick, good job. Y’said y’re headed home? Where’s that?” he asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Chicago! Can’t wait to get back, Hudson life is… not for me- I forgot how convenient public transportation was” she said. 

He raised his brows in surprise, “Chicago huh? Thats my old home base.” he said 

“I know! You’re actually… really famous did you know that? Like- they talk all about you during lectures, you’re the new golden child of the culinary world” she teased and he rolled his eyes playfully.

They’d been inching closer and closer without realizing throughout the whole conversation, she was now so close that she could see the barely there scar on his cheek, her focus locked on it. His gaze was locked on her plump lips and he was imagining how they’d feel around his cock.

“I do unfortunately - you’ll learn soon enough that praise means being a target in this industry.” He said 

She bit her lip, meeting his striking blue eyes once again. “I really meant to tell you earlier was that sunflower dish was the best meal i’ve ever had. And i’m not just…sucking your dick because you’re you - I knew that before I knew you made it” she laughed a bit.

He followed suit, “Well if you want to- i’m not gonna say no.” he said and her eyes widened a bit, feeling her core pooling with heat at the idea. Of course he was half joking. It was so sudden and out there he would have never expected her to indulge him. 

“I mean- here? What if your boss comes out?” she asked, a bit quieter as if she was trying to assure they’d not be caught.

He nodded towards the row of 12-wheeler trucks parked 50 or so feet away. “Haven’t moved in 6 weeks” he shrugged casually  “Lead the way Chef”  she motioned with her hand, a frisky smirk on her lips.

“Holy fuuuck” Carmy groaned, pushing his cock deeper into her tight hot mouth. “Y’like takin cock like this mmm? Y’like bein’ my little fuckin slut?” he muttered, thumbing away the warm tear that was gathering in the corner of her right eye. “So fuckin’ good f’me-” he growled, moaning at the wet gurgling noises emitting from her.

She swallowed around him, looking up at him with tear-filled dark lustful brown eyes, widening her jaw further and tonguing over the pulsing vein on the underside of his length, gently squeezing his thighs to urge him further. 

“Y’want me t’fuck y’throat? Mmm? Dirty fuckin girl” he gathered her braids into his fist, wrapping them around his palm and roughly tugging her off. 

She whined hotly, the sensation of his rough hand sending waves of pleasure through her being. “Please” she said wantingly, tonguing over his slit before wrapping her lips around the tip of his head in a sensual kiss.

He took his thumb, pulling her jaw open wide and thrusting into her mouth with a satisfied grunt. “Y’know-shhhit y’know what? I think this is the only way t’shut y’ass up? Mmm?” he inhales sharply as she pushed his foreskin back and spit on his exposed sensitive tip.

“Jesus fuckin-” he sharply inhaled through his teeth as she gently grazed her teeth over the sensitive head, his abs clenching in pleasure and hips quivering from the overstimulation “fuckin-h-aaaa-ahhh-mm-shhhhit-jesus fuckin christ” he whimpered, his head falling back against the metal with a sharp bang as she took the flesh into her mouth, flicking her tongue sharply over the weeping tip before smoothly sucking over the buzzing stimulation. He knew if she kept up the act he’d be filling her mouth with his seed within seconds.

“S-sooo fuckin filthy - y’want my cum in y’throat? Mmm? Little fuckin whore- h-holy-oh god- i-” he nearly suffocated her as he buried his cock further down her throat. He reached down, his fingers rubbing along his thick length buried in her warm tight throat. 

“F-fuuuuuck- ah- oh shhh- mmm- thats it- thaaaaaat’s it- good fuckin girl” he grumbled, roughly and sloppily guiding her head in such a way that the noises being made if it weren’t her he would think theyre overdramatic and disgusting. He also didn’t know where the hell all of this talking was coming from. 

Normally in the bedroom, he was quiet. Very quiet. The only way the women he was with knew he’d enjoyed himself was if he even came at all. Sex usually wasn’t about his own pleasure since in the presence of another he found it so hard to get off - it was more about giving him imagery that would help him later in regards to finishing. 

“You are so fuckin good at that huh? You take my cock so well such a good fuckin girl” his jaw goes slack as she put her hands on his hips to steady him and slowly sinks her mouth all the way down to the hilt, her eyes shut in focus. 

She gently rubbed her thumbs over his hips, swallowing around his length in a way that made whimpers fall past his lips he didn’t know he could make himself. “Holy shit y’fuckin- oh- ohhh fuck” he grunts as she takes one of her hands and begins massaging his balls and looking directly into his eyes, pulling off his length to breathe and gently pushing the foreskin back, kissing over the sensitive flesh with her plump lips. 

“You can fuck my face- but deepthroating after a meal like that is pretty hard, id love if I can keep it down” she said, even with spit running down her chin, teary eyes, and swollen lips - she still looked adorable to him. 

“Sorry- sorry” he muttered, loosening his grip on her hair “keep doin’ that fuck yesss” he breathed out as she swirled her tongue around his head. He thrust in and out of her mouth, gradually moving faster but being careful as to not slam into the back of her throat. 

She stroked the bottom half of his length with her other hand, eyes closing and doing her best to swallow around him all the excess saliva that was dripping down her throat. She hollowed out her cheeks, looking up at him as she slowly and carefully sunk down once again, keeping her eyes locked on his. 

“Mmm-shhhit-I’m fuckin-“ he groaned, his knees nearly going weak and head falling back with a thud. Blood roared in his ears, his hands shook slightly from the tension rolling off him in waves. 

She nearly choked at the amount rolling down her throat. She pulled off slightly, swallowing - more like gulping, assuring to hollow her cheeks and swirl her tongue as she pulled off with a pop as to not waste any of the sweet salty mess. 

“You- you- you are fuckin crazy” he breathed, looking down at her. 

She wiped off her mouth, chin, and neck with a tissue she’d kept in her purse before saying “I’d say you’re crazy, “ she got off her knees, picking up the chefs coat he had thrown down for her to kneel on, to which she insided it out before she did so it wouldn’t show any dirt. “If I had that coat? It would never touch the floor” she shook it off carefully. 

He quickly fixed his pants “he’s a friend it doesn’t matter I can always get a new one” he countered, putting the coat back on and buttoning it. 

Her eyes widened “friends?! How the hell did you run into him?!” She asked. 

“You- y’re into fashion ‘n shit?” He asked and she nodded enthusiastically 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Thom Browne is insane all his shit Is absolute fire. I wish I could afford one of his jackets like- it’s totally a dream wishlist kinda thing” she took some gum out of her purse. 

“When do you uh…go back?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow. Headed to Chicago on Wednesday” she said and he nods. 

“Oh- yeah okay..It was uh…it was nice t’meet you” he said awkwardly “I should probably um..” he trailed off, clearing his throat nervously.

“Totally- yeah great to um…great to meet you too chef.” She nodded 

“Could I um…” he rubs the back of his neck anxiously “could I maybe get y’r…” he trails off, cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“My number?” She asked, grabbing her phone out of her purse. 

He nodded, cheeks bright red with embarrassment “yeah sorry-“ he mumbled

“Yeah- if I can get yours” she teased, clicking open the blank contact screen

[orions-choker]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Serial Killers, Murder, Obsessions, Yandere tendencies, more to be added.

Chapter One

Returning home after a whirlwind year at college had been bittersweet. There was a certain warmth and comfort that Y/N hadn’t realized she missed as soon as she saw her parents waiting car that afternoon. There was a building excitement to see her own bed once more and spend time with her childhood dog once more. On the opposite end of the spectrum came with the innate sense of losing her freedom.

It was made clear to her on that ride home that no matter how much she claimed to be an adult at nineteen years of age, staying out late each weekend, drinking and dates, wouldn’t be tolerated. Under her parents roof she was a child once more. The rules came with a valid reasoning though. While Y/N had been away two states over her hometown had been rocked to the core by something sinister.

“Sorry, how many women has it been?” Y/N asked incredulously, leaning forward from where she sat in the backseat of her dads car. Her eyes locked onto her mothers face, the worried wrinkles that settled into her face seemed to age her years despite the short time it had been since she last saw her.

leaning forward her mother turned the radio down. A heavy sigh had her shoulders slumping “Six bodies found, three other women missing.” She explained, her bottom lip was chapped, skin peeling from where she seemed to incessantly pick at it. “We discussed sending you money to stay near your school this summer instead.”

With an aggravated groan her father pressed a little harder on the gas, sending the car lurching forward as it switched gears. “Don’t scare the girl Jesus, it's not that bad.” Her father attempted to assure her of her safety poorly. “You’ll be fine, our neighborhood has always been safe.”

“I’m not so sure with those, what do you call them? Metalheads? That the Hammett boy brings around.” Her mothers mention of her neighbor surprised Y/N. Kirk had been Y/N’s neighbor since she was about ten years old, a few years older than herself.

They had barely interacted in her youth, in part because of the small age difference, and also because of how shy she had been, harboring a small crush on him until she reached her teenage years. He had been unassuming though, quiet and reserved. She couldn’t even recall hearing his voice the entire time they had lived beside each other.

To hear about the crowd he had associated himself with now surprised her. “Metalheads, really mom?” Y/N chuckled, leaning back into her seat once more. Outside the windows she began to see the familiar scenery of home. “Didn’t realize you were so judge-y.”

Her piercing eyes locked onto Y/N’s as she spun in her seat. “You would be too if you saw the pictures they’re posting in the papers of these young women butchered.” her tone was cold and scolding. There was an underlying fear beneath the words.

“I’m not here to argue with your mom, but good job succumbing to the satanic panic bullshit.” She rolled her eyes, choking back a laugh as her mom gasped at her language. “Plus Kirk couldn’t hurt a fly. I doubt he hangs out with monsters and serial killers.”

The car fell silent after that, a thick tension falling over the three of them. The turn off the highway down the suburban streets brought her closer and closer to home. Familiar yards and trees prefaced her arrival. Pulling into the asphalt driveway of her childhood home had her bouncing in her seat.

Before the engine shut off Y/N was barreling out of the car, ignoring the warnings to slow down. Looming over her was the cozy slice of suburbia she had missed amongst the busy city life. With a loud whoop and holler she pushed open the front door. “Mavey Baby!” She called out excitedly, hearing the frantic scratching of nails along the hardwood floor.

Coming around the corner was a large golden Labrador mix. The dog was a mess of floppy ears and flapping jowls as it tackled Y/N to the floor with an excited bark. In a fit of giggles she allowed the gentle mauling to take place. Her face nearly soaked by the rough tongue as the two excitedly greeted each other.

“I know girl! I know I missed you too!” She sighed happily and scratched the fur behind her ears. Y/N pulled herself up from the floor in time for her father to enter with her heavy bags. “Thanks daddy!” She smiled sweetly at the clearly agitated man.

He ignored her with a grunt, making his way up the stairs slowly. She followed him with a bounce in each of her steps. As much as she had tried to make her dorm room feel like home, nothing would compare to her room. Her sanctuary.

It was just how she left it, despite her mothers warnings she would turn it into a home gym. Her dusty pink walls covered in art she had done, posters of bands and movies that shaped her teenage years. Her duvet covered in a light floral pattern, pillows piled high amongst her stuffed animals.

Y/N pushed past her father as he dropped the bags to the floor, running to the desk on the far side of the room. She fiddled with the radio sitting there, there was a soft crackle before the room filled with music. By the time she turned around the room had been left empty, allowing her to rummage through her bags and begin organizing.

The carpet was soft beneath her as she sat on the floor. Mindlessly she pulled her clothes and makeup from the bags, placing them in neat piles around her. The music from her radio fizzled out, the voices of the town's radio hosts replacing the noise. Their usually pleasant tone was replaced with something somber.

