#i wonder if hell calm down or do anything different for the other shows

[hoshifighting]

rockstar!reader x church boy & bestfriend!joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua and you had this contrast, you too embedded in the electric guitars, the polemic rock band shirts, and Joshua deeply focused on taking care of the church activities. He has no idea of the after-parties of your concerts, but after so much insistence of him, you bring Joshua to meet your wildest side, the side you never let him meet before. — Genre: Best friends to Lovers — WC: 11.05k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, slight angst, groupies showing tits references, alcohol, smoking and drug references, religious imagery—mention of a cross necklace, faith-based inner conflict. penetrative sex, rough sex, public make out, fingering, nipple play—reader have nipple piercings, face-slapping, mentions of boy fluids; cum/precum, cock riding, clit stimulation, dirty talk, post-sex care.

The neighborhood kids were a patchwork of personalities—there were the loud ones, the shy ones, the troublemakers, the saints. And then, there was you and Joshua. From the outside, it made no sense. You, the devil-may-care rebel with ripped jeans, always two seconds away from an argument with someone who couldn’t handle your attitude.

And Joshua, with his pristine shirts buttoned all the way up, soft-spoken voice, and the kind of calm that came from growing up in a house where every wall had a cross and every Sunday had a sermon. He was the kid who never missed a single morning of church, and you were the kid who never missed a single rehearsal with your rock band, banging out chords in your parents’ garage so loud the neighbors had to invest in better windows.

But here’s the thing: despite everything that set you apart, you were inseparable. You’d been friends since you were both knee-high, back when you didn’t even care about music or God or any of the other big things that defined you later. Joshua was the kid you trusted with everything. The one who’d patch up your scraped knees when you wiped out on your bike, even if you yelled at him for fussing too much. The one who never let you feel alone, even when the world felt like it was coming down around you.

You’d look at him sometimes—like now, when you two were sitting on the curb outside your house, him in one of those stiff, white shirts with the collar high enough to strangle someone, and you in your old, faded Black Sabbath tee—and wonder how the hell this worked.

“I don’t get why you always button that thing up like that,” you mutter, side-eyeing him as you light a cigarette.

Joshua looks over, raising a brow. “You sound like my mom,” he says, smirking. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“No way. You look like you’re ready to choke.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re ready to summon a demon or something in that shirt,” he fires back, glancing at the witch printed on the front of your tee. “You couldn’t find something uglier?”

You snort, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know Sabbath’s better than that crap you play.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Hey, I like Coldplay, alright? Not everything’s gotta be power chords and screaming.”

“I don’t scream,” you retort, half grinning.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not.”

“You screamed at the last gig.”

“That was—” You pause. “That was for effect.”

Joshua chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure. For ‘effect.’”

The thing is, Joshua could have roasted you to dust if he wanted to. But he never did. He’d always laugh it off, always find a way to turn the conversation into something lighter. And no matter how different you were, there was this unspoken respect between you. Like how he showed up to your gigs in high school wearing one of your band’s shirts, plastering flyers in the school hallways and sneaking some into the church bulletin board when no one was looking. 

And how you showed up at his baptism, cross necklace and all, standing there in the back, quiet but present. You never took the necklace off after that. The church boy who wouldn’t dare wear anything less than holy had given you a symbol of his faith, and you’d worn it ever since. You believed but weren't dedicated to it like Joshua, you used it because it was from him.

Joshua notices it now, the silver cross resting against your chest, slightly crooked. He reaches out, straightening it with a soft smile. “You still wear this?”

“Never took it off,” you admit, taking a long drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t mean I’m converting, though.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he replies, leaning back on his palms. “I like that you wear it.”

You glance at him, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, turning his gaze toward the sunset dipping below the houses. “It’s…nice, y’know? Like, no matter how far apart we get, we’re still connected.”

“Connected, huh?” you murmur, tapping the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You’re getting sappy again, dude.”

He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shut up. You like it.”

“Yeah, but your world’s so boring, Josh. All hymns and Jesus. You should come to the dark side more often.”

“Pass,” he says with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind it. “I’d rather keep watching you make it big as a rockstar. Somebody’s gotta pray for you when you’re out there corrupting the youth.”

Maybe that’s the thing about you and Joshua—no matter how much you rag on each other, how different your lives look on the surface, there’s a connection you can’t explain. You’re fire and he’s ice, but somehow, you keep each other balanced.

“Hey,” you say, suddenly serious, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Thanks for, y’know…showing up. For all of it. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

Joshua’s voice softens. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me too.”

You glance at him, your heart doing this weird flip in your chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, though the words come out gentler than you intended.

Joshua grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too late.”

You take another drag, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, the kind only years of friendship can create. 

You weren’t trying to change him, and he wasn’t trying to save you.

The gossipy aunts on the block could speculate all they wanted—Joshua didn’t convert you, and no, you didn’t lead Joshua down some reckless path. You two were just… you. 

He’d brought you to church bazaars, where the smell of fried dough and barbecue sauce clung to your clothes long after you’d left, but he’d never pushed you to step foot into one of the more serious services. The ones where the hymns stretched on forever and people lost themselves in prayer. You didn’t do that, and he never asked you to.

And you? Well, you dragged Joshua to your gigs. He always stood at the front, close enough to feel the vibrations from the speakers, his clean-cut figure looking hilariously out of place in the sea of ripped jeans, leather jackets, and band tees.

But no matter how much he begged—and he did beg—you never brought him to the after-parties. The kind of chaos that erupted once the amps were off and the guitars were packed up. You’d drive him home, drop him off with a playful slap on the back, and head to the wildness he’d never see.

He didn’t need to know about the after-parties. He didn’t need to see you in your shortest leather mini skirt, the one that barely passed as clothing, as you downed beer after beer straight from the bottle, while the groupies flashed their tits at the band.

Joshua didn’t need to witness the wild shit that happened when everyone was too drunk or high to care about who was screwing who in the corner or the endless river of alcohol. That wasn’t his world, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. It was one thing for him to come to your shows, but seeing you let loose in a way that would make even your bandmates blush? No. He didn’t belong there.

Except… now Joshua was sitting with you in your garage, tuning your guitar like he always did before a big show, and he’d overheard you talking about the after-party.

“It’s the ten-year gig, huh?” he said casually, fingers sliding over the strings, adjusting them with that stupid focus he always had. “Big deal.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not thinking much of it. “It’s gonna be insane.”

Joshua’s head tilted, his lips pursing slightly. You recognized that look. It was the one he got when he was curious about something, when he was too polite to ask outright but dying to know more. He glanced at you. “You doing anything after? Like, after the gig?”

You paused. Shit. You hadn’t expected him to actually ask about that part. “Uh… yeah. There’s an after-party,” you said slowly, not looking at him. You fiddled with one of the tuning pegs on your bass, trying to look busy. “Same old stuff. You know.”

“I don’t know,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve never let me go to one.”

You glanced up at him, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s ‘cause it’s not your scene, Josh.”

“I want to see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. His voice was soft, but there was a determination there you weren’t used to. He wasn’t backing down from this one. “I’ve seen you perform. Why not let me see the rest?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see the rest.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, studying you. “Why not?”

Why not? Why not? How were you supposed to explain this without getting even more flustered? You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about it. The thought of Joshua witnessing that version of you—messy, no filter—made your stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“It’s just… different, okay?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Like, the crowd’s wilder. Things get… crazy. I’m not the same up there as I am here.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and you think I can’t handle ‘crazy’?”

“You’re not getting it,” you insisted, your voice a little sharper than you meant it to be. “This isn’t just a few beers and hanging out. People get wild, Josh. There’s stuff that happens that you probably don’t want to see. Hell, I don’t want you to see it.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious right now? Joshua, the guy who got anxious if someone said a cuss word too loud around him, was asking to see the madness that was your after-party?

“Why the hell would you want to see that?” you finally asked, genuinely confused.

“Because,” he said simply, leaning forward on his knees, “I’ve always seen one side of you. The side you let me see. I wanna see the whole picture. I want to know who you are when you’re up there, when you’re with your band, when you’re… being yourself.”

You felt your heart thud hard against your chest. Shit. This wasn’t just about the party, was it? He wanted to understand you. All of you.

“I don’t know, man…” You trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. 

“I can handle it,” Joshua said, voice gentle. “I’m not a kid. I know what goes on. Just because I don’t live like that doesn’t mean I can’t handle seeing it.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He was stubborn, and you knew he wouldn’t let this go easily.

“Alright,” you finally said, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joshua smiled, wide and a little too innocent. “I’ll take my chances.”

[...]

The van sat parked in front of your house, baking in the morning sun, loaded with amps, guitars, and a drum kit that had seen better days. You were supervising the guys hauling the last of the equipment into the back, hair still wrapped in rollers, trying not to sweat through your shirt before you even made it to the venue.

And then, you saw him.

Joshua was walking up the driveway, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him. The button-up shirt, the clean-cut image you were so used to—it was all gone. Instead, he was wearing one of your shirts, and not just any shirt. 

It was from your solo album outside the band, the one with the wild, scrawling letters across the chest and the cover art below. The cover art that featured your bust, as your tits were covered by an electric guitar. Skin covered in smeared kiss marks, lips of all colors pressed against your skin in a way that had been raunchy enough to make your bandmates whistle when you first showed them.

The album cover had been controversial, to say the least, but it sold like hotcakes. And Joshua—Joshua—was strutting around in it like it was no big deal.

You almost choked on your own spit.

He had black jeans on, hugging his legs in a way you didn’t expect, and he’d thrown on a couple of leather bracelets that looked suspiciously like the ones you’d worn on stage a few times. And the sunglasses perched on his head? Definitely not his usual vibe. He looked like someone who belonged backstage, maybe even on stage, and not at some church picnic. Worse—he looked like the kind of guy you could moan just from looking at.

Your brain short-circuited. You could already imagine the girls from your staff catching sight of him and drooling. Hell, you were almost drooling.

But then you caught sight of that shirt again, and all you could think was, out of all the merch I’ve got, why the fuck did he pick that one?

“Josh…” you called out, your voice full of disbelief as he approached. You gestured at the shirt. “Did… did your parents see you before you left?”

Joshua burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? No way. My mom would’ve had a heart attack. I snuck out before they were even awake.”

You groaned, clapping your forehead. “Oh my God. You realize you’re walking around with a picture of my tits on your chest, right?”

He grinned, glancing down at the shirt like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s bold, right?”

“Bold?” you repeated, eyes wide. “It’s fucking obscene! You wearing that is obscene. Jesus, I can already hear the aunties in the neighborhood clutching their pearls.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax. No one from church is gonna be at the venue. I’m good.”

You gave him a hard look, still half in disbelief. “I’m not worried about church people, I’m worried about all the other people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

You blinked. Was he pulling it off? The more you stared at him, the more your brain started to fry. You didn’t know how to process this new Joshua—the one standing in front of you like he’d been born to wear that shirt. Born to make you lose your goddamn mind.

Joshua noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? You embarrassed?”

“I—no!” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning. “It’s just… fuck, you couldn’t pick a more normal one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, flashing a grin that was a little too cocky for your liking.

“I can already see the crew girls drooling over you.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Let ‘em drool.”

You had to laugh at that.

“You know what? Never mind,” you muttered, waving him off. “Let’s just get to the venue before I lose it.”

Joshua chuckled and followed you to the van, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard as he climbed into the passenger seat. You took one last glance at him before slamming the door shut. He was leaning back, arms crossed, looking totally at ease in a way that was both infuriating and… kind of hot. Shit.

You could feel Joshua’s presence next to you, his knee brushing yours whenever you hit a bump. It was distracting as hell, but you did your best to focus on the road, on the gig, on anything that wasn’t Joshua in that damn shirt.