“More news this morning, another body found, confirmed to be the remains of-” Y/N’s ears perked up, her hands stilling as she paused her task. She recognized the name, an older girl she had seen around town. It was heartbreaking news. “In a similar fashion to the previous open cases she was found gutted and left in the riverways. This brings the growing number of cases to seven. Our condolences to the family.” It seemed cruel the way it transitioned into the fun beat of the latest Prince song.

“Condolences my ass,” Y/N muttered under her breath, standing up to change the channel. As she approached the desk she peered out the large open window, it overlooked the side of her house and the shared backyard with the neighbors.

Sitting in the backyard on the Hammett’s side of the property was a small group of people, Kirk's friends she could surmise. A lot of wild teased hair, black denim and beer cans scattered about. It seemed tame compared to her mother’s complaints. Curiously enough she couldn’t spot her neighbor, eyes scanning amongst the people for the scrawny nerdy boy.

A pair of big brown eyes seemed to find hers as she looked. A pair of eyes she was familiar enough with when they were behind large wire framed glasses. Her mouth popped open in a small gasp. His curly black hair had grown out, falling past his shoulders, his lanky limbs looked like they finally fit his body now. She almost didn’t believe it was him stretched out across the plastic chair, in tight black jeans and a leather jacket slung around his shoulders. Not until he smiled at her, giving her a small wave.

The acknowledgment that she had been staring had Y/N dropping to the floor out of view of the window. Her face pressed against the carpet and her heart seemed to beat erratically as if it was trying to escape her ribcage. Thoughts swirling through her mind finally landing on the conclusion it was unfair he had become so pretty in the year that she had been gone.

Y/N didn’t dare move from her position until her mother appeared in the door frame. Her eyebrow quirked, hands placed on her hips. “What are you doing Y/N?” Her voice was flat and unimpressed.

Slowly she pushed herself off the ground, avoiding looking out the window once more. Smiling tightly at her mom she responded. “Clearly I missed my room so much I had to get reacquainted with the floors.” She gestured down to the imprint she had left on the carpet. “What are you doing mom?” Y/N eyed where her mom stood, warning her not to cross the invisible boundary into her room.

“Telling you, your dad is Barbequing tonight and you need to come help me outside.” She turned on her heel, shooting Y/N an equally testing look as she barked the order.

“Outside? Like in the back?” Y/N felt panic rise in her throat like bile. She could not go out there.

Her mother scoffed annoyed. “Yes outside Y/N, god forbid you spend time with your family after not seeing us all year.” The way her voice clipped told Y/N there was no escaping this cruel and unjust fate. She rolled her head back and groaned loudly. Still obediently she followed her mother down the stairs. “Your grandparents and cousins are coming over to welcome you back.”

The house was empty downstairs, her dad already outside starting up the grill. In the kitchen were stacks of plastic cutlery and paper plates, pitchers ready for lemonade and a large salad bowl. “God mom it’s not that big of a deal.” Y/N grumbled, gathering the dishes in her arms and heading towards the sliding glass door that led to their back deck.

If she simply never turned towards the neighbors side of the yard she could ignore the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. The warm afternoon wind whipped up her sundress lightly as she stepped onto the deck where her father was. Very faintly she could hear the hum of the music across the way, easily tuned out if they were to put something on of their own. Still her Mothers face twitched in annoyance.

“Here dad, brought you your tongs.” Y/N said, handing the utensil to her dad. Her neck felt stiff as she purposefully avoided the gaze she could feel burning a hole in the back of her head. “Do you guys need me out here until everyone shows up?” She whined lightly, looking at her mom with pleading eyes.

Her mom hissed at her. “Y/N knock it off, don’t be a brat.”

Grabbing the tongs from her hand, her dad gave her a questioning look. He opened his mouth to speak before Y/N quickly shook her head. She strode across the deck, throwing herself into the seat of the porch swing causing it to rock gently. Her parents gave each other an exasperated look.

In her peripheral vision she could barely make out the shapes of the people in the yard beside theirs, still it felt as though she could feel Kirk’s heavy gaze upon her. Idly her fingers picked at the stitching along the hem of her dress, tracing the shapes of the small floral pattern.

Y/N couldn’t take it, her skin felt as if it was on fire. Her eyes snapped up, drawn to Kirk’s like she was being pulled by an otherworldly force. His eyebrow raised, a small smirk settling on his face. He raised a beer in his hand, gesturing his head in invitation.

With wide eyes Y/N looked between her parents who had busied themselves preparing for guests. Looking back to the boy across the way he shrugged at her with a smile. Her body rose from its seat without a second thought, Y/N frowned, feeling betrayed by her own feet as she took the steps down into the grassy backyard. “Y/N? What are you doing sweetheart?” Her dad’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of her mom as well.

With a sputter Y/N was able to choke out the words, gesturing lamely to the small gathering of people where Kirk sat. “Just going to say hi to the neighbors?” Her voice and confidence wavered. She tore off, speed walking away from her mothers complaints. The grass tickled her bare ankles as she approached Kirk's yard, clearly less maintained than her own family's picture perfect lawn. She could see Kirk’s smile grow wider as she approached. Since when was he so expressive and…confident?

“Hey Y/N, long time no see.” Kirk’s voice nearly betrayed his outward appearance. It matched perfectly to her previous image of him. Soft and boyish, a little higher pitched. It was cute and did little to ease her nerves. He stood from his seat, reaching into the cooler beside him and offering her drink.

She eyed the can nervously, remembering her parents warnings of being alcohol free this summer. She shook her head with a polite smile. “Ahh, sorry no thanks I have family coming over in a bit.” She excused herself. “Good to see you too.” inwardly she cursed herself for the way her voice seemed to raise in pitch, sounding like a frightened mouse.

Feeling incredibly out of place amongst the crowd that Kirk had gathered she shuffled her weight awkwardly from one foot to another. Kirk’s smile didn’t fade as he dropped the drink back into the cooler. “All good, hopefully I didn’t steal you away from anything too important?” He questioned, pulling up a chair for her across from his own.

The music was louder now, a heavy pleasant thrum to her ears. She wasn’t all too familiar with metal but it was enjoyable. She sat down across from him, smoothing her dress down. “No, not really, it wasn't my idea.” She sighed. “I haven’t been gone that long. I don't see the big deal.” She grumbled with a small pout.

Kirk’s small chuckle deepend the blush on her skin. “How has college been?” He asked, leaning forward on his knees as he listened to her intently. The attention sent a pleasant tingling across her skin.

“It's been great!” Y/N grinned at him. “Honestly just getting out of the house and this town has been so freeing. Of course I miss it sometimes but I don’t think I’ll be coming back here when I graduate if you know what I mean.” She didn’t miss the small frown on his face as she spoke. “How has uh…everything been here?” She asked awkwardly.

Leaning back in his chair Kirk took a sip from his drink. “If you're asking what I'm doing, music, I play guitar.” He explained casually. “It isn’t much right now but it helps mom pay the bills.” he gestured towards the house. There was an unanswered tension in the air.

Y/N picked at the exposed skin of her knees as she spoke. “So I heard everything goin’ on in the news lately” She spoke softly. Kirk's shoulders stiffened lightly, turning to her with concern in his eyes. “I've heard about a lot of that lately in the bigger cities but I never thought about it here.” It was true across the news she had heard of the evil crimes committed across the country, but it seemed like a problem so far away, not one that she would face here.

“Yeah…” Kirk finally huffed out, swirling his drink in his hand. “It’s pretty fucked.” There was a hesitation in his words. “I didn’t know any of them personally but mutual friends you know.” The frown he had made Y/N regret bringing it up.

Opening her mouth to quickly change the subject she heard the rowdy yelling of her cousins fill the air. She turned around to look to her yard, seeing her distant family arriving. “Ahh shit, that's my cue to go.” She stood up quickly. “Talk to you later?” She asked hopefully.

The soft smile he gave her had her heat fluttering once more. “Yeah for sure, don’t be a stranger.” He waved at her once more as she turned towards her house. Something had shifted in her. A boy she hadn't paid attention to since they were children suddenly occupied her mind once more.

For the entirety of her dinner she was spaced out, eyes glazed over as she smiled dumbly down at the table. Her leg bouncing excitedly causing her mother to place a sturdy hand on her knee, shooting her an agitated glare. Still she couldn’t be bothered to care, not when a certain curly haired boy was stealing glances at her all night.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

You scared me

Nicholas Jackson X Fem (wrestler) reader

Summary: Y/N scares Nick during her match.

Warnings: Mentions of blood steel cage death match type shit :)

Masterlist

I watched the cage lower from above, the steel shining in the arena. Tonight we would see the TBS championship being defended in a steel cage match. Normally I woudn't think much of a match like this, I was familuar with the cage and I trusted Y/n. However with Adam Copeland breaking his leg in that same cage not even a month ago had me on edge.

"Stop worring Nicky, I'll be fine" Y/n told me reassuringly as she kissed my cheek. "You know you're not supposed to be calling me that, you must call me by my god given name" "Well Nicholas, you know these kinds of matches arn't new for me. Willow and I will go out there and protect each other, you know that" "Just promise me you'll be careful, no stupid moves off the cage" "I promise I will be carefull but I don't know about the other part" Y/n told me playfully, I however did not find her joke funny. "You're out in 30" called one of the members on the production team. I gave Y/n a quick kiss before letting her get into posistion for what would be yet another history making moment in AEW.

"Jesus Christ!" Matthew called out "Did you see that!" Everyone was gathered around to watch the match from a monitor backstage, everyone wanted to see the bloody brawl that was about to take place. I couldn't watch, the sound of the steel chair cracking Y/n's skull made me sick. The blood poured out of her head leaving a puddle in the ring. "Nicholas! Are you even watching?" Matthew asked me "This is kinda hard for me to watch" I told him. "Think about all the stupid things you do that Y/n has to deal with, you should be watching!" He had a point.

I watched as Willow pulled out a large black bag that was wedged between the cage and the ring. My first thought was thumb tacks but I felt my jaw drop when Willow dumped a variety of mouse traps in the ring. "Jesus" I mumbled under my breath. I watched Willow Suplex Y/n into the traps. Some stuck to her skin while others were left with chunks of skin.

The crowd was going nuts, the women were left covered in blood, welts and bruised scattred their skin. They were proving once again that the women can do death matches. Everytime I thought it was over I was shocked by the last minute kick out. My worries had disappeared, I was on the edge of my seat wanting to see what would happen next. Just then I saw Y/n start to make her way up the steel cage and that nervous feeling returned. The arena went scilent as Y/n stood atop of the cage. They watched as Y/n took a few moments to compose herself, talking in the view and how quet everyone had become. They were showing their respect, allowing total concentration for what was about to occur. I watched Y/n execute a perfect corckscrew shooting star press (Pac's black arrow) but to my supprise Willow moved out of the way at the last second. Y/n went crashing hard into the table she had set up. Everyone was in shock with what we just witnessed. Y/n lifeless body lied in the middle of the ring as Willow went for the pin. 1...2....3...

Y/n didn't move a inch as Willow celebrated with her new title in the ring. "She's dead" called out another wrestler. "She's not dead, chill out" Matthew spat but I coudn't help think that maybe she was injured. She hadn't move at all. Medical staff tended to her as I ran towards the entrance way to make sure she was okay. They carried her backstage and I was to greet her. "What the fuck where you thinking" I asked Y/n as I held her tightly in my arms. "Owww" she called out "Sorry, Sorry but like what the fuck Y/n!" "I'm fine, don't worry about me" "You are not fine, you're going to need stitches and you just fell 15 feet to your death. You scared me Y/n!" I told her "I'm sorry I scared you" she told me "Please tell me you won't do something stupid like that again" "No promises"

[corroded-hellfire]

Hello! I'm absolutely in love with your work and I'm always just so friggin' happy whenever a new one gets published.

If it's alright with you, I'd like to request an Eddie x Reader inspired by the song "Centerfold" by The J. Geils Band. The song's been stuck in my mind for days now and I just can't help hearing the song from Eddie's point of view.

Hope you're doing great!

I love this song so this was so fun to write! Thank you for your kind words and for requesting!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mention of unprotected sex, language, I think that’s it?

Words: 6.9k

Eddie had been on the road for months now. The roar of the crowd every night filled his veins with adrenaline and his heart with contentment. But once the buzz faded and the lights went off, Eddie would find himself in his bunk on the tour bus, trying to catch some much-needed sleep as the driver took them to their next tour stop. The gentle rock of the large bus back and forth on the road usually lulled Eddie to sleep eventually, but tonight, he seemed to feel every little bump and pothole on the interstate. 

“Holy shit.”

Gareth is always making a big deal out of the stupidest shit, so Eddie didn’t bother pulling open the small curtain to his bunk and looking up at the bed above him. He was honestly surprised that Gareth wasn’t asleep yet, because he was well known to be the one who passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

“Dude.”

Still, Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie? You awake?”

The lead guitarist rolls his eyes and pushes the short curtain open.

“What?”

Gareth peeks his head over the edge of the bunk, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Uncomfortable is an odd look on Gareth, as he’s usually unfazed by anything and everything. That alone has Eddie intrigued.

“Dude, what?” Eddie asks again.

“Shit, I don’t know if I should tell you,” Gareth says.

“You shouted for me multiple times while I’m trying to sleep. You better damn well tell me.”

His friend’s head disappears back into the bunk and Eddie lets out a longsuffering sigh. There’s rustling coming from above him and instead of Gareth popping back into view like he expects, something falls down and smacks Eddie square in the face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, glaring up at the higher bunk. There’s no response though, which has Eddie huffing again in anger before he looks down at what hit him. It’s a copy of XXXTRA, the popular adult magazine, that Eddie is no stranger to. Gareth’s never shared porn with him before, and if he was being honest, Eddie found it a little weird. Especially since he’d be up there in his bunk with it. As if his friend can read his mind, Gareth calls down.

“I just opened it, Jesus Christ. Turn to the centerfold.”

With a sigh, Eddie swipes the magazine from the floor and lays back in his bed. Making himself comfortable, he flips through the pages until he comes to the very middle of the magazine. When he does, Eddie’s heart seizes in his chest, and he feels his blood run cold. The black negligee is short and skimpy, the lace neckline – if it could be called that – dipped low between the breasts, keeping a small portion of the swell of her chest covered. Or it would be if the whole negligee wasn’t completely sheer, showing off her impressive natural breasts. It’s a sexy piece of lingerie on its own, but the woman wearing it is far sexier. She was also Eddie’s high school sweetheart. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie echoes Gareth’s words from earlier. 

“Right?” Gareth says from above him, and Eddie raises his leg to kick the bottom of his bandmate’s bunk. 

“Not another word,” Eddie snaps. His eyes scan over your body on the glossy print again, an odd mixture of confused and aroused. The fact that Gareth saw this – saw you like this – has Eddie gripping the edges of the magazine tighter in his hands. But then it occurs to him: everyone who bought this magazine would see you like this. See you in the provocative position you’re sitting in, leaning in towards the camera, black lace laying against your soft skin. At least Eddie knew from experience that your skin was soft. Not everyone who holds the magazine could say that. 

He drops the magazine down on his chest and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s been almost a decade since Eddie’s seen you, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you from time to time. Even when he’s laying alone in a hotel room, fist wrapped around his cock, remembering all the times and places you two fooled around back in high school. The breakup was mutual and heartbreaking, but unavoidable as you went off to college and Corroded Coffin set off to make their dreams come true. None of it changed the fact that there was a special place held in Eddie’s heart just for you.

Mrs. O’Donnell drones on and on, sounding like the teachers from Charlie Brown the more she speaks. Eddie does his best to listen – he really does, but it’s so hard when the words are all blending together into one cacophonous sound. It’s the crone’s own fault, really, when his mind drifts far from the subject of World War II and onto the dress you’re wearing today. A cute green floral sundress, long enough to keep Eddie from going all alpha male jealous, but still short enough to keep his eyes glued to the backs of your thighs as you walked. The cotton was so soft as he rubbed his hands over your waist and hips this morning, pulling your body against his just because he never wanted to let you go. All of your curves were accentuated perfectly, and the color brought out your eyes so much that Eddie was pretty sure this was his favorite outfit of yours ever. Well, favorite outfit that you could wear in public.

A tap against his knee catches Eddie’s attention and he notices your hand underneath his desk, a slip of paper between your fingers. He slips the note from your grip, squeezing your hand before he reluctantly lets go of it. Your stifled giggle brings a smile to his face as he unfolds your note.

What’re you thinking about? Your face is especially cute 

Eddie does a double take to make sure O’Donnell isn’t looking his way before grabbing his pencil and scribbling down a reply. He drops the note on your desk, poking you in the side to make you squirm before containing himself back in his own seat.

Funny you should ask! I was thinking about you and that sexy little dress. So if you see my fly straining over my crotch, you know why

Eddie watches your face go scarlet as you read the letter, quickly crumbling the paper up and shoving it in your backpack so no one else can see what it says. Mrs. O’Donnell was notorious for making people read notes they’ve passed out loud and you’d be damned if you were going to have to speak Eddie’s words out loud to the whole class. 

Lucky for you, the bell rings so there’s no time for your teacher to catch your note passing. Eddie takes your hand in his as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. 

“Your house?” Eddie asks as the two of you walk down the hallway towards the school exit. 

“Yeah. Unless you’re too eager and need to take me in the back of your van?” You shoot a smirk at your boyfriend, and he bites his lip to suppress a moan.

“Fuck, don’t tempt me.” He slings an arm over your shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

The whole ride to your place, Eddie keeps his hand on your thigh, inching it higher every few minutes, and telling you all the things he wants to do to you once you get there. He does it partially because it turns him on, but mostly because he loves seeing you get all flushed and shy. The two of you may have been together for over three years now, but he could still turn you into a blushing, stuttering mess. 

As you try to unlock your front door, Eddie’s hands are moving up and down your body and he’s pressing kisses to the back of your neck. 

“Eddie!” You let out a squeal as he digs his fingers into the softness of your tummy. 

“Can’t help it,” Eddie mumbles into your hair. “You’re just so cute, angel.”

No sooner than you’ve stepped in the house does Eddie have you pinned up against the closed door. His lips are on yours and his hands are pushing your dress up your hips. The moan that leaves your lips is involuntary as your arms loop around his neck. 

Eddie’s large hand cups the back of your thigh and hoists your leg around his hip. His lips break from yours and he trails his mouth down to your jaw, teeth scraping against your skin. 

“M-My room,” you say.

“Too far,” Eddie speaks against your skin. “Need you here.”

“Against the front door?” you ask with a breathy laugh.

“Guess we could make the few steps to the couch.” 

At Eddie’s pat on your ass, you jump up and wrap your other leg around his hips. Hands braced on your ass and teeth nipping at your neck, Eddie takes you over to the couch on the other side of the room. You land on your back, legs tightening around him, so he falls down on top of you. 

You’re pushing Eddie’s leather jacket off his shoulders as he grinds his hips into yours, the friction over your thin cotton panties making your eyes roll back in your head. Eddie’s quick to strip himself of his shirt and his fingers tangle in the material of your dress as he struggles to get it over your head.

“Eddie!” You giggle as you help him shuck it off. “So impatient, baby.”

“Can’t help it,” Eddie says, mouthing at the lace cups of your bra. “You’re too perfect. Drive me crazy.”

Reaching behind you, you unclasp your bra and slip it down your arms, allowing Eddie to bite at the cup and throw it from your body like a dog letting go of a bone. His mouth comes right back to your breast, tongue lapping over your nipple before wrapping his lips around it, his hand coming up to massage your other breast. Your fingers tangle in your boyfriend’s hair and your hips buck up against his, making him moan around your nipple. The vibrations send a tingle up your spine and cause you to whimper.

“Eddie,” you whine. “Need you.”

With a pop, Eddie lets go of your nipple and presses kisses along the valley between your breasts. 

“Need me how, angel?” he asks.

“Inside me. Please.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Eddie says, already shimmying his jeans down his hips. He’s already slipped the condom from his pocket and tossed it onto your tummy. You work on opening the foil packet as Eddie frees the both of you from your underwear. 

Eddie reaches down and runs his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick before moving back up to your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive nub, making your hands stall over the condom. 

“Fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan, Eddie smirking in satisfaction as he presses sweet kisses up your shoulder and across your collarbones. 

“Such language, baby,” he teases. 

“You’re one to talk,” you say with a laugh. Reaching down and wrapping your hand around his cock shuts him up. Eddie squeezes his eyes closed as you work the condom down his length, making sure to touch him as much as possible as you do. He twitches in your hand as you give him one final squeeze before moving your hand away. “Excited, handsome?”

“For my favorite pussy? Hell yes.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, hands running up his chest.

“Only pussy you’ve ever had, Eds.”

“I don’t need any other to know this is my favorite,” Eddie says between hot wet kisses against your neck. “You’re saying you’d need another dick to know mine is your favorite?” He takes a hold of himself in his hand, rubbing his aching tip through your soaked folds. 

“N-Never,” you moan. “Only dick I’ve ever had, only one I ever want.” 

“Good,” Eddie says as he starts to push inside of you. “I love being your one and only.” Your fingernails dig into Eddie’s shoulders as he thrusts more of himself into you. The way he stretches you out always feels perfect, every single time. “Only cock you’ve ever had.” He places a kiss to your lips. “Only boyfriend you’ve ever had.” Another kiss. “Only kiss you’ve ever had.” Another kiss. 

“You just love corrupting me, don’t you?” you ask in between heavy breaths. Eddie’s hips buck at your question, and you think you’ve got your answer. 

“Shit,” Eddie says as he buries himself in you fully. “Swear you get tighter every time.”

“Maybe you just get bigger,” you say with a playful smirk.

“Gonna give me a big head, baby.”

Eddie already knows he’s not going to be able to last terribly long, having been aching for you all day. It’s your fault, really, how much you turn him on just walking down the halls or tapping the eraser of your pencil against your perfectly glossed lips. 

He slips two fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, causing you to moan at his forcefulness. His hips keep a steady pace as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, sucking on them just enough to make his hips stutter. Your mouth let's go with a wet smack and Eddie lowers his spit-coated fingers to your clit, working against your nub in the way he knew drove you absolutely wild. 

Lips parting and eyes closing in pleasure, you lose yourself in the pressure of Eddie’s fingers and the absolute fullness of his cock nestled inside of you. 

“Feel good, angel?” Eddie asks.

Unable to speak, you nod your head, nails digging in even deeper to the pale skin of Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Good,” Eddie says, adding a little extra pressure to your clit. “Want you to cum on my cock, baby. Fuck, you know how much I love that.”

It’s true – Eddie’s pretty sure he could cum just from the feeling of your walls spasming around him and absolutely soaking all the way down to his balls. 

“Close,” you whimper, forcing your eyes open to look at your boyfriend above you. He’s flushed, sweat forcing some of his hair to stick to his forehead, and tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he works himself in and out of you at a steady pace. The sight makes you smile, and what you don’t know is that Eddie’s admiring the view of you as well. He takes in how your forehead is creased from the pleasure you feel, tits bouncing every time he presses into you, and your hair splayed out around you like a halo, making you look like the angel you are. 

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages, his hips speeding up. Your back arches in pleasure as his angle changes and he pounds into that perfect spongey spot inside of you. 

“There! Fuck, right there, Eddie.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says. 

Between Eddie’s cock ramming into that spot repeatedly and his fingers dancing over your clit deliciously, you feel yourself steadily reaching your climax. 

Eddie presses soft and sweet kisses up your neck and side of your face as you chant his name over and over again, the tenderness pushing you over the edge. Moaning out into the quiet house, your wave of pleasure crashes over you, sparks dancing in your vision. The clenching of your already tight walls around him has Eddie following you over the edge. His hips stutter once, twice before he’s releasing into the condom, fingers helping you through your own orgasm. Your boyfriend’s groans make the warm feeling in your tummy last even longer, thinking there could be nothing sexier in this world than the sounds Eddie makes. 