The ride was filled with the usual chaos—your drummer tapping out beats on the seat in front of him, your guitarist tweaking pedal settings on the floor, and the bass player scrolling through social media, barely paying attention. Joshua sat next to you, quiet, but you could tell he was absorbing everything. The energy, the vibe. This was the part of your life he’d never seen before.

When you finally pulled up to the venue, you felt the familiar buzz of expectation in your chest. The stage crew was already setting up, speakers being wired in, lights being tested. You hopped out of the van, gesturing to the others to get moving.

Joshua followed close behind, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The venue was bigger than the high school stages he was used to seeing you on. It was packed with people running back and forth, instruments being tuned, sound checks echoing in the air.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the stage. “This is...bigger than I expected.”

“Told ‘ya,” you said, grinning as you grabbed your bass and slung it over your shoulder. “Welcome to the real deal.”

Joshua nodded, clearly impressed. You could see the awe in his face, and a part of you felt proud that he was seeing this side of your world. The chaos, the noise, the energy. It was all part of the life you lived—the one he’d never been fully exposed to.

As the band started running through sound check, Joshua found a spot near the back, watching quietly, tapping his foot along with the beat. Every once in a while, you’d glance back at him, half-expecting to see him overwhelmed, but he wasn’t. He was nodding along, sunglasses now perched on his nose, looking like he fit right in.

You could hear the low murmur of the crowd outside, getting louder as more people settled into their seats. Joshua was still talking with Rob, your drummer, which gave you just enough time to pull the rollers out of your hair and finish your makeup in front of the cracked mirror in the dressing room. You rushed through it, swiping on your signature dark lipstick, when the door creaked open, and in walked Joshua.

Of course.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes darting around the room, then finally landing on you—and your outfit. You were wearing a black, lacy top that was just sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, especially when it came to the piercing you knew he had seen before. You’d never made a big deal out of it, but every time Joshua caught a glimpse, he’d get that uncomfortable look on his face, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing something so private.

“Eyes, Joshua. Eyes,” you could almost hear him coaching himself. His gaze flickered up to your face, but it was too late—you’d caught the quick dip to your chest, to the black leather pants hugging your hips like a second skin.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly trying to act casual, but his voice came out rougher than usual. “I was, uh… just letting you know I should probably get to my seat. The crowd’s filling in.”

You smirked, finishing the last swipe of lipstick and tossing the tube onto the makeup table. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and adjusting the top slightly. “You’re not sitting in the crowd anyway.”

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion, still trying hard to maintain eye contact, which was almost comical at this point.

“You coming up for the encore,” you explained, crossing your arms. “VIP section, side-stage. Didn’t I tell you?”

Joshua blinked. “No. You didn’t mention that.”

You grinned, seeing how flustered he was, and it only made you want to push him further. “Guess I forgot.” You winked, loving the way his mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in his throat. “Go get settled. We’ll call you up when it’s time.”

He mumbled something under his breath and awkwardly nodded, backing out of the room with a half-hearted wave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath, grinning to yourself. Good luck keeping your eyes up there, church boy.

[...]

By the time you hit the stage, the crowd was electric. You could feel the vibration in your bones, the pulse of the drums and bass weaving through your body. The lights were blinding, sweat already starting to drip down your back within the first few songs. You scanned the crowd, catching sight of Joshua standing where you told him, off to the side, eyes glued to you like he’d never seen you before.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You weren’t just some girl with a guitar tonight. You were in it, the music flowing through your veins, your hands sliding over the neck of the guitar like they were made for it. The band was tight, every note hitting harder than the last, and you felt alive in a way you couldn’t describe. The crowd roared, hands reaching out as your bandmates, already stripped of their shirts, threw them into the audience like trophies.

Joshua’s eyes were wide, watching the sweat drip down your arms as your muscles flexed with every chord change. You were lost in it, mouth slightly open during one of your solos, head thrown back as you pulled the guitar into your body like it was an extension of you. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unblinking, and it only pushed you harder. You let your voice growl into the mic, letting out the kind of raw, strong energy that got you here in the first place.

His mind must’ve been racing. He’d seen you play before, but never like this. Never with this much heat, this much intensity. You weren’t just a rockstar tonight—you were a sex symbol, and every single person in that venue, including Joshua, could feel it.

It hit him then—this was why you didn’t want him to come to the after-parties. It wasn’t just about the chaos or the booze. It was because, in this space, on stage, with the lights and the music and the crowd screaming your name—you were untouchable. And so, so fucking hot.

He’d always known you were beautiful, but this? This was something else. Watching your body move in rhythm with the music, the way your fingers slid across the strings, the sweat glistening on your skin—fuck. Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every part of you was dripping with confidence, sexuality.

The crowd erupted as you launched into the final solo, the room swelling with the sound of your guitar. Joshua’s gaze lingered on your body, on the way your leather pants clung to every curve, on the sway of your hips as you moved, and on your lips, slightly parted as you leaned into the mic. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as he watched your muscles tense and release, every move planned, every note flawless.

His thoughts ran wild, and as you finished the set, throwing your head back in a final roar of victory, he couldn’t help but think, So this is what she didn’t want me to see.

The show ended in a blur of cheers and flashing lights, the energy still pulsing in your veins as you stumbled off stage, half-drunk on adrenaline. When you spotted Joshua at the back of the room, standing there with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, you couldn't help but laugh.

You walked over to him, sweat still glistening on your skin, a tired but satisfied grin on your face. “Well?” you asked, chest heaving. “What’d you think?”

Joshua blinked, forcing his gaze up from the floor to meet yours. He swallowed thickly, that guilty knot tightening in his throat. “It was… amazing,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “You were—fuck, you’re incredible up there.”

His compliment was genuine, but there was something else in his eyes. Something conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just seen. His best friend—the girl he’d known since forever—looked like this. Played like that. He felt sick about it. Sick because his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. Sick because seeing you like that—half-wild, sweaty, powerful—it wasn’t just admiration anymore.

You grinned, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Told you it was a rush.”

Before he could respond, the two of you heard the unmistakable sound of feet pounding the floor. Fans. A whole wave of them was running toward the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band before they left. You didn’t even think, just grabbed Joshua’s hand and yanked him with you, sprinting toward the van parked outside.

You were laughing as you ran, your grip tight around his wrist, and Joshua couldn’t help the way his heart raced—whether from running or from being so close to you, he didn’t know. He could hear you breathing hard, could see the wildness in your eyes. And for the first time, he got it. The thrill. The chaos. The rush that came with living your life like this.

By the time you both reached the van and slammed the door behind you, you collapsed onto the seat, letting out a long, relieved moan. Joshua just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide. He felt it now—the thrill, the electric hum in his blood. But also something else, something that made his stomach twist.

When you caught his eye and smiled that lazy, satisfied smile, he felt like he was losing his grip. You looked like a sexy mess, hair tousled, lipstick smeared, eyes sparkling. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, and it was doing things to him—dangerous things.

“The after-party’s at a club,” you said, glancing at him as the van roared to life. “Private for tonight. Just the band and our friends.”

Joshua nodded, his mouth dry. He had no idea what to expect.

[...]

The club was another world entirely.

The moment you stepped inside, Joshua was hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something that might’ve been smoke, but wasn’t just cigarettes. The bass was pounding, vibrating through the floor, and there were bodies everywhere.

The first thing he noticed was your bandmates already surrounded by a small crowd of girls—half-naked, some practically sitting in their laps. One of them was making out with the guitarist, her hand slipping under his shirt while the others just laughed, already drunk and messy.

Joshua’s throat tightened, his eyes wide as he took it all in. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were drinking, smoking, making out in dark corners, hands wandering under clothes with zero shame.

And then there was you.

You didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a drink from the bar and downing it like it was water. When you turned to face him, leaning back against the bar with your leather pants clinging to your body and your shirt barely covering anything, you were a vision. A sexy, disheveled vision, your hair a mess, lips wet from the drink, and eyes hazy from the adrenaline of the show.

You were the kind of person that people wrote songs about—the kind of person that people lost themselves over.

“You good?” you asked, voice low, almost drowned out by the music.

Joshua blinked, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” But he wasn’t. He could barely keep his head straight with everything going on around him.

You grinned, holding out your drink. “Here. This’ll help.”

He hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the glass, taking a long gulp. The burn of alcohol felt good, grounding him for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to block out the heat in his chest, the strange attraction, the strange guilt swirling inside him.

You chuckled, watching him down half the drink. “Easy there.”

Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling hard. He shook his head, swallowing again, trying to focus. But then you were close—too close—and he could smell the combination of your perfume and sweat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You were so casual about it, so relaxed in this wild mess, like you were born for it.

Joshua stared at you, watching the way your body moved with the music, the way your hips swayed slightly, your hair falling in your face. And he couldn’t help it—he wanted you. Wanted to pull you close, to taste the sweat on your skin, to feel the heat of you pressed against him.

But he couldn’t. You were his best friend. You’d been through everything together. But right now, in this moment, you weren’t just his friend. You were a fucking rockstar. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Joshua took another long drink, trying to drown the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. You watched him, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto your lips as you leaned in closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You feelin’ it now, aren’t you?” you whispered, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because yeah, he was feeling it. The rush, the heat, the want. And it was all because of you.

Someone in the crowd—a guy with a half-buttoned shirt and lazy grin—held out a blunt to Joshua, smirking. “Want a hit, man?”

Joshua froze. His mind blanked for a second. “Nah, he doesn’t smoke. Leave him alone.” The air suddenly felt too heavy, the idea of it too real. Before he could even answer, you were at his side, grabbing the guy’s hand and pushing it back with a casual laugh. “He’s too saintly for that.”

Joshua froze, the word saintly cutting through the noise. You were teasing, of course, but that single word twisted in his gut. He didn’t need you looking at him like that—like he was too pure, too clean for this world you thrived in. He hated it. Hated that you saw him like some untouched, pristine version of himself that didn’t even exist. That look you gave him, all amused and lighthearted, made his skin crawl because it only reminded him of how distant he felt from you in that moment.

You grinned at him, eyes gleaming. “Come on, Josh. You’re way too neat for this shit. Leave the bad habits to me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. The thing was—you had no idea. You saw him as the same old Joshua, the one you grew up with, the guy who kept his hands clean while you dived headfirst into the chaos. But fuck, that wasn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. You thought he was some perfect church boy who’d never done anything wild, who probably still had his V-card, for God’s sake.

If only you knew.

The way you laughed about it, as if the thought of him doing anything wild—anything sinful—was so absurd it was hilarious. And that burned. More than it should’ve.

Joshua swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but your words dug in deep. Saintly. Neat. Like you didn’t know. Like you couldn’t even imagine him doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He wasn’t clean like you thought. He’d done things—felt things—that would wipe that smirk off your face. But you… you never saw him that way. Not Joshua.

 “You’re lucky, y’know? Not everyone can pull off that whole saintly thing,” you teased, brushing a hand through your messy hair.

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he muttered under his breath. But you didn’t hear him—or maybe you didn’t care.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, the alcohol buzzing in his system, loosening up the tension in his limbs but doing nothing to calm his mind. He hated how you looked at him. Like he was too clean, too good for this world you lived in. He hated how you never saw him as anything more than “good ol’ Joshua.” The guy who had never gone off the rails, the guy who probably never even had his dick wet before.

That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. The truth gnawed at him, because you had no idea who he was outside of your little bubble. You didn’t know about the times he’d stayed up too late, desperate to cum, the fantasies he’d let himself get lost in—half of them about you, goddammit. You didn’t know about the nights he’d spent grinding against someone, hands buried in their hair, feeling the warmth of their body pressed against his, the messy nights where he lost himself entirely.

You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His breath caught. You were joking—you had to be—but something in the way you said it, so casual, so sure that he wouldn’t… it broke something in him. The club around him blurred as he focused on you, standing there all relaxed, your lips still slightly parted, that familiar teasing glint in your eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself. “You really think I’m that fucking innocent, huh?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the words cutting through the thrum of the music.