Once he’s spent, having spilled every bit of cum you’ve milked from him into the condom, Eddie drops his head into the crook of your neck and lets some of his body weight rest on you. Having him on top of you like this felt almost as wonderful as having him inside of you. You feel safe and loved with Eddie’s skin pressed against yours like this. His sweat melts with yours and both of you have matching smiles on your faces as you try to catch your breaths. 

“I love you,” Eddie says.

“I love you too,” you tell him. His smile grows when you brush some of his damp hair from his forehead, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls out of you, the pair of you hissing at the loss together. He rolls himself onto the floor and you giggle, turning your head to look down at your boyfriend. 

“You’re the cutest,” you say.

“That title is taken by you, angel.” Eddie throws a wink your way before slipping the condom off and tying off the end. He pushes himself up off the floor and presses a kiss to your lips before going to toss the used condom away. 

Stretching out on the couch, you let your muscles loosen for a moment before sitting up. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you slip back into them and scoop up your bra and dress.

“I’m gonna go change,” you call to Eddie in the kitchen before heading towards the stairs. 

Eddie comes back into the living room, wiping the remaining sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He hops back into his boxers and jeans, tossing his leather jacket over an armchair before he slips his Iron Maiden shirt back over his head. You come back into the room, an old pair of Eddie’s sweatpants hung low on your hips and your softest sweater keeping you warm. Eddie drops down onto the couch and you plop down next to him. When you turn your head to smile up at him, he feels his head go fuzzy and his stomach trembles like he’s swallowed a vibrator. 

“What?” you ask of the shy look on his face. 

“Nothing,” he says, looking into your eyes. “I’m just really in love with you. And you have gorgeous eyes.”

You let out a giggle as you feel yourself getting flustered. 

“You’re one to talk about gorgeous eyes,” you say. 

He grins and slides an arm around your shoulders, melting into your touch when the soft sweater meets the skin of his arm. You tuck your hands up in the long green sleeves of the sweater and lean into his side. 

“I love this sweater, too,” Eddie says. “You should wear it to school tomorrow.”

“Eddie, you would get detention before the end of homeroom.”

“Why?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“You wouldn’t keep your hands off of me,” you say with a laugh. “It seems to be a magical sweater that just draws your hands in.”

He gives an overly dramatic roll of his eyes and wraps both arms around you, hugging you and the sweater against his chest. 

“That’s nothing new, though. Mr. Martin is used to it by now,” Eddie says of your homeroom teacher. 

“I guess as long as your hands don’t slip under the sweater it will be okay.”

“Nah,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ll leave that for second period.”

Eddie can’t stop looking or thinking about your picture in the centerfold for days. Gareth knows better than to mention it, and if he told the other guys, they’re smart enough not to say anything either. Every song they play at every show reminds him of you in some way. His mind even makes leaps to connect you with songs that have nothing to do with love or heartbreak at all. You haven’t invaded his mind this consistently for nearly a decade. 

The show tonight in New York City is one of the largest crowds that Corroded Coffin has had in a while and Eddie is finding it harder to care than he usually would. He lives for big crowds, but his heart hasn’t been in the music for the past few days. The rest of the band could tell, but again, wouldn’t say anything to him about it.

Eddie knows that whatever is going on with him has to do with you, but he can’t put his finger on what exactly it is that’s bothering him. It’s not the fact that you’re in the centerfold; Eddie knows you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions. Though he is curious what led you from shy book worm to the hottest centerfold he’s ever seen. He’s a big enough man to admit that he’s a little jealous that others get to see you like he once did, but that’s not what’s really getting to him. The more he tries to figure it out, the more the reason seems to evade him. 

After the sound check and before show time, Eddie walks into the green room to see Jeff lounging on the couch, his girlfriend perched on his lap.

“Hey, Kathy!” Eddie greets her with a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” 

“Neither did Jeff,” she says with a giggle.

“She surprised me,” Jeff explains, a giddy smile on his face as he squeezes his girlfriend in his arms. 

Eddie takes a seat at the small table in the room, a bowl of pretzels waiting there. His thick fingers pull a few out and as he’s popping them in his mouth, he notices Jeff and Kathy with their heads together, whispering and laughing. An odd feeling rolls through Eddie’s stomach and that’s when it finally hits him. He misses you. Sure, he’s had girlfriends since you’d been together, and he’s even fallen in love since then too. And maybe when he’d been with those girls he’d thought it felt different than when he was with you, but he’d just assumed that was because you were his first love. Didn’t people say that’s something that always stays with you? But maybe it was something more than that. 

“You ready?”

Gareth’s voice breaks Eddie from his thoughts, his head snapping to look at his bandmate standing in the doorway. Gareth is looking between Eddie and Jeff, raising his eyebrows at them like they forgot they had a show to put on. Jeff gives Kathy one last kiss before he and Eddie follow their friend out, headed towards the stage.

It’s a great show. Something always felt different playing in New York City and tonight was no exception. The crowd seemed louder; the music seemed to pump through Eddie’s veins with every chord. He flung his pick into the audience after the set, and the screaming girl who caught it made him laugh. Nothing like New York. 

“Dude,” Grant says as Eddie’s inhaling a bottle of water back in the green room. He just raises his eyebrows at his friend while he continues chugging. “Party a few blocks over. It sounds pretty fucking amazing.”

I really don’t want to party, Eddie thinks. What the fuck, dude? He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Since when do you not want to go to an after party? Get it the fuck together.

“Uh, sure,” Eddie says. “Just let me get changed.” 

The party is in some penthouse that has way too many bodies and not nearly enough ventilation in it. Eddie walks in with his friends and Kathy, eyes scanning the place to see where he can grab a drink. There’s a bar over in the corner with a few bartenders on duty. Eddie tries to imagine any of the parties he went to in high school having an actual bartender. 

He makes his way over and orders a Whiskey Highball, Gareth right behind him ordering a Jack and Coke. Once they’ve got their drinks, Gareth spots a girl that he's “just got to talk to” and leaves Eddie standing there by himself. Letting out a sigh, Eddie makes his way into the room, eyes taking in the different people drinking, talking, making out, laughing, all under the shitty dim lighting coming from somewhere; Eddie couldn’t even figure out where from. 

A girl approaches him, and he flips the switch to turn on his charm. Eddie takes in her long legs, her dark skin, and mini dress she’s wearing that looks completely made up of sequins. It’s a lot, but the dim lighting is keeping the glare from hitting him in the eyes. 

“You look familiar,” the girl says.

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ve seen my band play.”

“Hmm, so drummer?” she asks. 

“Guitarist.” Eddie acts like he’s offended, placing his hand on his chest. “You think these talented fingers are only used for holding drumsticks?” 

She giggles and Eddie can’t help but notice how pretty her smile is. She’s a pretty girl in general, but her smile is her best feature. 

“I’m Eddie.” 

She introduces herself and his stomach drops when she introduces herself with the same first name that you have. 

“T-That’s a nice name,” Eddie says, game completely thrown off at this point. 

“Thanks!” She continues to talk but Eddie doesn’t hear a word she’s saying. All he’s thinking about is how to get out of this conversation because there’s no way he can deal with spending time with someone who has the same name as you. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he can’t do it. 

When she finishes speaking, Eddie sends her an apologetic look.

“I’m so sorry, but I actually just saw someone that I need to talk to.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she says with her pretty smile. “Maybe I’ll see you in a little while?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. No, Eddie thinks. 

He tries to find one of his friends to talk to, just in case she was watching, Eddie didn’t want her to think he was trying to ditch her. Even though he kind of was. But none of his band mates are in sight so Eddie settles for claiming an empty seat he’s spotted on a purple couch near the large windows exposing the New York Skyline, all lit up in the darkness. 

There’s a woman sitting next to Eddie, and she turns to give him a smile. Her hair is even curlier than his is and he admits he finds that impressive. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his space. Eddie’s never minded a woman coming into his personal space, though.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He leans against the back of the couch and crosses one leg over the other, the hand not holding his glass resting on his booted ankle. 

“What brings you to the party?” the woman asks, batting her dark eyelashes over her bright hazel eyes. 

“My friends, honestly. We finished our show and they said we had to come.”

“Show? Are you on Broadway?”

Eddie laughs at this because the mental image of him on a stage dressed like a singing cat springs to mind.

“Nah, I’m in a band. We just played a show a few blocks over,” he says. 

“Are you the lead singer?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“And lead guitarist,” Eddie says, holding his drink up as if he’s going to make a toast. She laughs and Eddie can’t help himself from asking. “I’m sorry, but, what’s your name?”

“Johnna.”

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

They start talking about being in the city, as she’s only visiting as well for an art exhibit. Eddie’s finished his drink and is moving to set it on the table in front of the couch when movement through the crowd of people catches his eye. He looks up and is stunned to his seat. His jaw drops open and he blinks his eyes a few times to make sure his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. Between two groups of people talking, standing about twenty feet away, is his angel. Eddie isn’t sure how long he’s staring before Johnna waves her hand in front of his face.

“Hello? Earth to Eddie?”

He’s snapped out of his trance and looks to Johnna hesitantly, not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a moment. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie says. He bites his lip and glances back to make sure you’re still there; that he didn’t dream you up. “Um, I'm really sorry but I see someone over there I haven’t seen in almost ten years. I’ve got to go say hi.”

Johnna looks disappointed, but she nods her head. He gives her a grateful smile before he pushes himself off the purple couch and through the tightening crowd. You’ve moved from where you previously were but it’s not hard to find you in the crowd, his eyes instinctually brought to the back of your head, that sight of familiar beautiful hair. The silky emerald dress you’re wearing sways with every step you take and his eyes are drawn to the backs of your thighs. As perfect as he remembers.

Too many people keep darting in his pathway to you, making him lose his patience a little more each time. Fuck it, he decides. He’s shooting his shot. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts your name. 

You freeze on the spot, as if your heels had stepped in crazy glue. That voice. That voice calling your name. You’d know it anywhere, even in a packed party. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, you turn around and your heart not only disobeys you by continuing to race, but it also feels like it’s going to leap out of your chest and fly across the room to the one person it’s always belonged to. 

“Eddie.” His name on your lips sparks all the memories flooding back. All the makeout sessions in the back of his van, all the times you sat at the closest table to the stage when the guys had gigs at The Hideout. The way he always seemed to know when you were having a bad day and would show up to final period with flowers that he somehow managed to get. He’d never spilled his secrets on how he got them, no matter how many times you’d asked. 

Eddie finally makes his way to you, and you can’t help but just stare at his wide brown eyes and frizzy curls when he stands before you. He looks older, more mature, but he’s still the same beautiful boy you shared your first everything with. The same way he’s shoving his hands into his pockets because he’s nervous. Same smile and the same look from underneath his eyelashes. You feel like you’re going to melt. Was it always this hot in here?

“You’re here,” you say. Duh, obviously, you think to yourself. 

“And you’re here.” 

“H-How are you?” you ask. Okay, it’s definitely getting hotter in the room. 

“I’m good,” Eddie says with a smile. That smile was always your undoing and it was proving to have the same effect all these years later. “How are you?”

“Good,” you say, finding yourself getting lost in his eyes. Nothing has changed since you were 15, has it? 

The music somehow gets turned up even higher and it has you wincing.

“Do you want to go outside?” Eddie offers, gesturing towards the door. You nod and head in that direction, Eddie’s hand coming to the small of your back as if no time has passed at all. 

Your hearing is still muffled as you two stumble out onto the sidewalk in front of the building. The city’s streets were never silent, but this was far preferable to the deafening bass upstairs. 

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask, wrapping your arms around yourself in the brisk night air. Eddie doesn’t miss a thing and instantly shrugs out of his leather jacket, putting it over your shoulders. It shouldn’t make you feel as tingly as it does, but you can’t help but smile as you’re enveloped by its warmth and its familiar smell of Eddie. You hold it tighter against your body.

“We, uh, just played a show a few blocks over,” Eddie says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the venue.

“Really?” you ask, eyes wide. “If I had known I would’ve been front row. Still know all the lyrics.” You give him a proud smirk.

“Even the new ones?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows playfully. 

“Of course,” you say. “You think I don’t buy Corroded Coffin albums the day they drop? I’m no fake fan.”

Eddie laughs and reaches up to scratch the back of his head. The sound goes straight to your heart, his laughter making it soar. 

“I, uh, guess I should tell you I’ve seen your latest work, too.”

“Oh! Really?” The only difference Eddie sees between you then and now is the fact that you’re not blushing right now. High school you would’ve looked like a tomato if Eddie even suggested taking a sexy Polaroid of you. Didn’t stop you from saying yes eventually, though. 

“To be totally honest,” Eddie starts with a nervous chuckle. “Gareth saw it first and gave it to me. Or maybe I confiscated it.”

“Thank you for that,” you answer with a nervous giggle of your own. “The thought of Gareth seeing that feels weird. Nothing you haven’t seen before, though.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I don’t think you had that negligee when we were dating.”

His cheeky grin makes you giggle again, and you take a step towards him. 

“Do you think it’s weird?” You want his honest answer. Obviously, you had no problem with it, seeing as you’d done it, but you knew there would be people who didn’t approve. 

“Weird? No, not at all. Was I surprised? Hell yes. I mean, my angel is the centerfold.”

A smile lights up your face and you take another step closer to him. 

“I haven’t been called that since you.”

“What, angel?”

“Yeah. But I’m glad. Anyone else calling me that would’ve felt weird. That’s your name for me.”

“And I’ve never called anyone else it,” Eddie says, making you emotional in a way you didn’t expect. “I’m curious, though,” Eddie starts, too nervous to meet your eyes in case you take his question the wrong way. “How’d you get into…that?”

“Oh, well in my senior year of college I dated a photography student. He used me for a project – clothes on – and he got an A. Then there was a photography competition he wanted to enter, and since I brought him luck last time, he asked if I’d do it again. This one was less clothing, but still decent. He won that contest and his pictures appeared in a magazine. The people from that magazine then called and wanted me, not my boyfriend, to work for them.”

“And how’d that go?” Eddie asks with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes. “He was such a baby about it. It’s not like I asked them. He was so petty and jealous that he broke up with me. I didn’t really care though, because I felt like I’d finally seen his true colors. Anyway, the magazine had me model for a couple of issues. Mostly clothes or promo pictures for a restaurant or club or something. And so, one of the photographers at this magazine was also working for XXXTRA and knew they were looking for someone new for their centerfold. So, he showed them my picture and they asked me to do it.”

“Were you scared?” Eddie asks. His hand is fighting the urge to reach out and grab yours. 

“Yeah,” you admit with a laugh. “I didn’t want to make a career out of this, it was just an easy job that kind of fell in my lap. The centerfold would’ve been the most I’d made modeling up to that point, so I figured what the hell? I’ve always been a good, quiet girl so I thought it’d be kind of funny to think of people looking at that picture of me and imagining I’m some wild, risk-taking woman.”

“So, what’re you doing now?” Eddie asks and you shrug.

“Not sure. I got my degree in English, so I’ve been thinking of going into writing.”

“Oh, you totally should,” Eddie says, getting excited at the idea. “You always wrote the best stories in Mrs. Thompson’s class.” 

Eddie’s compliment has your face warming and it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. Eddie looks at you and sees his girl, completely and wholly. 

“You never told me why you’re in New York,” Eddie says.

“Oh, yeah! One of my best friends from college had her opening night on Broadway tonight. We came here after the opening night party.”

“That’s pretty cool. Was the show good?”

“It really was! I hope it’s not one of those ones that just doesn't get the recognition it deserves.”

“What’s it called?” Eddie asks.

“Rent.”

“Huh. Weird name.”

“Says the guy who came up with the name Corroded Coffin.” Your smirk makes Eddie want to pull you into his arms and kiss all over your face. 

“How long are you in town?” you ask Eddie.

“Bus leaves tomorrow afternoon. Gotta head to Philly next. What about you?”

“Flying home tomorrow, too,” you say.

“Where’s home now?”

“Hawkins.” You say the town’s name with a smile, and it makes Eddie think back fondly on the town as well. 

“Home sweet home,” Eddie says. 

“Listen, um…” You bite your lip, nervous in front of Eddie for the first time since…well, probably your first time. “I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or something, but if you don’t, do you maybe want to get breakfast together in the morning? Catch up?”

“No girlfriend,” Eddie says, taking a step to close the ever-shrinking gap between the two of you. “And I would love to have breakfast with you. Hell, I’d sit on the sidewalk and eat a soft pretzel from that cart down there just to spend time with you.”

His favorite blush in the world comes to your cheeks and Eddie wonders how he ever lived without that in his life. 

“Well, my rental car is right there,” you say, nodding your head towards a black Toyota. “That’s probably more comfortable than the sidewalk.”

“You rented a car in New York City?” Eddie asks with a laugh.

“I rented that car from Boston and drove it here, thank you very much.”

“Why were you – oh shit, were you visiting Nancy and Steve? Meet the new baby?”

“I sure did,” you say with a bright grin. “Little Elliot already has his daddy’s hair.” 

“Poor kid,” Eddie teases. You chuckle and reach out to grab his hand with yours. He laces his fingers with yours and it just feels right. Natural. Like it’s only been hours since you’d held one another's hands and not years. 

“Come on,” you say and tug Eddie in the direction of your car. Once you’re both inside, the question that’s been begging to be asked finally slips out.

“Do you, uh, want to come back to my hotel room?” 

Eddie takes in your nervous expression, like you’re afraid he’ll say no. He takes in your green dress, your gorgeous eyes, and everything he’s been missing. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Unless you’re too eager and need to take me in the back of your car?”

The memory of you saying something very similar to him in high school makes you laugh as you turn the key to start the ignition. 

“Don’t tempt me,” you answer. 

The next morning you both decide to forgo breakfast. Another round of sex and cuddling takes precedence over food. And sleep, seeing as you both got less than three hours of sleep the whole night. Much of it was spent talking, catching up on what’s happened in the years since you’ve been together. Admissions of you both thinking of each other often over the years and heartfelt confessions that both of you want this to be something more than just a one-night reunion. You can write from the road if you want, Eddie tells you. He even promises to buy you the fanciest typewriter to keep on the tour bus. It sounds perfect. Being with Eddie everyday sounds like a dream come true.��

The sun is peeking in through the curtain of the hotel room, rays casting over the white blankets you and Eddie are curled up underneath. Heads facing each other on the same pillow, Eddie’s hand cups the side of your face and strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. You two had celebrated all your firsts together. First kiss, first relationship, first time having sex, first heartbreak. Even just last night you’d had another first together when you’d forgone the condom because you wanted to feel one another as close as possible. It was the first time either of you had that complete skin to skin contact during sex. 

Eddie wants all the firsts and onlys with you. He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. Only fiancé. Another kiss. Only husband. Another kiss. Only father of your children. Another kiss. Only love of your life. 

[hannahbisssssss]

Creep Josef Headcannons

Someone Tries to Hurt You

Oh boy.

Josef is ON THEM like hornets in their nest.

Instantly comes to your rescue, knowing that you’re being harassed the second he sees how uncomfortable you look. 

Josef is not a physically intimidating guy per se, but he knows how to hold his own.

I mean. Come on. He’s killed 39 people. He’s learned a thing or two. 

There is an almost instant fight. 

Josef, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t like to fight unfairly.

For you, however, he would fight a thousand times over in the most unfair way possible.

“We can do this right here, or outside. Honestly, I’m fine either way.”

If you try to hold him back, he’s incredibly gentle with you, grabbing your arm or holding your hand. 

“Let’s just go.” 

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

Punches the dude in the mouth if he tries anything else.

It had been a particularly rough day at the office, and Josef suggested that you go out for the night. He didn’t tend to enjoy large crowds, but he knew you were more comfortable in them and wanted to cater to you. You both decided to go to a low-key bar downtown, as it offered a larger area than the house, but a small enough area so you could both see each other. 

When you got to the bar, Josef instantly went to order drinks for the two of you. He doesn’t tend to drink, but is comfortable doing it around you. As he walked away, you went to find a place to sit. You found a nice booth near one of the windows, which showed the beautiful scenery outside. Something for the both of you.

“Why hello there, darlin’,” a thickly drawled voice came from behind. Turning around, thinking it was Josef trying to play a trick on you, your smile fell as you saw a large and intimidating man staring at you. 

“Hello,” you tried to keep the conversation short. 

“How are you this fine evening?”

“I’m alright. Just waiting for my boyfriend to come back with our drinks.” That should work.

“Oh come on, sweetheart, how about you and I spend the evening together?” Or not.

“I’m not really comfortable with that. Thank you though,” your politeness would be the death of you. Josef always tried to teach you to be more assertive, which clearly wasn’t working tonight. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone for the night.” Thank god. “If you give me a kiss.” Jesus.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause a fight or anything, but I would really appreciate it if you just left me alone.”

“You making friends over here, my dear?” Josef’s voice came from behind the mountain of a man. You have never been so relieved.

“You could say that,” the man said, turning to face Josef. 

“If you were lying you certainly could,” you responded. The man turned back to scowl at you. 

“Well, it seems that my girlfriend is not comfortable with you being around her, and I suggest that you listen to her. Once is more than enough times to tell you to fuck off.” Josef’s smile was intimidating; his eyes were deadly serious. 

“I don’t take kindly to smaller guys telling me what to do,” the man stood up to his full height.

“And you clearly won’t listen when anybody tells you no. Now, big guy, I would seriously recommend you take a few steps back so I can hand my girlfriend’s drink to her. I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’m sure you don’t, little guy,” the man took a step towards Josef. 

“Let’s just go, Josef,” you said, trying to gently move towards him. Unfortunately, the man was still in the way, and he grabbed your shoulder as you tried to get close to Josef. Now, you weren’t exactly sure what was going through Josef’s mind, but it wasn’t good. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, so you pulled yourself away from the man’s grip, grabbing Josef’s arm. 

“It’s okay, honey. We can just go home, alright?” Josef, clearly not wanting to leave the situation, had an unsettling smile on his face.

“After this son of a bitch apologizes to you, I would be glad to, Y/N.” 

“I ain’t apologizing for shit,” the man spat towards you.

“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” Josef spoke casually. Quickly, he threw the two drinks at the man’s face, punching him in the mouth the second he was blinded by the liquid. The man staggered, trying to wipe the alcohol out from his eyes. The punch disoriented him, however, and Josef took the opportunity to kick the man in the balls. 

“If you ever come around here and harass my girlfriend, or any other woman, I’ll make sure to find where you live and fuck you up there, too.” That was clearly a lie. He would be looking up where this man lived the second he could. The bouncer was nearing us, ready to throw the two of us out. You rested your hand on Josef’s shoulder. 

“Let’s get out of here, honey.” Josef just nodded, shrugging off the hand of the bouncer that tried to grab his other shoulder.

“We’re already leaving.” The two of you walk out together, making the trek back to your car. 

“I really appreciate you standing up for me.”

“I could’ve fucking killed him right then,” he growled. 

“I’m glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t want to have a boyfriend in jail,” Josef finally sighed, smiling at you. 

“That wouldn’t be good for either of us,” he replied. 

“Nope!” With that, I kissed him on the cheek, ready to head home after the hectic day the two of us had.

[myremnantarmy]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥

Tuesday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lk 7:11-17

Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain,

and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him.

As he drew near to the gate of the city,

a man who had died was being carried out,

the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.