You blinked, pulling back slightly, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What? No, I just—”

“You think I’ve never been with anyone? Never had my fuckin’ cock wet before?” He didn’t care how crude it sounded. Didn’t care that it was probably the first time you’d ever heard him talk like that. He was sick of it. Sick of the version of himself you’d created in your mind.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, a compound of anger and something else you don’t even want to admit. The way he said it—rough, out of character—like he was someone else entirely. Part of you wants to slap him for it, for breaking the image of the Joshua you knew. The good one. The clean-cut guy who’d never even raise his voice, let alone tell you he wasn’t so fucking innocent. But the other part of you… it liked it. The tension, the bite in his words, the way he stood there, all riled up.

You narrow your eyes, smirking just a little.

His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. For the first time, you see his eyes darken—none of that usual light. No soft Joshua anymore. His face shifts into something harder, almost dangerous. It catches you off guard, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re playing a game you can win.

“Don’t push it,” he warns. It sends a cold lick from the beginning of your spine to the end, but you tilt your head, still smirking, testing him.

“What? Gonna do something about it?” You lean in closer, just inches from his face now, daring him. “C’mon, Joshua. Show me.”

And then it happens.

He’s on you so fast, you don’t even have time to process it. His hands grab your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, testing the waters, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden heat between you two.

His mouth crashes onto yours, rough, almost desperate, all that pent-up tension is spilling out at once. His lips are soft but demanding, like they’re asking for something, but also taking it without permission. You kiss him back just as fiercely, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, the taste of alcohol on both your breaths mixing as you struggle for control.

His hands slide down your back, grabbing your ass with a roughness that makes you gasp, and he pulls you tighter against him, grinding into you just enough to let you know exactly how turned on he is. “Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, barely pulling away to speak. You can feel the frustration, the years of him being the good one, bubbling up in every kiss, every touch.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. It’s messy, frantic, and the sound of it—the heavy breathing, the low growls coming from him, the way your lips smack together—fills the small space between you like the only thing that matters is how fast and hard you can make this happen.

And god, it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. You can feel it in the back of your mind, the thought lingering, telling you this isn’t who Joshua is. Not the guy you grew up with. But right now, he doesn’t feel like the Joshua you knew. He feels like someone who’s been hiding this side of himself for too long, someone who’s finally letting the mask slip.

And the worst part? You like it. Maybe too much.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes are almost black with craving, his chest heaving as he stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You can see it on his face—how much he wants this, how much he needs to prove to you that he’s not as clean as you think he is.

“You sure you wanna keep pushing?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and his grip on your hips tightens. “’Cause I don’t think you can handle what happens if you do.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Try me,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

And just like that, he’s on you again. This time, rougher. His mouth moves down to your neck, teeth scraping against your skin as he kisses you there, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and you feel the hard press of his cock grinding into your stomach as his hands roam over your body, touching, grabbing, pulling. He’s all over you.

You’re backed into the wall of the van now, his body trapping you there, and for a second, you think about the others. Your bandmates. The people who know Joshua—the real Joshua. You can almost feel their judgment, the silent “what the fuck” looks they’d give you if they saw this. If they saw how you’re fucking with his head, breaking him down until he’s someone else entirely.

But right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s kissing you like this, touching you like this. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. Not when he’s showing you this side of himself that you never even thought existed.

And fuck, you realize. You’ve been wrong about Joshua. So, so wrong.

And he’s not done showing you just how wrong you’ve been.

Joshua’s hands slide under your top, squeezing your waist, his thumbs teasing your skin, brushing against the underside of your boobs until they find your nipples, flicking at the piercings. The sensation makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you fold under his touch. You clutch his arm, your breath heavy against his neck, before you moan right into his ear. You feel him twitch, nearly stumbling in front of you, his control unraveling.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking it back to force his eyes on you. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you can see the hunger there, the intensity, the rawness of it. “We need to stop,” you breathe, trying to sound firm, but even to your own ears, it’s weak.

Joshua’s mouth presses back against your neck, and he mutters between kisses, each one punctuating his words. “No. You don’t. Want. To. Stop. Do. You?” His breath is hot against your skin, each word hitting you harder than the last, unraveling your willpower.

“I’m serious,” you insist, but it’s pathetic, because the way he’s touching you—like he’s memorizing every inch of your body, like he’s known this moment was coming—makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, checking if you really want to stop. His expression softens, as if he’s giving you an out. 

“We need to stop, or we’re gonna end up fucking right here in front of everyone.”

For a second, you both pause, glancing around. The crowd is still buzzing, everyone too lost in their own world to notice what’s happening between the two of you. You could, technically. You could fuck right here, and no one would bat an eye, but that last shred of morality keeps you in check, pulling you back from the edge. Barely.

Joshua was imagining just how much worse things could get. But honestly, he liked every single one of these thoughts. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you toward the club’s parking lot, and rushing toward the van.

The heavy door of the van slides shut behind you, and Joshua locks it with a rough click, sealing the two of you inside. The second the door’s closed, it’s like the floodgates open. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling, needy. He kisses you harder now, more frantic, his body pushing you against the side of the van, and your back hits the first seat with a thud.

You stumble, the both of you crashing into a pile of boxed-up instruments. Your knee hits a guitar case, his ass bump on the drum box, but neither of you care. Joshua’s hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you into him, making sure you feel every inch of him pressed against your thigh. You’re practically panting, the need between you both building, burning.

You push him back toward the last row of seats, hands fumbling at his belt as you go, your teeth grazing his jaw, his neck, tasting the sweat and the heat from the show earlier.

He moans down in his throat, a sound that rumbles through his chest and straight into yours, and you swear it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. His fingers dig into your hips as he backs into the seat, pulling you down on top of him, your legs straddling his lap, the hard press of his cock straining against his jeans beneath you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grinding against him, and his head falls back against the seat, eyes rolling shut for a second as you move. You take advantage of it, your lips finding his neck, your teeth scraping his skin just enough to make him hiss.

The leather of your pants is sticking to your skin, but you barely register it as Joshua leans down, kissing you again, his hands slipping under your top and pulling it up, exposing you. His mouth moves lower, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and then lower, until his lips are at your chest. He doesn’t hesitate—his mouth finds your nipple, and he flicks his tongue over the piercing, making you arch your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

The leather pants cling to you, slick with sweat, and you can feel every inch of them suffocating your skin. You groan in frustration, hands fumbling to yank them off. In your hurry, you knock your elbow hard against a nearby box, hissing in pain. Joshua’s hands are on you immediately, steadying you as you finally peel the damn pants down, tossing them aside like they personally offended you. He takes the opportunity to shove his own pants down to his knees, and as you glance up, he's yanking his shirt over his head.

You’re back on his lap before he even realizes what’s happening, grinding down on him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers. It’s a hell of a lot better than the rough leather, and you feel the instant response—his hands grip your thighs so hard it’s like he’s holding on for dear life, his head falling back with this breathless, whiny moan.

His fingers slide down the front of your panties, finding you soaked, and he’s instantly wrecked. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, his voice ragged, eyes dark and hungry as they lock onto yours. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

The dirty words coming from him feel so wrong, so foreign, but god, it’s making your head spin, red flags of danger flickering in your mind, and you can’t stop.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble, still grinding against his hand, but then he pushes a finger inside you, and your whole body jolts. A hand flies up, palm slamming against the fogged window for balance, leaving a print there as you rock forward, riding his thick, calloused finger.

His finger feels huge, and the stretch of it makes you dizzy. You’re thankful for the seat behind you, giving you the support you need because you’re practically sprawled back on it, grinding on his hand like your life depends on it. 

He’s watching you, eyes locked on every twitch of your face, every moan spilling from your lips, and then he slides another finger in. The stretch makes you gasp, thighs trembling as he moves them inside you, fingers curling and hitting that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

“Talk dirty to me,” he suddenly demands, voice low and gruff. 

“You… don’t like it when I curse,” you manage, barely coherent as his fingers keep moving inside you.

“Fuck that,” he growls, fingers curling deeper, making you whimper. “Call me whatever the fuck you want. Call me a motherfucker, I don’t care. Just talk to me, let me hear it.”

Your body’s trembling, eyes rolling back as you grind harder against his hand, desperate for more.

You moan, feeling his fingers pumping inside you as his thumb brushes your clit. You’re teetering on the edge, and words are spilling out before you can stop them. “God, Joshua… Always acting so pure. I bet no one would believe how fucking hard you are for me right now, huh?”

His breath stutters at your words, his fingers thrusting harder inside you. “Keep going.”

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” you gasp, rocking your hips against him, feeling that coil tightening in your belly. “You want me to ride your fingers like a fucking slut, huh?”

He groans, low and deep. "Fuck, yes”

Your body’s trembling, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the brink. “You’re such a motherfucker,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breaking. "You feel that? Feel how close I am? You're gonna make me—shit!—cum all over your fingers.”

Your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as his rough, calloused fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tense. You're whimpering, struggling to keep the dirty talk going, but it's hard to form words when every nerve in your body is on fire. "God, Joshua, your fingers... they’re so fucking big," you manage to choke out, voice shaky.

He smirks, eyes dark, watching the way your body responds to him. “If you think my fingers are big,” he breathes, thrusting them deeper, faster, “imagine how you’re gonna feel when it’s my cock inside you.”

The thought sends another wave of heat pooling between your legs, and you grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as he moves his fingers faster, relentless, pressing into your sweet spot over and over. Your walls clamp down around him, and a broken cry escapes your lips, your body trembling as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through you in a rush.

"Fuck—Joshua!" you moan, your voice high and desperate as your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tight you can barely think. Your slick coats his hand, and he watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the way your body writhes against his, chest heaving, face twisted in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and you can feel him watching you, his expression mirroring your own without even meaning to. His lips part in a quiet curse, like he’s just as lost in it as you are, completely captivated by the way you cum on his fingers, riding the digits until you curl up on him.

His fingers slip out of you, slick and shiny, leaving you empty. Your breath catches in your throat when his hand dips down to his own cock, still hard and straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. He grunts softly, shifting, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of it through the fabric—big, thick. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

He’s moving fast, lips already on you again, his mouth latching onto your nipple. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling over the metal of your piercing like he’s obsessed—after all, besides seeing it through your blouses, now he has them in his mouth. His grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, almost like he’s trying to devour you.

���Fuck, Joshua,” you rasp out, voice shaky, still buzzing from the orgasm he pulled from you with just his fingers. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He pauses for a second, teeth scraping your skin as his mouth moves up to nip at your collarbone, smirking. “What, you think just 'cause I look all neat and clean, I don’t know how to make a girl cum?” he leaves a wet hickey on your chest. “Trust me, babe, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You arch into him, head tilting back as his tongue flicks against your other nipple, but this time, he looks inside your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me… always acting like a saint.”

His hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up between your legs again, brushing against your soaked panties. He smirks against your skin. “You’re the one who’s been driving me fucking crazy. Always teasing me. You know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You’re about to reply, but his fingers are pulling at the waistband of your panties, dragging them to the side. The next thing you know, he’s pushing his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of it—he’s big, thicker than you expected, the tip already slick with precum. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder how many girls have seen this side of him, but then he’s guiding you back onto his lap, hands firm on your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the thick head of his cock brushing against your folds. The feel makes you hold your breath, the heat from his body and the sheer wrongness of it making your pulse race.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a brief second, there’s conflict there—like he’s torn between the best friend who used to crash on your couch, and the guy who's about to fuck you. He’s barely holding himself together.

He guides himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, and you can feel every stretch, every pulse of his cock as it fills you up. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as you sink down onto him, his size making your head spin. "Jesus, Joshua..." you groan, head falling forward, overwhelmed by how full you feel.

His cock feels impossibly big, filling you up completely, and for a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re even taking him.

His hands tremble slightly on your waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, a throaty moan slipping from his lips. “Fuck, this is so wrong,” he mutters, voice shaky, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re my fucking best friend, I shouldn’t be doing this—” His voice breaks off into another moan as you start to move, your hips rolling against him.

You watch him, grinning at the conflict flickering in his eyes, the way his face contorts with each movement of your hips. His best friend—the girl he’s never even crossed boundaries with—now stretched out, tight around his cock. It's almost too much for him, his mind clearly buzzing with how wrong it is, but his body craves more, needing the way you feel wrapped around him.

His moans meld with yours, louder now, whiny. "You're making me fucking lose my mind."

You lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Then lose it. Let me fuck you like no one else ever has.”

He growls low in his throat, his control slipping completely. He thrusts up into you, harder, deeper, and you moan, head falling back as your body rocks against his. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you down onto him again and again, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

You press both hands to his chest, halting his frantic thrusts, pinning him back against the seat. “Whoa, slow down,” you say, eyes locked on his as you adjust yourself, shifting until you find the angle that makes you gasp. His cock twitches inside you, and you bite back a smirk. You know you’ve got him right where you want him now.

You flick your hair to one side, leaning back a bit, and start riding him slow, dragging it out, making sure he feels every inch. His mouth opens to say something, but you change the motion, circling your hips instead, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. You scoff, half laughing, half moaning. “What? Why so quiet now?”

His hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white as he grips the leather for dear life. You know exactly what he’s doing—trying to stop himself from grabbing you too rough, like you can’t handle it. Like you don’t want him to. But you take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, his palm practically engulfing your head. You lean into his touch, biting your lip before saying it. “Slap me.”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Come on,” you grind down on him again, slower, teasing. “You’ve never slapped anyone before? Right on my face. Do it.”

He looks torn, breath hitching as you ride him harder. You can tell he’s struggling to even think straight, his stomach clenching, his abs flexing under your hands as the pleasure hits him hard. But it’s your pace that’s driving him insane, the way you bounce on his cock, taking him deep, then slowing down just enough to drag it out. He’s barely hanging on.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Fuck… I don’t—” He gasps when you clench around him on purpose, his hips flinching up into you, reflexive. His hand tightens on your jaw before he lets go, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“Shut up,” you whisper, eyes burning with challenge. “Slap me.” The way you’re looking at him, daring him, makes his heart pound in his chest. He hesitates for half a second, but when you grind down on him again, harder, his control snaps.

He slaps you, hard. Harder than he intended.

The sound of it rings out, followed by his shocked gasp. But you’re already moaning, your pussy clenching so tight around him that he almost loses it. He watches in disbelief as you react, the slap turning you on even more, your walls fluttering around his cock, soaking him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at you, wide-eyed, as you keep riding him like nothing just happened—no, like it made everything better.

Your body jerks with each bounce, the slap leaving a burning sting on your cheek, but all it does is fuel the fire between your legs. “See?” you taunt. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He groans, the sound low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re fucking insane.” His hands find your waist again, but this time he doesn’t try to hold back. He grips you tight, fingers digging into your skin as you grind against him, circling your hips just to watch his head fall back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Every time you clench down on him on purpose, his whole body flinches, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, voice ragged. “I can feel… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me like you want me to fucking break.”

You bite your lip, eyes half-lidded as you meet his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Joshua's thumb strokes the still-hot skin of your cheek where he slapped you. You bounce hard on his cock, the slap only making the tension between you snap tighter. His thumb lingers, gently caressing the mark like he’s making up for what he did, but you grin, biting your lip through the pleasure and ask for more;

“Slap me again.”

It’s the same voice you used when you asked him to push you harder on a swing—excited, impatient, full of that rush of adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed like he’s torn, but the way your pussy tightens around him makes his decision for him. His hand raises again, and this time, it lands with purpose.

Your face turns to the side from the force, cheek burning red-hot, and fuck, it burns even better than the last one. 

Your pussy tightens around him instantly, and Joshua groans. He can feel the way your body responds, how you pulse around him every time he does it. You moan, “Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again.” The whine at the end of your sentence makes his cock twitch, and it sparks something animalistic in him.

Joshua grabs your hips, lifting you just enough to pin you down on his lap, grinding his pelvis into you so deep that your vision goes hazy for a second. You roll your eyes, barely hanging on. Before you can catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto the seat, his cock never leaving you as he lays you down, spreading your legs up and grabbing the backs of your knees.

The new angle has you arching your back immediately, hands scrambling for purchase on the seat. He starts thrusting, and it’s so hard and deep you swear your body is melting into the seat. Each snap of his hips sends a sharp lock of bliss through you, his pelvis slamming into yours, and you know anyone outside can hear the van rocking, but you don’t fucking care.

You don’t care about anything except him, the way his thumb circles your clit just as he slips it down, thumb circling the base of his cock, spreading your slickness over the throbbing nerve. Your body jerks, an involuntary sob escaping your throat.

Joshua’s never seen you like this—ruined, makeup streaking down your face, thick tears rolling down your cheeks. His grin is huge, his breath ragged as he stares down at you, fucking relentless in his pace. “Aw, look at you. You’re crying on my cock,” he coos, his voice laced with sweet mockery. He presses harder on your clit, making you squirm, and he chuckles low, shaking his head. “Such a good girl, crying for me like that. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You let out a strangled gasp, your body writhing under him as you feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, everything inside you winding so tight. “Fuck,” you choke out, “Josh, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he growls, leaning down, his mouth right by your ear now. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, gonna make a mess of me?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your head tipped back as your body reaches its breaking point. His thumb circles your clit faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. You feel the coil snap inside you so hard that you almost black out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you cum, the orgasm ripping through you with inhuman intensity. 

You scream his name, tears streaming down your face as you sob through it, your body trembling violently as your release floods out of you, soaking his cock and thighs.

Joshua watches, mesmerized by how fucking ruined you are beneath him, and he leans down, whispering against your lips, “That’s right. Cry for me more, baby. Show me how good it feels. Look at you… soaking me like that, dripping all over me.”

Joshua's hips stutter, and you feel the unmistakable swell of his cock inside you, growing thicker, pulsing as he teeters on the edge. He pulls out suddenly, leaving you breathless as he grips his cock, jerking it against your slick stomach. His hand is tight, desperate, moving fast as his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths.

His moans are a mess—whiny, high-pitched, slipping from his throat like he can’t control them. He bites his bottom lip hard, but the sly little whimpers escape him anyway, each sound more desperate than the last. His abs tense, his whole body trembling above you, muscles tight as a cord about to snap. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck—” he gasps, his voice breaking as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His grip falters for a split second, and then his cock jerks hard in his hand, spilling hot ropes of cum. It spurts in thick, messy streams, splattering across your belly, sliding up toward your chest, even reaching your chin. His knees buckle slightly, and he has to grab the back of the seat in front of him to keep from collapsing, his whole body shuddering through the force of it.

He’s panting, still jerking himself through the aftershocks, and his cum keeps dripping from the tip, mixing with the sweat that’s already covering both of you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, falling to the side as your body finally gives out, utterly spent. The van feels suffocating, the air thick and humid, making it hard to breathe as the windows fog up completely now.

Joshua’s hand is still braced on the seat for support, knuckles white, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes flicker open, and when he looks down at you—covered in him, eyes heavy, body limp—you can see the disbelief, the satisfaction, and maybe even a little guilt.

But neither of you moves, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the humid silence of the van, your breaths slowly returning to something like normal.

Joshua settles into the seat next to you, staring down at you like he’s trying to make sense of everything. You both stay silent, like the weight of what just happened hasn’t fully hit yet. Neither of you moves; it's as if you need this stillness to process, to figure out what the fuck this was and where it might lead. Was it the alcohol? The adrenaline? Or maybe the tension between you two, the one you both never admitted but always felt.

He suddenly stands up, his voice breaking the silence. “Where’s your necessaire?” You barely register the question, too lost in thought, so you just point lazily toward the front of the van, your limbs too tired to follow his movements.

You hear the zipper open, the soft rustle of him digging through your things. Your legs ache from the awkward position they’re in, but before you can shift, Joshua is back beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your legs, folding them in a more comfortable position, almost cradling you. You catch his eyes as he pulls out makeup remover wipes.

He starts with your face, wiping away the tear-streaked makeup, his touch as soft as it’s ever been. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek tenderly—the same cheek he slapped earlier, his movements extra gentle now, like he’s trying to undo any mark he left.

You close your eyes, feeling his hands glide across your skin. “You’re lucky I know how to clean this up,” he teases lightly, the sound of his voice strangely comforting. “You always were a mess after shows.”

You hum, half-laughing. “You should see me after the after-parties.” The humor doesn’t land quite like it usually does; there’s something too real now, something too intimate that makes the joke feel heavy.

He uses a fresh wipe to clean the cum from your body, starting at your chin and working his way down your belly. His touch lingers, but it’s not lustful—more like he’s making sure every part of you is taken care of, like you’re something precious. “Lift your arm for me,” he says softly, and you comply, feeling the coolness of the wipe brush under your arm and along your ribs.

When he finishes, his hand slips to your necklace, the little cross with the rhinestones—one you wear mostly because of him. His fingers fiddle with it for a second, the small gesture almost grounding, like it’s pulling him back to reality. 

“You good?” he asks finally, eyes scanning your face, like he’s not sure if he went too far, if maybe you’re more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and even though you’re wrecked, there’s something warm in your chest. “I’m good.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You sure? You need anything else?”

You smirk a little, exhausted but still yourself. “Yeah, I need a nap.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, still holding your necklace. “Alright, you take that nap. I’ll watch over you.” There’s something sweet in his tone, a promise hidden in the words, something you know he means more than he’s letting on.

And as you start to drift, you can’t help but think that despite everything—despite the wild shit that just happened—Joshua is still Joshua. Sweet, caring, a little too good for this world, and somehow, still your person.

[...]

The nap you took wasn’t just any nap—it was wild, like the kind where time feels like it disappears. When you finally blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, the van’s already moving, and you hear muffled voices. Your crew is in the van now, going about their business like nothing happened. Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest, covering yourself, but you’re already dressed—the same clothes from the show.

Relief floods through you, though you’re not sure why. Then you realize where your head is resting—not on the uncomfortable seat like before, but on Joshua’s lap. His thick thighs beneath you are surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against yours.

You feel him stir beneath you, his body shifting as he wakes up too. His hand brushes against your arm, and you glance up, meeting his eyes. His hair’s a bit messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s this soft smile on his face, one that makes you feel like everything’s okay.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his hand absentmindedly stroking your arm.

“Mornin’,” you echo back, your own voice low and hoarse.

There’s a moment of quiet between you, the rest of the van oblivious to the weight of everything that passed between you two last night. You shift a little, feeling his thighs under you, and the memories flash through your head—the heat, the sex, the things you said and did. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

“You slept through everything,” he teases, his smile widening, though there’s a hint of something unspoken behind it.

You chuckle, adjusting slightly but still keeping your head on his lap. “Guess I was tired, hm?”

“Tired? You passed out,” he grins, his hand moving to gently fix your hair. “Had to dress you. Can’t have the crew thinking… well, y’know.”

Your face flushes a bit, imagining him trying to carefully dress you without waking you up. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he says, his tone playful but gentle. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you wonder what’s next, what happens after this.

You glance around at the others in the van, but it’s like they’re in their own worlds. No one’s paying attention, no one’s noticed how close the two of you are, how your head’s still in his lap, how his fingers are still brushing through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can get used to it, can't you?

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB Kings meeting their Obey Me! counterparts

A/N: I try to not pit/compare these two games against each other, but as someone who was into Obey Me! (and still is) and found out about WHB thanks to it, i need to get this out of my system.

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

The scenario is that OM!Solomon messed up some spell and made Obey Me! and What in Hell is bad? universes interconnect and our demon kings get to meet their other version. (I only included those kings that we've already met in WHB - when we get Belphie and Asmo, I might make part 2)

      ༺☆༻

Lucifer

Their meeting is the calmest and most civilised out of all of them.