A large crowd from the city was with her.

When the Lord saw her,

he was moved with pity for her and said to her,

"Do not weep."

He stepped forward and touched the coffin;

at this the bearers halted,

and he said, "Young man, I tell you, arise!"

The dead man sat up and began to speak,

and Jesus gave him to his mother.

Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming,

"A great prophet has arisen in our midst,"

and "God has visited his people."

This report about him spread through the whole of Judea

and in all the surrounding region.

[pedge-stuff]

accident (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

poll winner! eat up, 54.5% of you. (and, thank you!) if you wanna influence the next thing too… my asks are open…

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always.

summary: he can’t lose you.

——————————————————————————

You're kind of a sight.

Hunched in the hospital hallway, in your Calvins and socks and nothing more. The Emergency Room of New York Presbyterian is dangerously overcrowded, people streaming in and out of curtained-off rooms emitting beeping alarms and low moans. 

Some nurse had fixed a sling across your shoulder, tucked an industrial icepack against the pulsing swell of your collarbone, wiped some blood from your face and side and hands, and then left you on the bed. Your phone is gone— laying somewhere on the Brooklyn Bridge, probably.

It hurts. Really hurts, now that shock and adrenaline have given way to a bone-weary exhaustion. No drugs yet, haven’t even been seen by a fucking doctor— the pile-up was extensive, whole ER crowded with bloodied and bruised passengers.

Seems like it's just your collarbone that's broken. At least, it feels broken. The nurse touched it, hissed, and muttered something about an x-ray before he was off running towards an urgent-sounding beeping down the hall. Pain radiates up and down your left arm.

Over an hour now, just sitting on a cot in the hallway. The dinner should be half over by now. You wonder, halfheartedly, how mad Pedro is. How long he waited outside the Museum of Natural History before giving up and going into the charity benefit by himself. Oscar and Elvira were supposed to be there, so at least he wouldn't be completely alone. But, still. You couldn't give him a heads-up without a phone.

Eyes closed against the bright fluorescents, you attempt some deep breaths, concentrating on the bite of the plastic ice against your bare skin. No idea when they’ll let you leave, but you’re fantasizing about going the fuck home. Seems like maybe a lot of things need to happen between now and then.

“— there, fuck.” A familiar voice, close.

Blinking, you wonder for a second if you are hallucinating. A familiar head of brown-and-grey curls is bobbing and weaving down the hallway. You catch flashes of the emerald suit that was hanging on the closet door this morning, fresh from the dry cleaners.

Pedro may as well be floating, with the speed he reaches you. How the hell?

You barely have time to register his presence before there are warm hands on your cheek, your neck, the back of your head. 

"Oh, thank god. Jesus christ." Pedro is looking you up and down frantically. You realize you don’t really know what you look like right now. Covered in goosebumps, cold and a little numb and very exposed. Possibly a little bloodier than the last time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” It is the only question you can think to ask, though it feels like a really stupid thing to say.

He busies himself with kissing your face. Panic-stricken, feather-light things, all along your brow line and the bridge of your nose. Your cheeks are still cradled in his large palms.

When he pulls back, Pedro's eyes are glossy. His mouth opens and closes, like he doesn't quite trust himself to speak, dragging in a shaky inhale. "Baby I’m your next of kin. The police called and said you'd been in an accident. Said you were at Presbyterian, couldn't tell me how serious it was, if you were still—" Voice cracking, he squeezes his eyes shut, slow tears trailing from the corners of his eyes.

Your cheeks are suddenly cold as he pulls back to scrub at his own. "Sorry," Pedro whispered. "I was really fucking scared. Jesus. The Uber was driving so slow, and I was worried that we would get here and it would be too late. Or that it was already too late, and I didn't even know."

It is your hand to cup his cheek, with the hand not currently strapped and elevated. "It's okay. I'm okay, we're okay. Everything is okay." You brush a thumb across his cheekbone.

"You're not okay," he sniffs mournfully. Suddenly, Pedro pulls back, looking you over again. "What's the damage?" There is a frantic quality to his examination, eyes wide, brow furrowed.

“I think my collarbone’s broken, otherwise just cuts and bruises. Seatbelt did it." He hisses, inspecting the sling without daring touch it.  "I don't really know what's going on— it seems like some people got really hurt." 

You remember, at the last second, to act 27 though you very much feel 17. Square your throbbing shoulders, alert. It’s something you are maybe a little too conscious of: the jailbait soulmate.

It lasts all of ten seconds— a replaced hand in your hair tips you forward, gently, until your forehead is pressed against his starch-shirted stomach. Warm fingers rub the nape of your neck, migrate down the length of your bare spine.

Involuntarily, you shiver. "Baby, where are your clothes?"

"I don't even know, at this point. The nurse was supposed to bring back like a gown or something, but that was over an hour ago." Before you've finished speaking, he is shrugging off his suit jacket, careful as he drapes it over your slung shoulder.

Your brain is slowly catching up to the absurdity of the circumstances. "Pedge, did you leave the dinner?"

He gapes at you. "Of course I left the dinner, are you insane?"

"You were supposed to be speaking!"

"You are in the hospital. There is nothing more important to me, sweetheart, and no way in hell I would stay at that stupid dinner knowing you were here." You pull yourself away, reluctantly and slow, to sit up. Pedro thumbs your jawline, tilting your head up slightly, so that you meet his eyes.

"I love you," he says softly. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I don’t want to know.”

Chaos continues around you. Other patients are waiting for other nurses, crowded on other cots, with other broken extremities. But none of them could possibly be as lucky.

At your insistence, Pedro gingerly takes a seat beside you on the bed. Your legs bump where they hang off the side. Pressing your uninjured side against his, you sit, and wait.

Still half-naked and exposed, unmedicated, exhausted, but at peace.

[icallhimjoey]

All Goes South

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe is overworked, tired, exhausted and just... he needs a break. Everyone knows it, too. None of it is really exciting to him anymore. Then, he meets you, and something reignites within him.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, angst, mentions of smut

Author’s note: Here's part 4! There's girlies who have started to figure some shit out and are leaving me beautiful theories in my askbox - I love it. Also, I am sorry.

Wordcount: 4.7k

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It felt totally dodgy to be waiting by a dirty steel door on the side of the building, one that could only be opened from the inside, and was away from all the hustle and bustle of press and actors and all the crowds of people.

Joe told you to wait for him there.

He'd sneak you in.

"You snuck me out of something, let me sneak you into something," Joe had said.

"Have you got a ticket for me? What if they check?"

Joe laughed, said, "You've never been to a film premier before, have you?"

"Obviously I fucking haven't, Jesus Christ, Joe,"

You didn't know what that meant. Did they not check tickets? Did they only do that at the door? Would Joe wait until the film started to come and get you? You had no clue, but Joe said to wait there and he'd come and get you. Promised you he would.

You checked the time. Any minute now Joe was meant to let you inside.

Realising that you looked a little nervous, you thought perhaps you shouldn't be so jittery and be looking around so much. That made it look like you were being sneaky. Best to act very casual. Just lean against the wall, like you're meant to be there.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Your heart jumped into your throat when you saw it was from Joe.

"They're doing popcorn. Sweet or salty?"

Of course they fucking do popcorn, this was a cinema, wasn't it?

"Can I be annoying and ask for a mix?"

Joe read your message, but didn't reply.

This was so stupid.

Just when you were about to get antsy enough to consider leaving, there was movement. Metal creaked and with a shove, the door opened roughly, revealing Joe, who'd pushed the door open with his shoulders, holding two striped popcorn boxes.

He looked really good. All dapper. Handsome. Fuck.

His eyes were large and he winced at the loud noise the door made, immediately checking behind him. Then he beckoned you with his head and you slipped into the building, now crossing a barrier, definitely breaking rules, illegally trespassing to see a film you had no right to see.

"Most people have gone inside, we should be good. Walk ahead of me, I'll tell you where to go,"

And so like you were some assistant, someone guiding Joe throughout the building, you walked ahead of him and listened as he whispered, "Up the stairs," "Take a left," "Door on the right," and your heart thumped heavily in your throat as you walked past some people in designer outfits who stood together and talked. Celebrities. No one really paid attention to you though, and behind you, you heard Joe say hi to them. You feared maybe someone would stop him, rope him in for a chat because then what would you do? Would you keep walking? Sort of aimlessly keep wandering?

They didn't stop him. Thank fuck.

Joe lead you up another set of stairs to a little balcony that only held 8 red plush cinema chairs, and it was very clear that it wasn't meant to be used on this occasion. On the other side of the theater you saw a the other balcony was empty too, and it made you relax a little. There was no way people were going to see you up there.

This was exciting. Made you whisper, "Oh my God," a lot, which in turn, made Joe grin impossibly wide.

Joe sat down, and you did too - quickly, because being this close to the banister made you feel a little exposed standing up. There were previews playing for upcoming films you'd never heard of, all very exclusive.

"Sweet and salty," Joe whispered and handed you both the boxes of popcorn.

"What?" You were about to say, this isn't what you meant. But then Joe took the top of one of them and lifted it out of an empty box that you were then still holding. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, he tipped a little from one of the full boxes into the empty one. Joe then waited, and when you didn't do anything, he tapped the full box of popcorn in your other hand.

Oh. Yes, of course. You tipped some of that in, and then Joe again, and then you, until there was 1 box of sweet and salty popcorn, just how you liked it. It was sort of dark, and this had every potential to get messy, but you'd been surprisingly steady-handed given the situation you were in.

It was very apparent that this was weird. You'd met Joe the night before, not even 24 fucking hours ago, and under questionable circumstances as well. And now he'd smuggled you into a place you definitely weren't meant to be, and it was exciting but nervewracking.

Joe tipped whatever was left into a box together and discarded the empty one to the side.

You gave each other a look, one that said, this is mad and so so dumb, and you both had to repress giggles. You were about to watch a film with a bunch of celebrities - none of which you could see, the room was dark, and you were up high on a balcony trying to hide from them, but even just knowing that they were down there was thrilling to you.

But then the film started, and about ten minutes in, your mind was elsewhere. Racing. You were going to be sat next to Joe for about two hours. In the dark. Just the two of you. In silence. All sober.

You couldn't focus on the film at all.

Because you were sat next to Joe. And it was just the two of you and you'd had sex.

Twice.

And now... so, um... now what?

It kind of felt like doom overtook you, and you let it all go south. What if someone was to come up here and catch you? How much trouble would you be in? How much trouble would Joe be in?

You were hyperaware of the man next to you, tried your best to relax, but, it just wasn't going to happen, was it?

About 45 minutes into the film, your leg was bouncing, and you and Joe had just silently stared at the screen. Ate popcorn. Hadn't touched each other once. Which, you know, was fine, because your hands were exceptionally clammy.

You didn't know how to be around Joe. How to act. What to say.

You were strangers to each other.

Complete strangers.

At a particular funny bit in the film, Joe laughed and looked at you, but saw you were sort of... staring into space, not even paying attention to whatever was happening on screen at all. Uncomfortable energy radiated from you as you fidgetted with your fingers, and Joe thought he recognised an anxiety attack, so he reached to squeeze one of your hands.

"Hey, you want to get out of here?" he whispered, his face soft but serious. No playing.

You snapped your head and looked at him, a little panicked and definitely awkward. What was he insinuating?

"Um, no, that's okay, we can stay,"

Joe huffed a breath through his nose, and whispered, "I didn't mean let's get out of here wink wink nudge nudge, I meant, you seem anxious, let's leave, get some fresh air."

You blinked at Joe for a moment, thought things over in your mind and then decided, um, yea, you should probably leave.

"Yea, all right," and you were already up on your feet leaving Joe to feel guilty for not having noticed the state of you sooner.

You walked out the main entrance together, unafraid of getting caught, because you were already on your way out anyway. Outside people were packing up large metal barriers and rolling up the red carpets and even though you were in the middle of the city with questionable air quality; breathing in cold air was nice.