They don't really talk outside of formal greeting and some polite small talk

Oh, but on the inside? OM!Lucifer is internally appalled by the amount of skin that's WHB!Lucifer showing

WHB!Lucifer is really wondering who this Diavolo guy is, since OM!Lucifer managed to mention him in their little small talk about ten times

OM!Lucifer excuses himself after some time to go make sure his brothers don't do anything stupid while meeting their counterpart

      ༺☆༻

Mammon

Oh

Oh no

This can go in two ways: OM!Mammon's ego gets absolutely crushed (there seems to be a pattern with WHB!Mammon) and just doesn't talk at all, just moping around while trying to look intimidating or he tries to get some treasures off WHB!Mammon since they're technically the same guy and he can definitely trust that he won't sell it to repay his debts

In the second case OM!Lucifer storms in and stops any of his attempts

That entertains WHB!Mammon though, and so he does give OM!Mammon some worthless (read: expensive, but not that rare) treasures

That lights up OM!Mammon's eyes and he doesn't shut up about it for the next century

      ༺☆༻

Leviathan

Well this goes even worse than the Mammons meeting

OM!Leviathan tries to keep his composure, but fails

The envy is strong in this one and some Lovecraftian horrors might get summoned

OM!Leviathan now has more reasons to put himself down, good luck OM!MC with this one

WHB!Leviathan has a hard time believing that that's him from different universe. What went wrong?

But it does make him feel better. He was worried that this other Leviathan would look better than him and beat him at one of the things he's best at

If OM!Lucifer manages to calm OM!Leviathan, they might be able to bond over their use of bathtubs, but no promises

      ༺☆༻

Beelzebub

WHB!Beelzebub expected a lot, but not this

He's not horny? He just loves to eat food so much he even eats inedible objects like pillars of buildings?

Though, he does now wonder how that tastes

OM!Beelzebub tries to not judge WHB!Beelzebub just based on looks, but can't help himself to see how thin he is. Does he even eat at all?

Also, what are those gemstones and how would they taste?

The huge word 'FEED' on WHB!Beelzebub's coat reminds him that he hasn't eaten in a while

The moment WHB!Beelzebub mentions about his hobby in cooking, OM!Beelzebub is on board and on the way to the nearest kitchen

Interestingly enough, the aphrodisiac effects don't seem to be working on OM!Beelzebub, so he just enjoys the meal, but secretly wishes it was Barbatos' cooking instead

      ༺☆༻

Satan

'What do you mean Lucifer is your father?'

These two have hard time accepting that they're technically the same demon.

WHB!Satan is disappointed. He expected someone more scary than horned chicken impersonator. What's that boa about? How do you fight angels in that?

OM!Satan tries to stay calm and not loose his temper when WHB!Satan teases his about his clothing. Somehow he manages.

WHB!Satan is surprisingly more talkative than with most demons. They're the same demon after all and therefore they face the same difficulties, no?

OM!Satan is glad to hear that his other self is favored by his people. The pain kink though? He could do without knowing that, really.

      ༺☆༻

A bonus! ^^

Barbatos

OM!Barbatos is trying to stay as calm and professional as possible, but can't help but wonder what on earth is that noose for

When he finds out it's to show loyalty for his master, he gets calmer

When he finds out that it does actually gets used for hanging, he's back to slight panic mode

WHB!Barbatos doesn't like OM!Barbatos from the beginning. How does one absorb sunlight in so much clothes? No wonder he's so pale and seemingly tired all the time.

All these gloomy colors make him sad. It's almost like this other Barbatos sucked all the color out of the room.

OM!Barbatos is appaled to find out about WHB!Barbatos' interests, but feels intrigued. If the sun ever came up in Devildom, he would try sunbathing, albeit more modestly dressed.

[starlitmelanin]

she tries to get over her crush on her childhood best friend jude by trying to set him up with other people. recipe for disaster, actually.🥴

no good deed | jude bellingham

pairing - jude x fem!reader

word count - 1.1k

warnings - none

it starts with lily.

lily is near perfect. she's smart, funny, doesn’t have the slightest clue about football — but, she’s sweet enough.

you figure, if you can get jude to fall for someone like lily, you can convince your heart to calm the hell down. you're not sure of the logic there, but it makes sense at 2 am when you're staring at the ceiling, wondering why you're such an idiot.

"hey jude," you say one evening, as he jumps to sit on your bathroom counter, while you do your skin care routine before bed. "what do you think about lily?"

he looks at you, eyebrows raised. "lily? she's cool, i guess. why?"

you try to sound casual. "i dunno, just thought you two might get along."

he shrugs. "maybe. but i'm not really looking for anything right now, you know?"

you nod, pretending like that doesn't make your heart do a stupid little flip. of course, he's not looking for anything. he's focused on his career, on being the best. it's one of the things you love about him. dammit.

but you're not one to give up easily. next, you try suggesting clara. clara, who's a bit of a wild card but has this infectious energy that you think might be good for jude. plus, she's been eyeing him for months.

"clara asked about you the other day," you say nonchalantly while you're at a party.

jude glances over at her, then back at you. "clara? really?"

"yeah. i think she likes you."

he laughs, shaking his head. "she's fun and all, but not really my type."

you swallow your frustration. "what is your type then?"

he looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs. "dunno. someone who gets me, i guess. someone i can just... be myself with."

you know he's talking about you. you know he is. but you also know he doesn't see you that way. it's like some cosmic joke.

weeks pass, and you keep trying. each time, he's polite, he's interested, but it never goes anywhere. part of you is relieved, but another part is just tired. why can't you just tell him how you feel? why are you such a coward?

one evening, you're both sitting on his couch, some mindless tv show playing in the background. you've given up on the whole setting-him-up-with-someone-else thing, and he seems to sense your frustration.

"you've been weird lately," he says, nudging you with his shoulder. "what's going on?"

you laugh, but it's hollow. "nothing. just... life."

he doesn't buy it. "come on, we've known each other forever. you can tell me."

and that's the problem, isn't it? you can't tell him. you can't tell him that every time he smiles at you, it feels like the sun is shining just for you. you can't tell him that every time he dates someone new, it feels like someone's twisting a knife in your gut. you can't tell him that you're so stupidly, hopelessly in love with him that you can't even see straight.

instead, you say, "it's just... complicated."

he looks at you for a long moment, and you wonder if maybe he knows. if maybe he's always known. but then he smiles, and it's the same smile he's given you a thousand times, and you realise he doesn't. he has no idea.

"well, whatever it is," he says, "you know i'm here for you, right?"

and that's what breaks you. because he is there for you. he's always been there for you. and you're so tired of pretending. so tired of lying to yourself.

"yeah," you whisper. "i know."

you leave early that night, making some excuse about needing to get up early. he looks disappointed, but he doesn't push. you're grateful for that.

back at home, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. you look the same as always, but everything feels different. you can't keep doing this to yourself. you can't keep tearing yourself apart for someone who will never see you the way you want him to.

so you make a decision. you're going to tell him. you're going to lay it all out, consequences be damned. you'd rather have the truth out there, even if it means losing him, than keep living this half-life.

the next day, you call him. "can we talk?"

he senses the seriousness in your tone and agrees immediately. you meet at some secluded park, the same park where you grew up together. it feels fitting, somehow.

"what's up?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

you take a deep breath. "i need to tell you something. and i need you to just... listen."

he nods, eyebrows furrowed and attentive.

"i've been in love with you," you start, your voice trembling. "for as long as i can remember. and i tried to ignore it, tried to set you up with other people, tried to do anything to stop feeling this way. but it's not working. and i can't keep pretending."

his face is unreadable, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. you brace yourself for rejection, for the inevitable awkwardness that will follow.

but then he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "you idiot," he says softly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

you blink, stunned. "what?"

he takes your hands in his, and you feel your breath hitch. "i've been in love with you too. but i thought you just saw me as a friend. i didn't want to mess things up."

you stare at him, unable to process his words. "you... what?"

he laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "yeah. all this time, i've been waiting for the right moment. i guess we're both idiots, huh?"

you laugh too, a mixture of relief and disbelief flooding through you. "i guess so."

he pulls you into a hug, and you feel like you're finally home. all the pain, all the frustration, it melts away in his arms.

"so," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "what now?"

you smile, pulling back to look at him. "now, we stop being idiots and see where this goes."

he grins, and it's like the sun is shining just for you. "sounds like a plan."

and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is going to be okay. because sometimes, the person you've been searching for has been right there all along.

[hypnos333]

Sloth + lust = Fizz

fizzarolli x Reader x asmodeus

Synopsis: Fizzarolli and Asmodeus purposed to you but only Asmodeus can announce his proposal and Fizz is upset about it

“Just in we have wonderful news for Lazy town and lust city it seems like Asmodeus purposed too the sin of sloth and united both the town and cities-” the Tv cut off with Fizz turning it off pouting as He sat next to a still sleeping you with your diamond ring on your ring finger from both him and Asmodeus.

“Lovely aren’t you supposed to be making deals today” Fizz asked shaking you gently to wake up. Making one of your eyes open as you look at him in a sleepy way.

“Hmm, nope i’ll just have Asmodeus do it” You simply said closing your eyes, Fizz thought maybe he could ask you since even if lazy you were reasonable and less busy. “Why does Asmodeus only get to announce his proposal to you but I can’t do mines publicly” Fizz bluntly ask emotional making you tiredly stare at him as he fiddle with his hands.

You tiredly reach holding his hand, “Me and Asmodeus are overlords hun, but you are different, your special but your also below us it would be a disgrace to every overload if we show up unannounced with you hun” You said reasonably 

Fizz teared up making you instantly sit up and hugged him, he nuzzled into your neck. He sobbed into you. “I-I hate us hiding, I h-hate it so much” He cried.

“Shhhh I know hun, but this isn’t permanent until we can find a right time to announce you before our wedding, I promise honey” You vowed to him kissing him all over his face.

“IM BACK WITH SOME FOOD MY LOVES” Asmodeus yelled out making you jumpy but luckily Fizz was able to calm you with a reassurance hand squeeze. You sigh tiredly before wiping Fizz tears with your sleeve. “Dry your tears hun, everything’s gonna be okay” You said before dragging him downstairs to go downstairs for food.

“Ah hello my sleeping beauty it’s nice to see you awake with your beautiful self” Asmodeus greeted you lifting you up placing kisses all over your face.

“Hello to you too my king” You mumbled before you threw yourself down from him making Fizz panic before clinging to you before you fell off the floor trying to injure yourself. They both looked at you unimpressed as you dragged yourself to get some food in your sluggish both.

“She is something else” Asmodeus bluntly said making Fizz hum in agreement as his heart was still racing from you almost getting hurt.

“Hello Fizzy, How are you?” Asmodeus asked doing the same thing to him too what he did to you.

“I’m okay” Fizzarolli said simply but with a fake smile and sadden voice. Asmodeus gave a questionable face and before he could ask his other lover you came running with baked honey garlic chicken stuffed in your mouth.

You pulled Fizz down from your lover making him try the chicken that claim “Taste better then anything else in hell” making Fizz feel better with you cheerfulness.

“Okay okay I’ll try it” He said making you silently cheer before holding the chicken up to his mouth with a fork, He bit into the chicken before chewing it.

“What did you think about it hun?” You asked

“It’s delicious baby” He answered smiling at you, Asmodeus watched you and Fizz love sickly being loving to one another. He loves days like these.

“Oh right My sleeping beauty I had handled your deals and you have a couple of good ones” Asmodeus stated making you sigh tiredly. “Now now my Beauty we both know you have no choice but to do this” Asmodeus added.

“I know but you know I don’t get nothing done” You said tiredly.

“Let’s go baby we can do it together” Fizz said cheerfully making you nod in agreement before dragging both of them into you office.

“Thank you my loves” You said kissing Fizz lips first before kissing Asmodeus lips. They both sigh in content as you turn to lead them in your beautiful office that your man’s did for you.

[vikkirosko]

Hi, I was wondering if this was okay with you. Could you do. How would hazbin hotel characters Charlie, Alistair, and angel dust react to their female lover s/o being a assassin like Yor Forger from Spy X Family. S/o has Yor's personality, strength, and style. The only difference is that s/o goes by the alias name Moon Goddess. How would hazbin hotel characters react? How would they feel? What would they say? Would they keep their S/o's secret or not?

Please note that headcanons with Angel are platonic

Partially platonic headcanons Moon Goddess

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x fem!Reader 🎶

Your relationship with Charlie was full of tenderness and care towards each other. She knew you as a caring and affectionate girl, you were a little awkward and didn't cook well, but that didn't spoil her opinion of you. However, one night Charlie woke up and found that you weren't in your bed. She started to worry and decided to go look for you. However, when she found you, her anxiety increased greatly

You were standing in the hallway, covered in blood, and your face showed no emotion. When she called your name, she saw the real panic on your face. Charlie ran up to you, fearing that you were injured, but it wasn't your blood. She took you to your room and only there asked you what happened. You understood that you couldn't hide your secret anymore. You told her that you were an assassin known as "Moon Goddess" and you've been doing this trade since you were alive

You knew you should have said this earlier, but you were afraid of how Charlie would react. You understood that after death you could start living in a different way, without killing, but you couldn't do anything else, because you've been doing it all your life. You talked about it with your head down and feeling excited, and Charlie listened to you attentively. The last thing you said before you shut up was your request to keep your secret even if she doesn't want to see you anymore

When you stopped talking, Charlie hugged you tightly, thanking you for telling her everything honestly. She promised not to tell anyone about your secret, and moreover she was not going to break off your relationship. Charlie still loved you and she was ready to help you leave the life of an assassin if you were ready for it. Although it was unexpected for her, it didn't mean that it would change her attitude towards you

🕷 Angel Dust x fem!Reader 💖

Your acquaintance with Angel happened shortly after he ended up in Hell. You were able to get along without any problems, even though you had little in common. You were kind, caring, a little naive and awkward, you didn't know how to cook at all and he didn't understand at all how you ended up in Hell. You were the one who told him about the hotel and offered to go there together, wanting to help him

You tried your best to help at the hotel and tried to convince Angel to at least try to atone for your sins. Angel was interested to find out what you were hiding, because even though you were friends, you never talked about the time when you were alive and why you went to Hell. This went on until he came into your room and saw you covered in blood, with a weapon in your hands and an absolutely cold, indifferent expression on your face. He's never seen you like this before

When you noticed him, the calmness on your face turned to fear and you hurriedly said that you could explain everything. Angel looked at you carefully while you were telling him that you were an assassin and had been doing this since you were alive. You've been doing this since you were a kid and you've never known another life. And when you were alive, and in Hell, you were known as "Moon Goddess". Upon hearing this name, Angel was surprised. He's heard of you, but he never thought that his gentle and friendly friend would turn out to be that cold-blooded assassin from the rumors. All you asked him to do was not to tell anyone about your secret

Angel's reaction was not long in coming. He smiled broadly at you and said he wouldn't tell anyone about it, since you didn't want to tell others about your work, but he asked you not to keep secrets from him anymore. You were the first person in Hell he could completely trust, to whom he opened his soul, and he hoped that you could do the same, and he, as your friend, was ready to stay close regardless of whether you killed people or not

📻 Alastor x fem!Reader 🎙

It didn't take Alastor long to realize that you were hiding something. You were a sinner, and you had been in Hell for almost as long as he had, and it was obvious that you were hiding your sins. You were kind, a little naive and clumsy, sweet, but if that was all you would not have ended up in Hell. Alastor was interested in learning about your secrets, especially since you became close. However, your secret didn't surprise him so much as it made him smile more broadly

You had another side, cold and scary, but that side only showed up when you were doing work. You were an assassin, known in Hell as "Moon Goddess", and you've been doing this job practically since your first day in Hell. Alastor was sure that you had done this before, but you tried your best to hide it and you were really good at it. You were able to hide it from everyone except him

You were sure that your secret was still with you and secretly left the hotel to do your job. You didn't know that Alastor knew everything. He noticed when you came and went, but he didn't tell you anything. He saw how you kept putting on the cute girl mask for the others, but he knew how you could be

When you came back, he noticed a small spot of blood on your cheek and carefully removed it, telling you with a familiar smile that you need to be careful. He saw a trace of fright on your face, but you both pretended that nothing had happened. Alastor wasn't going to reveal your secret, at least not yet. But now you knew that he was aware of your secret, which meant that you had to have a serious conversation

[gudfornuthin]

Hello I made a request a while back but you never got to it and that is completely okay! I understand completely being a writer myself. I was wondering if I could make a different request but not sure if you do it? It’s a request for Billy from stranger things?

Idea- Yn and Billy have been together for a few years and Billy survives when he is attacked. Ever since YN has hard time with nightmares but doesn’t tell Billy about it. And YN stays the night at his place and wakes up from a nightmare calling out for Billy and doesn’t see him in bed. Max comes in to trying to calm her down but YN thinks Billy is dead. Billy comes from outside in when he heard loud crying and shouting from his girlfriend. And he holds her telling her he is going nowhere and he is okay.

( Nickname: Baby or Babygirl ) if possible

I hope this isn’t too over barring but if so I completely understand. And won’t be upset if you turn down my request. Thank you for hearing me out my love!

Not going anywhere

Billy Hargrove x reader

A/N: so I’m back into my writing hit! I do apologise anon for taking way too long to do this, and idk if the other request ever came through, as my tumblr says I have three but it’s only showing this one. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and hopefully imma be writing a lot more from now on. Feedback is appreciated :)

The mall was in ruins. The Mind Flayer continued its rampage, smashing anything that got in its way. The group consisting of teens and adults had split up just moments ago, putting their plan into motion and hoping to pull it off. It all came down to this moment, defeating the monster and making it home safe.

Y/N hides behind a turned over table, battered and bruised with an arm that’s most definitely broken. She’s not a hero. She’s not used to this life, dealing with these nonsensical creatures. Her boyfriend and his sister are to blame for that.

Billy wasn’t the asshole play boy everyone claimed him to be. Not since they started dating. He’s soft, and kind, and cares. Sometimes too much. He’d never dreamed of dragging Y/N into this mess, but love does stupid things to a person. And she definitely wasn’t letting him go through all this alone.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she finally hears his shouts not far from her hiding place. She pops her head up slightly, and spots Billy running towards her.

“Baby?” His eyes land on her. “Oh thank god, I was wondering where the hell you were.”

Y/N stands up, moving towards him, wanting nothing more than to hold him tight and never let go. Before she has the chance to reach him, a long arm crashes through the wall, heading directly for Billy. The Mind Flayer. It pierces him in the chest, black sludge spurting from his mouth. Y/N lets out a visceral scream, falling to her knees. She looks into the eyes of her dying boyfriend, knowing there’s nothing she can do to help him.

Arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, pulling her away from the massacre before her. She turns her head, coming face to face with Billy’s sister Max, a sad expression on her face.

“Y/N?”

“He’s dead,” she replies to Max, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him. He’s fucking dead.”

“Y/N please-”

Max’s words fall on deaf ears. “No, I can’t do this.”

“Y/N, you have to wake up.”

“He’s fucking dead!”

“Y/N! Wake. Up!”

Y/N jolts up from her lying position, sweat covering her entire body, breathing heavily. Max sits in front of her, hands on her shoulders. She looks terrified.

Y/N glances to her left, the space next to her empty. She starts to panic again.

“Where’s Billy?”

“Y/N you need to calm down-”

“The Mind Flayer, it got to him.”

Max shakes her head. “Hey, he’s just gone outside to-”

Y/N pulls at her hair, more tears threatening to fall. “No, he’s dead. I just saw him die, and I couldn’t do anything.”

She continues mumbling under her breath, ignoring Max’s pleas, promising her he’s okay. She hugs her stomach, falling on her side and closing her eyes. Max tries soothing the girl, but once again nothing works. There’s only one person who can fix this, and even though Max knows he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his ‘brooding smoke session’, she thinks he’ll let it slide this once. For his girl.

***

Billy stands outside the house, shirtless, with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He’s thought about quitting, having this conversation on the daily with Y/N. She doesn’t mind too much, just hates the smell. He doesn’t smoke indoors anymore, and always has a can of body spray and a pack of mint gums on hand. For her.

He takes a final drag, when Max rushes out the house, almost toppling over him. Her face almost matches her hair, as she grabs his arm and pulls him towards the front door.

“Maxine, do you fucking mind?” He tries not to snap at her as much as he used to, but sometimes it’s hard not to. “I can’t have five minutes of me time?”

Max continues dragging him. “It’s Y/N.”

That catches his attention, as he pushes her hand off his arm and runs into the house, not bothering to ask any questions.

He makes his way to his bedroom, pushing the door open and spotting his girlfriend lying in a curled up ball on the bed, hands on her face and sobs shaking her body. He sits down next to her, hands resting on her back as he lowers his voice just so she can hear.

“Y/N, baby?”

She doesn’t respond, but her breathing slows, acknowledging his words. Billy runs his hands down to her arms, then her face, gently lifting her head. He runs his thumbs over her eyes, and she finally opens them, bloodshot and red.

“Billy?”

He kisses her briefly on the lips. “I’m here baby girl. I’m right here.”

“I thought you’d-” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but Billy can guess where it was going.

“I’m okay, see,” he kisses her again, then her cheeks, then the crown of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As if waking from a trance, Y/N throws herself at Billy, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He hugs her back, his arms snaking around her waist, pressing his face into her hair. They stay there for what seems like hours, both not realising how badly they needed comfort from each other. They were together, and that’s all that mattered.

[ash5monster01]

Hi how are you? I don't know if you are accepting requests... but if so, I would like to ask Macgyver for something

I imagine something, where the reader is jealous of Mac with Desi or Riley, and to make matters worse for the reader, one of them ends up getting hurt, and then Mac gives her his full attention? (Riley, Desi) and the reader starts to feel super insecure and super bad...

Thankss!!

first of all the fact I have a MacGyver request right now is nothing short of amazing. with the show being over for a while now the fandom has died down quite a lot and I am happy to write for him whenever. I will also be choosing Desi for this considering I’m very anti-Desi, apologies to anyone who likes her. anyways I hope you enjoy xx

Wish It Was Me

Pairing: Angus MacGyver x Fem!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, language, angst, heartache, unreciprocated feelings, fluff, happy ending (don’t worry)

Summary: After months of pretending that his behavior doesn’t bother you, you finally find yourself getting fed up and showing your heartbreak towards the boy. He uses this as an excuse to finally confront his feelings for you.

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Harboring a crush on the man your job required you to protect was a great work ethic tactic. In fact it was the best one you had yet. Obviously you’d protect anyone of the team but if something ever actually happened to Mac, you’d be more than upset. Quite possibly crushed. It was also a great tactic considering you were very well trained at keeping your emotions intact which meant not once had you given up the fact you had any feelings for the blonde boy at all. It was simple actually, pine for him when you were alone and protect him when you were together. Always at his 6, gun pointed and loaded. A team always and forever.

That is until Desi Nguyen came along.

Not only is she just as good as you at combat but she was also getting closer to the team and you despised that. Feelings of replacement and jealousy filling you which made you angry for experiencing such emotions at all. It started to get worse when you noticed how close Mac was getting to her. Hell when she first showed up she had caught him leaving the shower and she hadn’t been shameless about it at all. You were the only one to successfully pass her test and she acted like because of that, the two of you were friends. That made it even worse.