You crossed your arms and hugged them tightly to your body as Joe guided you with a hand that hovered behind your lower back towards a road where you could get a cab. You said something about the film, tried to excuse your nervous demeanor and Joe politely engaged in conversation. Made you feel like it wasn't a big deal, said he wanted to get an early night in anyway.

Whilst you waited for a taxi, you stood close to each other, but didn't touch, and it felt a bit strange. You were doing this whole thing backwards and all of it felt wrong.

"I meant what I said you know," Joe suddenly said.

You looked up at him, confused. You didn't know what he was referencing and it made Joe swallow thickly. You were going to make him say it. Sober.

"I don't think we made any mistakes... you're not–" Joe coughed into his hand and you couldn't help repress a smile as you noticed he seemed a little nervous too. "You're not a mistake."

You laughed, loudly. It was all nerves that bubbled up out of you, and then you scrunched your nose up at him.

"Yea, well... we'll see,"

And it was silly, but you felt a little fragile when Joe then grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him on the back of your laughter. He enveloped you into a hug and then just kind of... held you, for a moment. Joe held tight arms behind your back, and then, he moved one up to cradle your head and press it against his chest so he could perch his head upon it.

You didn't even really care about the empty cabs whizzing past. Joe was holding you and it was warm and it was nice and you released all tension in a deep sigh and actually, you kind of regretted not having touched him sooner. Not having kissed him sooner. You could've held hands in the cinema, but you hadn't, and now you felt stupid because, you dumb idiot, this was so nice.

When you felt Joe pull back a little, you moved your head to look up at him and you were embarrased as you smiled at each other. Joe was all kindness, his eyes told you he understood, even if you didn't even fully understand yourself.

God, you just... you just really wanted to kiss him.

You only had to move up onto your tippy-toes a little bit for Joe to naturally dip down for a kiss. And fuck, it was so soft. Joe kissed you with so much feeling, you almost wanted to whine into it. You could've been doing exactly this in the dark, in private, up on a balcony but now, instead, you were stood by the side of a busy street and that was the mistake. Because you kind of wanted to grab Joe by his hair, drag him into a taxi with you and kiss him deeper, and harder, and lick his mouth all over until you were all wet and panting.

But you couldn't.

Because you were out on the street.

And you were going home alone.

When you finally broke your kiss, because honestly, it was getting a bit much, Joe looked past you, waved a high arm, and a cab pulled up.

"All right, well, let me know if you need sneaking out of something again," you joked as Joe opened the door for you.

"You sure?" Joe challenged with a smile. "You're gonna be busy then, because I've got a lot coming up,"

And you smiled at each other as you sat down and Joe closed the door for you.

You gave the driver your address and Joe bent over outside your window, pressed a kiss against his fingers and then pressed his hand against the glass. You did the same, and it was all sorts of adorable, until the taxi pulled up and drove off.

Ugh.

Yea, all right. You liked Joe. You liked Joe a lot.

Maybe you should've just gotten drunk again before you'd gone to meet Joe outside that steel door on the side of cinema. Everything would've been easier and maybe would've felt more natural if you'd been drunk together.

It was only seconds later when you received a text message.

From Joe.

"I've got a TV recording on Thursday"

It was quickly followed by another.

"Want me to sneak you in so you can sneak me out?"

Over two weeks passed where Joe snuck you into TV recordings, award shows, film premiers and other industry events.

Two weeks of nerves and anxiety but also fun and actual butterflies.

There was no denying, there were actual butterflies and you were trying your very bestest best to ignore them, but sometimes, Joe would text you and say he was making dinner and you should come over and then you would.

And then you'd have dinner together at Joe's house, and would maybe play footsie under the table, and maybe, if you were lucky, you'd kiss in the kitchen after you'd loaded up the dishwasher together.

You'd not said it in so many words, but it felt like you agreed to take things slow. Slower, at least.

You'd only had sex one more time after that first night, and it was in Joe's shower.

Thinking back to it, it almost felt impossible to explain to yourself how you'd gotten there, and it was easy to pretend it hadn't happened. All of it had just... washed down the drain. Had disappeared. Wasn't really there anymore.

Except obviously, it was very there.

And Joe was very handsy.

Always so very handsy.

You kind of loved it.

Joe took you to all things Joe didn't really want to go to, didn't really want to do at all, but your giddy little face whenever you'd set foot on a set, or in a green room, or got to meet someone you admired was so fun to witness. He just wanted to show you everything. Have you experience everything. Make you see how fun things could be, even if he'd kind of forgotten himself since he'd grown kind of tired of it all.

That was why you also never stayed long. The second Joe felt like he could leave, you'd sneak out together. Sometimes Joe would see you grow anxious past the point of it just being a bouncy leg, and he'd leave before he was allowed to. Most of the time unseen.

He'd gotten used to the habit of turning his phone off just before he'd run off to avoid any and all contact from his team.

You never felt okay about that, always felt a bit guilty. Never wanted Joe to get in actual trouble.

But Joe didn't care. Joe just wanted to make sure that you were okay.

And thanks to him, you always were, but there was always a thought that lingered. What if this time, it wasn't going to be okay? What if this time, it was going to change everything?

You thought everything was going to change when Joe texted you, "Are you busy tonight?" and you looked around your small, dingy flat before answering,

"Other than falling asleep to bad TV and sleeping off this splitting headache, not really"

You'd just finished doing dishes and were quite literally excited to lay down on your sofa and not move for the rest of the evening.

"Sounds lush, come do that here"

Joe hadn't yet been over to your place, and you'd been weird about it that first night, so Joe had never asked to come over again. You were glad; your place was a filthy shoebox compared to Joe's home. A really grimy one, all sorts of drab, with a messy flatmate, because who the fuck could afford a flat in central London as an undergrad?

You sent Joe a pic from your position on the sofa, your legs spread out with your ankles crossed on the coffee table.

"Don't wanna move"

"Text your address again?"

Joe made that sound all kinds of casual. You'd never texted Joe your address before, and him coming over to your place was definitely not what you had planned for. You probably would've hoovered had you known earlier in the day. Now? Not a chance.

Joe'd dropped you off after a photoshoot once, so he vaguely knew whereabouts your lived, but he'd never been over.

You knew you'd hate yourself for it later. Joe had no business being in your dirty little flat. But you didn't reply with a joke, or a sly comment, or even something flirty. You just texted your address, because, actually, you really fucking wanted to snuggle up to Joe, even if that meant Joe was going to see your unhoovered flat, and maybe meet your flatmate.

When Joe entered, it was obvious to him why you needed a proper job. He didn't comment, but you could see him look, which was fine - you'd looked around his place the first time you'd seen it too. Different reasons, of course, but, whatever.

He joined you on the sofa, and tried to make polite conversation. Said he brought gin, because he knew it was your favourite, but you hardly reacted. You weren't joking before when you said you had a headache. And so Joe dropped it. Just sat next to you and was happy he got to be close.

That was all he wanted anyway. To be close.

It didn't take long before you found yourself nodding off, head bobbing, jerking itself back up every time it fell forward. You were fighting off yawns and kept rubbing your face in a weak attempt to stay awake. It was hard work, and your headache started getting worse, but you had a guest over, and it was rude to just fall asleep next to them, so you fought against all insticts until you heard a soft chuckle from Joe.

"You're allowed to sleep, you know? Come, lay down,"

And then he offered you his lap.

So much for taking things slow. Sure, you weren't about to deep throat him, but that was some close penis-to-face interaction you were about to get involved in.

But you were so tired.

And you really liked Joe.

So you moved, and scooted, and your head found Joe's lap. Four arms worked together to cover you with the throw blanket, and before you knew it, Joe's hand was patting your hair, and then a kiss got pressed into it before he sat back up.

His hand remained, and fingers raked, brushed and softly played and all of it made you fully relax. Turned you into putty. Made you melt into Joe's touch. Nothing was going to beat this. Ever.

It only took you a few seconds to drift away. To float. To hover in flight, the wind keeping you stationary. Somehow you felt yourself slipping away from Joe whilst simultatiously moving towards him more.

Joe made small comments about whatever you were watching, but his voice was a faraway thing that melted over you a little. You drifted and floated and hovered until you found yourself in this bubble where it was just warmth, comfortability and tingles from scalp scratches. Your thoughts went fuzzy, and you didn't think about how you always seemed to self-sabotage everything in your life. How you always pushed away whoever was trying to get close. In your bubble it was safe, and Joe was allowed inside, and nothing could hurt you in there, in Joe's hands.

Teetering on the edge of falling asleep, Joe noticed your breathing had become steady and slow, so he pulled his hand away, afraid that his touch would wake you back up. But the second his fingers stopped playing, you stirred, hummed, and then blindly reached behind your head to find it and place it back. It made Joe's chest swell. Made him think things, like he wanted this forever, like he wanted to kiss you. Cuddle you. Inhale you. Be close. Forever be close.

Joe was in trouble.

Trouble had found him in the form of a pretty girl and Joe was absolutely fucking gone for you.

You thought everything was going to change then, but it hadn't. Not at all, actually.

Then, you were convinced everything was going to change when, after a long day at the office, you really wanted to have a long bath. Just sit in a tub for an hour, submerged in hot bubbles that smelled like a Lush store. Except your flat didn't have a tub. Obviously, it didn't. So, you texted Joe.

"Am I allowed to come over and just sit in your bath for an hour?"

Joe read the message fast enough, but didn't reply quite as fast. So you followed up with,

"Nothing weird, just had a long day and want a bath but I don't have one 🥺"

And then Joe texted back, "Hurry up" along with a picture of his bathtub with the taps already running.

Joe pretended to be so normal about having you naked in his bath upstairs, all covered in bubbles, but it was so obvious that he absolutely wasn't normal about it, because he kept walking in with a different excuse each time.

The first time, he brought in a mug of tea and asked if you wanted music on.

The second time, he walked in with a handful of tealights which he placed around, lit, and then turned the big light off.

The third time, he walked in with a screwdriver in his hand, and he looked up at the ceiling. Like he was checking something that needed fixing.

"Joe,"

There wasn't anything that needed fixing.

"Nah, I think... I think it's fine," Joe concluded and he walked out again.

The fourth time, he did an insanely theatrical tip-toe walk over to one of the cabinets that he then started rummaging through.

"Joe, if you want to be in here, just, be in here, but be quiet, I'm trying to relax," you said with your eyes still closed.

Joe didn't need telling twice and immediately stepped closer and sat down next to the tub. When silence returned, you sighed deeply. This was nice. Baths were nice. So relaxing. The second you'd get a real job, you decided you'd start looking for a flat that had one.

You quickly grew uncomfortable, and when you opened one eye to peek, you saw it was because Joe had perched his chin on the ledge and was just, sort of staring at you all dreamily with an impossibly wide grin plastered on his face.

"What you thinking 'bout, Joey?" you closed your eye again and shifted a little to get more comfortable.

"Just," Joe sighed, "Just thinking about what I want,"

You had to fight off a smile.

"Oh yeah? Well... what do you want?"

You opened your eyes a smidge, just enough to see Joe's face, eyes half-lidded, biting both his lips into his mouth. You had an inkling where this was going, but Joe took his sweet time answering, so you raised your eyebrows in question to nudge him on.

He needed to say it.

"You."

Oh my God, he said it.

You thought everything was going to change then, when you grabbed Joe by his collar and pulled him into the bath, fully clothed, because you needed to kiss him. But it hadn't. It changed nothing at all.

And nothing changed when you noticed an impossibly long eyebrow hair, and straddled Joe on the sofa to pluck it. You groomed Joe, brushed his eyebrows up to check if there were more hairs that needed plucking, and Joe loved your focused little face all up close. He didn't love the plucking, but he loved how afterwards you kissed it better and he got to tickle you until you were under him and he got to kiss you on the sofa for a little bit.

And nothing changed when you slept over again, and Joe had woken up before you did and he was so stupidly in love, he could just stare at you for hours. He would trail fingers across your skin, down your arms, around your fingers, down your face and across your lips. Everything about you was so gorgeous, it gave him cute aggression, like he needed to sink his teeth into you.

And then, nothing changed when Joe watched you get ready to go to work after he had stayed over at yours for the first time. You were darting around the flat, from the bathroom to the kitchen, back into the bedroom where you did your make-up on the floor in front of your full length mirror and Joe was in bed still, perched up on an elbow, leaning to the side as he watched you.

"What?" you asked when you noticed he'd been looking at you apply your mascara.

"Where did you even come from?" Joe sighed, and you turned around to look at him a moment.

"The kitchen," you said dryly, and it made Joe laugh because, you had. You had come from the kitchen the first time Joe'd seen you.

Joe would sometimes still skip things. Call in with dumb excuses and his team had given up on asking him any further questions. They were glad he was attending more things than he had in a while, and let him have his moments of wanting to rest. Have nights in. Nights he spent with you.

And it was all good. Joe wasn't in trouble, and neither were you.

But then, everything changed when, on a Wednesday, Joe called you around lunch time and said, "Hey, you busy today?"

"I mean... am I ever?"

You both chuckled a little.

"Let me take you to this amazing cocktail place. You ever been to Savage Garden?"

"Oh, um... I don't know,"

"Their rooftop terrace is called the Pink Gin terrace, you're going to love it."

"Daytime drinking, Joe?" you sounded unsure.

"The view is amazing, it's right by the Tower of London. I'll pick you up in a bit!"

"Oh, but–"

You didn't get to finish your sentence and your face flushed with anxiety. Joe wasn't meant to be out daytime drinking. Joe wasn't meant to suggest you to go to a cocktail bar with you. Joe wasn't supposed to just... throw away his day like that.

But you couldn't come up with a good excuse to text him. Couldn't think of anything to get out of it. Couldn't tell him actually, no, you did have work to do, and maybe you could just... go drinking another time.

You couldn't go for drinks with Joe because Joe couldn't go for drinks with you.

You knew everything was about to change.

Everything changed when Joe picked you up.

Everything changed when you shared a cab.

Everything changed when Joe took up to the 12th floor.

And everything changed when Joe was about to have his first sip of his drink, but then, before he could, he lowered his glass as he looked over your shoulder and his face dropped.

Everything changed right in that moment, and it all changed for the worse.

"I'm so sorry," you started.

What was his fucking manager doing at the Pink Gin Terrace?

"What?"

"Joe, you need to know I never meant– it was all, it happened too fast, and then, you... I'm sorry, you need to know I'm so sorry," you rambled, and because you were pathetic like that, you started welling up.

"Alex?" Joe frowned.

"I had to let him know, you've got– ...it's your own film premier, Joe. You can't skip out on your own film premier... I–"

"Come on, Joe," Alex interupted, and he looked like a teacher who was about to give detention to a student he really liked. Didn't want to, but had to.

Joe moved his eyes from his manager over to you. From stern sort of sad eyes to apologetic guilty even sadder eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said again, wanted that ingrained into his head. Joe had to know you were so very sorry.

You tried to reach a hand, but Joe moved it out of your reach before he got up. He looked confused, but refused to make eyecontact before he started moving towards the exit.

"Thanks for your text," Alex then said to you. "I'll see you back at the office on Monday."

Then Joe snapped his head back to look at you.

Hurt.

It all imploded.

Everything changed.

The whole lot went south.

---

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[lahotelbellamuerte]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧 - !floor under construction!

series masterlist ! current: floor under construction ! next: capabilities

pairing; five x eight warnings; past memories, nothing really word count; 1.9k notes; none for this one, kinda filler, idk

left in the dark

FREEDOM IS SOMETHING that not everyone is lucky to have. The feeling and knowledge of being able to do anything is liberating, especially for Phoenix. This was after many years of learning how to use her abilities. Having everything that all the "sight" people had. 

"Get back here!" screamed a voice scrambling to run after her. 

The teen laughed as she continued to run, a hand holding a satchel with stolen books. She weaved in and out of street vendors, using the large crowd to disguise her. 

But the man hot on her heels, was unrelenting and continued with his run, "It shouldn't be that hard to catch someone Five," he muttered to himself, shrugging a little before turning to use his powers to close that gap between them. 

The blue energy zapping passed all the people until he could see the purple hair swishing. Reaching his hand, he grabbed her shoulder, pulling it towards him, gasping as he saw her face. 

Phoenix didn't blink before she turned fully and kicked him in the gut, "Can't you leave me alone?" she hissed pulling the bag closer to her and attempting to run away. 

"Oh no you don't," Five muttered and yanked on her leg and made her fall. 

Falling with a groan she turned around and kicked his face, "Go to hell!" she called out scrambling to get up again. This time taking a turn passed all the people nearby. 

Not caring about the other seeing his powers he zapped ahead of her. Smirking when she ran directly into him, "Now who are you," he asked grabbing the bag out of her hands. 

Phoenix just shook her head, "No need for you to know," she said lunging to grab the bag, holding onto the strap she could pull him and the bag. Not waiting for a second she slammed her head onto his. 

Five let the bag go to head onto his forehead, blinking rapidly he looked up just to the wisps of purple moving quickly. He groaned and shook his head, pushing himself to run after her once more. 

The girl just continued to run and didn't turn back to find out how far she would be. These books didn't even hold that much importance to the Commission, confusing her why they would send one of their top agents toward her. 

Turning street she continued, eyes and ears peeled for the sound of Five hot in her tracks. Her hands still gripping the bag tightly. Breath slightly ragged, as she moved between the busy streets. 

Now most are probably wondering, what could be so important within those books? Well, Phoenix has these recurring dreams about this man warning her of the future. But before he could tell her anything in clear detail, she never got anything in concrete detail. So, she took it into her own hands to learn about time and their timelines. 

Something she recently learned was an ability she could use. And there was no way in hell she was about to let the future get the best of her. If anything blindness has only made her see all. 

Reaching a clearing, she paused for a second before looking around her, thick woods lined her senses. This was it, all she had to do was focus and move on to a different year. 

Just before she could start to run off, she was once more body slammed into the ground. Releasing an angered huff, the girl got up to see Five once more. 

"Will you just leave me alone?!" she huffed staring him directly in the face. 

Goosebumps rose onto his skin once more as he saw the face of his wife, on this strange woman, "Just return the books to me," was all he said, knowing he would be talking to his leaders about what this was about. 

Tired of the cat-and-mouse chase, Phoenix lifted surrounding boulders into the sky and chucked them towards the young version of Five. 

His eyes widened, and he blinked quickly out of the way, barely missing the flying rocks, "Jesus Christ," he muttered, blinking once more to reach the purple-haired girl. Kicking her in the stomach and making her stumble. 

The two once more get into a fight, Five sucked in a breath, and time seemed to move slower as he narrowly missed a knife that was aimed at his neck. 

"Who are you?" was all he could get out when he grabbed her wrist to block the knife from flying at him again. 

Phoenix huffed, "None of your concern old man," she hissed dropping the knife from her hand, just to catch it with her other, bringing it swiftly to his thigh. Earing a yelp from the man, she quickly turned her body and threw him over her shoulder. Then began running once more. 

Five groaned and removed the knife, getting up with a slightly limp, "This little pest," he growled, once more picking up to chase after the girl. Blinked through space to reach up to her. 

Stopping in her tracks, she saw Five had blinked up ahead of her, now knife in hand. His thigh bleeding from her last attack. 

Five began running to her and the last second sent the knife flying. Five smirked knowing that she had nowhere to run, but it quickly fell off his face when in its place it formed into a spear. Quickly he blinked out of the way, to look next to him at a shiny spear into the ground.  

"You're insane!" he exclaimed as he blinked to punch her but she dodged it grabbing onto his arm,  and jumping to kick him with both of her feet. 

Phoenix landed softly, standing, and tried to slam his face with his heel, just for five to grab it and trip her. Now straddling her and blinked them straight back into the city. 

She pushed him off her and yelled running into him through a window of a shop. Getting up she lifted him with her, quickly punching him in the face and then stomach. 

Five groaned and tried to collect his movement, but was kicked into a glass shelf behind him. Phoenix still throwing precision punches towards him. 

The man tried to grab anything landed on a bat, and began swinging towards her. Landing a hit on her ribs, causing her to scream out, then again towards her back as she stumbled. 

Dropping to the ground, she grabbed a jump rope and was able to block one of his hits by turning the rope around his bat. She moved her knee upwards towards his stomach. And was able to throw a bat to the side. 

As she stepped back, Five didn't see it coming, until her feet came into contact with his face. She had landed a roundhouse kick towards him.

Five grabbed his face, "What the fuck, where did you learn to fight?" he muttered. 

The girl only smiled, "Don't worry about it," she said and moved to knee him in the face and knock him out. Leaving the purple-haired girl to leave at once. This time without being stopped. 

When Five woke up he didn't know where he was for a moment. That was until his eyes adjusted to the filtered lights of a window. He sighed as he looked around the blank room and the undeniable clean scent. He was in the hospital wing. 

Then his eyes landed on the young blonde sitting in the chair beside him. Seems that the "youth serum" had yet to wear off. 

"Looks like you got a beating love," she mused as she flipped the page in the book she read. 

Five rolled his eyes, "I almost had the squirt, I don't know how she got the best of me," he huffed looking up at the ceiling. 

The woman only hummed, "You are dealing with one of us, Five, she won't be easy to get." 

The man was silent and only thought of her words, that was until he realized, "Eight, I never told you anything about her," he paused to look over at her, "How do you know she's one of us?" 

Eight only put her book down to look a there husband straight in the eyes, "Do you trust me?" was the only thing she asked. 

"With my life," he responded with no hesitation. 

The blonde woman only smiled, "Good," she started, "Her name is [Redacted] a version of myself from a different universe," she paused to raise her hand, "Sorry, the only other version of me to exist." 

Five furrowed his eyebrows, "How do you know there's only one other? Shouldn't there be infinities?" 

Eight nodded, "Well usually in the case for everyone yes," she started, "But somehow when my power was born into the universe, it was split. The other half of me, being born in a whole different plane." 

"Alright I got that, but how does that make sense that she is in our timeline?" 

The blonde pat her book, "That is an ability that we share, but her's is more refined and can do it more efficiently than I can."

"Okay, now how do you know her, is the other question," He added racing to his side table to drink a glass of water that was set. 

Eight smiled at the question, "Now that is a little tricky," she said taking a breath to think, "My unique ability is to look into the future," she started not missing the choking from Five, "And Phoenix, as she likes to call herself, is a big part into what is to happen in the future. And you two have to work together along with our family."

There were so many things Eight had said to him, and yet nothing at all. What did she mean with their family? They have yet to make it back home and stop the apocalypse from happening. But here she was talking as if that was the least of her issues. Who was this Phoenix and why was she so important that his very wife didn't view her as a problem? 

"Eight what are you talking about? Shouldn't we be focusing on how to get home?" He asked still thoughts swirling in his mind. All questions he had a feeling he wouldn't get answers for. 

The blonde nodded, "Ah, yes, you're right I'm getting ahead of myself," she paused getting up, bringing her hand to his cheek with a smile, "Let's focus on getting home first," then leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Then getting up to walk towards the door.

She paused when she heard his voice, "What did you say?" he asked looking at her confused. 

Her hand on the door handle she turned, "Oh, we were just talking about what to have for dinner, silly," she said with a smile, "Just let me know." 

Five nodded and watched her go out the door. His head felt heavy, but he couldn't remember why. 

Oh, so many secrets kept from the man who would be in the center of all of it. Yet his wife kept all these secrets out of love. All of them came to her when her memory returned in 1963. Living her past, present, and future all at once. The burden of feeling all the pain, happiness, and bliss at once. A true curse.