It started with him laughing at her jokes, then it was grabbing a coffee after work, and pretty soon it was slight touches in passing, barely noticeable, but there. It was driving you up a wall, yet you’d never show it. Not only was Mac completely clueless but Riley and Bozer as well. So when you find yourself particularly angry for being sent in the field with Mac and Desi, no one seems to pay no mind because you are a shell of stoic. Untouched by silly and childish feelings of crushes and love. You wonder if there is possibly anything that could break your cool and calm structure.

“Y/N, I need you for a minute” your heart stutters, wishing he meant it in a different way, some other way. Yet you obey, not even a glimmer of hope shining as you look in his eyes. “Hold this wire for me please”

“Better hurry guys, we’re gonna have guests soon” Desi speaks, still on guard for any unwanted visitors. You slide your gun in the holster, allowing her to cover you both as you hold the wire like Mac asked.

“Please tell me this will only blow up the bad guys and not us” you tell Mac, a sly smile on your face and he chuckles, his hand twisting with his Swiss army knife as he works on something you can’t possibly comprehend.

“I’m not making any promises” he tells you and you fight the grin that wants to crawl across your face. You want to smile at him like he hung the stars but your job was to protect, not love. Even if you wanted to you’d be afraid of doing it for competition now, even if you didn’t know how Mac felt about Desi you knew she liked him.

That point is proven when you’re interrupted by the heavy footsteps of three men. A shot is let off in the air before you have time to register that the shot was heading for Mac. Desi does her job which is the same as yours, stepping in front of the bullet, and letting it knock her to the ground. You don’t have time to think about it, you move on command, years of skill practically motorized into your being. Your gun is out your holster in seconds and you’ve shot all three men to the ground before anyone can think about it. It’s what you were built for.

“Shit Desi, are you okay?” it’s Mac’s voice that pulls you from combat mode. You turn to find he has taken position over her fallen form, both her hands and his own holding her wound tightly as she bleeds from her torso.

“Been better Mac” she tells him, voice straining like she’s clearly in pain. You see it in his eyes though. It’s what keeps you from rushing to her side as well. It was there all along and maybe he was just as good at hiding it as you or you were denial. He’s looking at her the way you would’ve looked at him if he was the one laying on that ground.

“Matty, we’re gonna need an exfil location stat. Desi has been shot” you call over on your comm’s and the worried voices from the other team members seem to make you sadder. Feeling abandoned by your team and guilty for allowing such personal feelings to make you seem so cold towards a girl who had never done anything wrong to you.

“Alright, hang in there Des. We’ll get you out of here” it’s the nickname that comes from his mouth that makes bile rise to your throat but when he cradled the girl in his arms it’s something else entirely. Pain worse than you’ve faced in the field sears through you and when Mac looks up at you, you decide it’s time to accept that this is your life now. Him and her. The real team.

What you don’t know is that Mac see’s it. The pain, it’s written clear as day across your face. It startled him for a moment because you never give anything up. A statue of a person and to see you seem so dejected is heartbreaking in a way he can’t comprehend. He knows it’s not worry for Desi, he’s sure that is inside of you somewhere, but the pain written across your face is one of longing. After months of wishing you’d reciprocate any feelings for him at all he realizes they were always there, just under the surface.

Matty pulled off an emergency extract quickly, and thankfully the debrief was quick due to worry of Desi’s condition. Everyone can tell you’re defeated, more than likely thinking it was from an unsuccessful mission. You let them, and go to your rented room in Mac’s home. For the first time in months wishing you didn’t live there. Thankful Bozer and Mac stayed back you pour yourself a heavy glass of wine, find yourself in a warm shower, and then curled on your bed in some pajamas with a book. You’re four glasses of wine deep and halfway through the book when you hear the front door open and close.

“I’m home” is called out. Mac who had been with Desi all this time. Bozer had come home hours ago, and was more than likely asleep. For the first time in a while you wished you had shut your bedroom door to avoid him, have a good night sleep in before you had to deal.

“Hey, you’re up” he’s in your doorway in seconds. You feel yourself sitting up and removing the reading glasses from your face. Mac always finds it odd seeing you like this. Curled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, the smell of fresh wine and a vanilla candle, silk sleep sets laid across your skin, hair piled high on your head. You were so soft compared to the girl in the field. The same girl he watched take down three men in lightning speed today. Now somehow you were in bed with a book. Weird how the world worked.

“Not really tired, is um. Is Desi okay?” you feel bad for not showing much interest in her well being. You just needed some time to think, some time to regain your composure.

“Last I checked yeah, I haven’t seen her for a couple of hours” he admits as he walks in. As he sits at the end of your bed you realize this isn’t uncommon. You two are still friends. No matter what you realized today.

“I thought you were with her?” you give him a puzzled look and he shrugs.

“I was, yeah. Then once I knew she was stable I went back to the Phoenix to fill out a mission report. Then Matty took advantage and got me to catch up on paperwork I’d been avoiding for a while” you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes your lips. Mac was a professional at avoiding the paperwork part of his job but every once in a while Matty could get her way.

“That’s on you for going back” you tell him and he chuckles along with you, head nodding.

“Could I ask you something?” he says once the laughter has quieted down and you find yourself getting exceptionally nervous. He can’t tell.

“Always Mac, it’s kinda my job” you tease which is true. When you were hired at the Phoenix Foundation it was literally to protect Mac in the field. You were pretty sure his name is in your exact job description.

“You’re not on the clock” he says which in a way was true but not really. It wasn’t uncommon for threats to breach your shared home, the minute that happens you’ll be protecting him then too.

“MacGyver, get to the question” you tell him even though you’d rather he walk out and never ask you any questions ever.

“Today you looked, well you never usually look like anything. But today you looked hurt, dare I say heartbroken” and you feel all the air sucked out of the room because you had shown emotions past your exterior and Mac had seen them.

“I don’t know what you mean” but you couldn’t look him in the eyes and he knew. He knew it deep in his bones.

“Look Y/N, maybe I could be wrong. That it was all just concern but if you feel anything for me the way I feel for you than that look was so much more than that” his words almost didn’t register. Your heart caught them before your head did. It was ramming against your rib cage and your head was snapping towards him because MacGyver of all people just admitted to having feelings for you.

“Feel for me?” you questioned quietly, your eyes locking on his own blue ones. You had seen Mac serious about many things before but somehow this seemed like more.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? Of course I have feelings for you. I spend all of my time with you considering we work and live together. On top of that you are always taking care of me and are the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I was in love with you within a month of knowing you. Jack would always tease me about it” a small squeak left your throat at his confession. Wondering how you had never seen it before.

“Jack knew?” maybe it wasn’t the best question at the moment, but since Jack had passed it was hard to bring him up. Knowing he had passed away and there were things none of you guys got to tell him.

“Yeah, I always promised him I’d tell you how I felt one day and every day since he passed I’ve been breaking that promise more and more. So here I am not breaking it” he told you, a hand running wildly through his hair.

“What about Desi?” you wanted to make sure, needed to make sure.

“She’s just a friend. Most of the time I just flirted with her to get a reaction out of you” this was the most shocking of all. You’d expected him to say he had gained feelings for her too, but now as he sat at the end of your bed staring back at you with hopeful eyes you realized this was never the case.

“So it’s me?” you asked and a smile cracked across his face, a deep chuckle coming out as he dropped his head. His soft blonde locks dangling in front of his eyes.

“Yes Y/N. It’s always been you” he told you once he looked back up, and finally you allowed a real smile to cross your face.

“Well this is a first” you chuckled, hand reaching to grab your glass of wine. You gulped back the last sip and abandoned the empty glass, him watching you closely.

“What is?” he asked once you seemed to have your head straight.

“Having someone return the same feelings I have for them. I mean it usually never happens because I save face when it comes to emotions but here we are. You and me. In my room. Being adult and admitting things like attraction” you blabbered lightly and Mac laughed, a wide grin on his face. You suddenly had the urge to grab hold of the deep red shirt he had on, it matching the color of wine on your lips.

“So you’re admitting you like me too?” he asked and you just rolled your eyes before shoving your book out of your lap.

“Shut up and kiss me MacGyver” and he wasted no time, a devious grin crawling across his face as he moved to climb over to you. The anticipation of him getting closer seemed to take forever but finally he was face to face, arms locked on either side of you, and you took a moment to inspect every inch of him. “I have good taste”

“I do too” and then he was closing the gap between you both. Lips slotting gently against your own. His mouth was warm and soft, much different from his calloused hands. Your fingers tangled in his hair, mussing it around. Kissing him was like taking in a breath of fresh hair and pretty soon his tongue was dipping your mouth, tasting the wine left behind from your leisure afternoon. Tangling your tongue with his own you realize you could stay like this forever, just the two of you, in this room.

“It’s so not fair” you said once you broke apart, foreheads pressed together and heavy breaths panting out of both of you.

“What’s that doll?” he asked and you sighed.

“You’re good at everything else, you can’t be good at that too” and he was laughing, arms wrapping around you as he rolled over and pulled you on top of him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you what else I’m good at too”

[ragingbookdragon]

The sight is typically considered a blessing. To see what the one your soul is tied to sees? There were some amazing stories in the history books. Yet, they rarely covered the ones where your sight was met with pain, grief, and sorrow. Yours was. Colored red like your soulmate’s father’s hands, pulling away from the face of an obvious child who long ago learned how not to cry in front of the man. The sight began to give you nightmares. Whatever your soulmate did for a living, he was met with the hands of evil. Not once in his life did he ever seemingly know peace.

You wondered if you would ever see a moment of happiness. Sometimes, there was a semblance of calm. Usually, it was moments before whatever storm he dove headfirst into, but your hearts aligned, beating in one, and you knew he felt a solace in violence.

As the years grew, so did the violence, however, you saw fewer moments of hell through his eyes. It gave you some moment of relief to know he wasn’t in the hands of some evil anymore. He spent a lot of time looking up at the stars though. And in the dark. Alone. Quiet. He didn’t speak much. You learned he was a man who had little to say and much more to do. He stopped showing gruesomeness. His sight became so much softer for you. Laughter peeling from his friends, words on pages, every day, mundane life. You knew he was a man who underneath all his obvious solemnity, was simply a man who longed for a normal life. You wondered if things would’ve been different had you met as children.

Some never met their soulmates. Some spent a lifetime searching for a love that never found them. Yours seemed to be blessed. Somehow the same city had come into view. The same landmarks. The same sky. You knew where he was. You wondered if he knew where you were.

***

It happened in the hall on base. Sleep hadn’t come to you the night before and you were dragging yourself back to your quarters after training. The new squad you were being conditioned for was ruthless. Survival of the fittest, the strongest, the mentally tough. Somehow, you’d managed to last longer than most did in the first five weeks. Twelve more to go, and your battalion had dropped from fifty recruits to twenty-three; you wondered who was going to stand in the end and be the newest members of the one-four-one.

It's when you blinked, overcome by the familiar fuzzy sensation in your vision, and saw your own head tipped down, walking towards yourself. Your head snapped up, eyes wide as you met the steely gaze of your Lieutenant; “Ghost,” they called him, and you had seen firsthand why. No words left your flapping mouth, all traces of weariness gone as you two stared at each other, one in shock, the other calm.

“It’s…it’s you.” It sounded so fucking cliché to say it, but what else could you say?

All the sudden you remembered how cold and distant this man acted to almost everyone, and you readied yourself for some type of negative words, damning you and your bond with him, anything, and yet, he simply guided you into an empty conference room and laid a warm hand against your cheek; you never knew such hands could be so gentle.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. You knew what it meant; he was sorry for all the things you had to see for the last thirty years. The pain, the torture, the grief, the brokenness.

Soldiers weren’t supposed to cry, but you couldn’t help the tears welling in your eyes as you shut yours and leaned into his hand; his thumb brushed the tears dripping down from your eye.

“I never would’ve wished my sight on you. On anyone.” He sounded so defeated, not elated like most were when they met their other half. “I’m sorry you’ve only ever seen fighting in my eyes.”

You shook your head and opened your eyes, taking in the masked man before you. “I tried to show you love through mine all these years so we would both be loved enough. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to save you from your fights.”

His eyes showed a softness, maybe he was smiling underneath his mask; his hand left your cheek, arm wrapping around your neck as he gently pulled you into him. “S’alright love,” he murmured. “I’m glad you never had to see my fights in person. Through my eyes was more than damaging.”

You pull back enough to look up at him. “Was the sight in mine…?”

“It was enough,” he said, and met your gaze. “It’s…always, been enough for me.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for you though. You’ve seen my life. You know it all.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be happy. With…with me.”

You feel a sense of longing in his voice, but at the same time, you know he’s offering you an out. Giving you the chance to walk away. You don’t take it.

“I’ve spent my entire life seeing yours, Lieutenant. I want to see it together now.” You cut him off before he can even say it. “I’m prepared for wherever this life takes us. I’ve always been there for you, and you for me. I won’t change it now. I’ll see it until the end of our days.”

You see yourself now, there’s a relief flooding your veins from his sight. For once in his life, you now know, that this broken man, has met a moment of peace.

[mayashesfly]

Some thoughts I have about the differences of my Forgotten Radio AU and Canon. (Mostly focused on Vox since he's my favorite character despite this being a SilentStatic AU. Unfortunately I'm not well-versed at writing Alastor's character even if I wanted to :')

After calming down Valentino's tantrum just like in Canon, Val tried to rile up Vox by mentioning Alastor. However, since Vox has already wiped his memories and added some… preventive measures, he merely dismissed Val's comments.

But because the Princess of Hell was involved, Vox still brought more spy drones onto the Hazbin Hotel to monitor the happenings there in addition to the drone Valentino already sent in to inform him.

They didn't bring Sir Pentious or someone else to spy on the Hazbin Hotel for them because of this.

Sir Pentious takes some time recuperating after being Team Rocketed by Alastor before he'll eventually strike again on the hotel again.

Ever since Alastor's return and seeing the remnants of his partnership with Vox first things first since he returned (The Radio sHack in the Pilot), he was bidding his time for Vox to get wind of his return and react explosively in some way for his entertainment and to take advantage of.

However Vox didn't do anything of the sorts. Unlike how he would've reacted otherwise if he still retained his memories.

When Alastor caught sight of the painfully obvious Vox drones around the hotel, he purposefully posed in front of them a few times, hoping to finally gloat out the tv-headed demon from his hiding. Much to his growing annoyance and confusion though, nothing happened as the drones flew passed him due to the corrupting footage in order to clearly see what else was happening in the hotel.

He did this for a few times a day in slowly increasing frequency for the entire week before Sir Pentious attacked the hotel again and proceeded to get fucked over for ruining Alastor's coat. Alastor barely letting the poor demon alive thanks to Charlie's pleas.

Vox and Velvette discussed to one another who should be the one to attend the Overlord meeting. Valentino is forever banned from attending any of these things after a particular incident that the Vees would rather not repeat again.

It took some back and forth between the two of them before they agreed on Vox going to the meeting. But the only reason Vox's head wasn't ripped out like the torn up models Valentino so gracefully provided her is because she has a big fashion show incoming and those fucking models aren't going to dress themselves.

"Seriously Vox are you sure you don't have anything better to do? Like that bullshit Angelic Security of yours?" "Carmilla would be there. Which is all the more reason for me to go there myself" "Just don't forget the plan you flat-faced fuck, who knows what would happen if we screw this up?" "Well someone else could get screwed instead~"

Groan

"Shut up Valentino! I'm being serious!" "Who says I wasn't being serious too, Velvette~?"

"GUYS"

"You have nothing to worry about. I have this all handled, just trust me alright?" "Well you better keep your words Vox, cuz I have a show to run and no time for a shitshow to fix" "That's my boy~"

After Alastor's wonderful talk with Zestial, he finally meets Vox again outside of the meeting room. Being on time for the meeting unlike Velvette.

Vox introduced himself to Alastor, thinking he was a new Overlord because he never saw him before. Much to Alastor's slowly growing frustration and realization.

Thankfully, Rosie took note of Alastor's presence and promptly lead him away from Vox before he tore out the other's head before the meeting started. Being able to catch up with him and tell him to visit her in Cannibal Town sometime.

Upon taking his seat besides Rosie, Alastor makes a comment about his reappearance, hoping that it would distract him from whatever the fuck Vox was on. Unfortunately, just like in canon, Carmilla does not give a shit. Causing Alastor to steam in his frustration.

While whispering quietly, Rosie admits to Alastor that she doesn't exactly know what happened to Vox. But three years into his absence, something about Vox has changed when he was suddenly more active after three years of mostly being inactive.

It only makes Alastor's head swim in confusion and possibilities of what might've happened.

Unlike Velvette who instantly hijacked the meeting upon entering, Vox waited for the perfect opportunity to present the information he had about the Angel's death. He first showed the scene of the crime on the screen Carmilla was using in her presentation before bringing out the literal Angel's head once he was questioned about the credibility of his source.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't bring the entire body with me. But surely this is enough evidence to show you that what that screen is showing isn't faked?"

Alastor became curious and impressed by such information. It was a rather valuable information he could use for himself after all... Perhaps finally having something for the Princess...

Though it didn't completely ease the discomfort he had from Vox's strange behavior. Vox was barely glancing his way, if at all, during the entire meeting when used to feel those stolen glances from him, even after their partnership ended and he had teamed up with that disgusting pompous moth instead.

His gaze never failed to land on him one way or another before.

Unlike now.

Vox still pitches a similar idea to Velvette with a bit more professionalism, noticing the odd reaction Carmilla had upon seeing the golden blood stain the table. But saying nothing of it as a musical number rolled around.

The complete details and differences between this AU and Canon's Overlord Meeting eludes me since there's a lot of character dynamics at play. But the meeting does end up much shorter than usual as Vox tries to casually take his leave, if not a bit annoyed by the words thrown his way.

That was the very first time Alastor saw Vox fight someone else for once. Except for him.

But regardless of his feelings on the matter, he has a sneaking suspicion that Carmilla may know something even when Vox said nothing of the sorts.

Without Sir Pentious and thus the Egg Boiz in the picture, Alastor couldn't easily eavesdrop on Carmilla and Zestial without possibly outing himself as the eavesdropper.

And unfortunately for him, he couldn't hide in his shadows in Carmilla's office to hear the information straight from the Overlord's mouth.

Vox never said his suspicions about Carmilla's involvement during the meeting, however he did say it to the other Vees about his findings and suspicions. Perhaps that private meeting with Carmilla would yield more results than just for Angelic Securities after all.

Time passed and Alastor was utterly bored. There wasn't as much development between his thralls and Angel Dust's relationship ever since he joined the hotel. They have already tried "trust falls" and "show and tell with the group" and whatever else nonsense the Princess had thought about. But nothing of interesting was happening.

He never caught wind of the TV demon as well besides his usual drivel despite seeing the bumbling drones around the hotel.

It was strange, knowing that his rival didn't give him any mind unlike before. And it was just making him inch for a bloodcurdling fight to ease his boredom.

It was only during a traumatic experience in the middle of a turf war did his thralls and Angel Dust bond.

Much to Sir Pentious' misfortune, he just had to attack the hotel while Alastor was in a bad mood about Vox, the dear Princess nowhere in sight.

And well…. he still very clearly remembers Sir Pentious now after he ruined his best coat.

[zoeykallus]

Rex x F!Reader One-Shot - My Love

Warnings: Hurt/Mention Of Depression/Comfort/Fluff/Slightly Suggestive

AC: I just read a post from a mutual(?) here on tumblr, dated back a few days ago. It was so relatable, and I felt bad for not being able to really do much for her, but I didn't want to impose either. So I just wrote this, maybe she reads it, maybe not. Let's say I just leave this here for anyone who needs it, in hopes that it helps a little.

I know guys, I still have to work on many requests, I just felt like I should do this. Don't worry, I get back to working on your requests.

It's one of those days. Lack of motivation, feeling alone in the world, depression kicking your ass again. It feels like you're sitting in a deep, dark hole and somewhere far above, there's some light, and it's unreachable far away. To make matters worse, you've barely gotten to see Rex in the last few months, always just glimpses, barely time to really talk, let alone do anything else. Your fingers play with the pendant on the leather band you wear around your neck. Rex brought it back for you from one of his missions. A colorful reflective stone, blessed by a tribe of an alien planet on which he had been stationed for a time. Supposedly, this thing brings good luck, but lately you haven't been feeling much of it. You're supposed to be off today, but you're sitting in the canteen, your eyes wandering around the many familiar faces, hoping to find comfort in them, to create something like an illusion of Rex's presence. But it doesn't work, all you feel is this dull pressure in your chest, this heaviness in your limbs. You breathe in and out slowly, paying close attention to your breathing, trying to calm yourself, to find comfort in the regularity of your air intake. But your hand clenches around the stone on the leather band. Frustration joins all the other negative feelings.

A deep, soft voice behind you says, "What a sight for my weary eyes". You almost jump out of your skin in shock when you hear Rex. He steps around the table and sits down opposite to you. In public, you can't show your intimacy, your relationship, especially not here. Rex smiles, but his gaze becomes thoughtful, probing. "Rex?" you say softly, as if you're not sure if you're awake or dreaming. Rex's expression softens a bit as he says, "I've been looking all over for you. Today's your day off. What are you doing here?" You don't really know what to answer, you want to fall into his arms, you want to feel his warmth. But right now all you can do is look at him and talk to him in a whisper.

"You are really here" His brows go up in concern, and he says, "Meet me at the intersection of hangar B2 and B1, in five minutes." You look at him questioningly, but nod. You lack the energy to disagree. As Rex gets up and leaves the canteen, you look after him. Hell, you even love the way he walks, so upright, powerful, with a masculine, military elegance. And yet he walks differently than most of his brothers, but maybe you're just imagining it. Either way, Rex is special.

You wait a moment before getting up and slowly making your way. You wonder what he is up to, why he wants to meet you there. In fact, you'd much rather go home with him, really enjoy some time with him, but maybe he wouldn't be here for long again. You arrive at the intersection and look around, no Rex in sight. But someone grabs your shoulder and pulls you back. You don't even have time for a surprised exclamation, a gloved hand is immediately on your mouth. You are pulled into a storage room, the door slams shut. Before panic can really rise in you, you're spun around and looking into Rex's face. "What the hell-" He interrupts you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. He has his arm and breastplate off, you can feel his warm body directly through the fabric of his Blacks. You can't help it, a heavy, drawn-out sigh crosses your lips. It feels like something is escaping from you, something very dark. It's clutching, even on its way out of you, tears painful grooves as it tries to desperately claw its way back in, as if it is alive and aware, trying to hold on to you.

A slight tremor goes through your body as your weakened state of mind fights back with the last of its strength and, with the support of Rex's embrace, finally driving the sinister monster away. At first, you're completely stiff, every muscle taut, then it feels like you're going to slump, but Rex holds you upright in his embrace. Your arms eventually wrap around him as well, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks at his back. You take long, deep breaths, taking in his closeness, the warmth of his body against yours. Tears well up in your eyes, you're not yet sure if it's relief or frustration, maybe both. He emphasizes his embrace and hums softly, "It's okay, don't hold back, let it out." You blink and the first tears fall, a quiet sob. Rex gently cradles you in his embrace. "Oh my darling, I've been gone so long, barely had time for you. I wish I could have been here sooner," he says in a husky voice. "Me too," you say softly, barely more than a trembling whisper. He coos tenderly as he turns gentle circles on your back with his hand, "But now I'm here for you. I have a few days off, finally. And I plan to spend every free second with you."

Another sob comes out of your throat, now you know, it's definitely relief. "Can we go home?" you ask him quietly. "Of course," he says immediately, explaining, "I just wanted to meet you here because I felt that you needed this moment, as soon as possible." You smile, even laugh softly, once again amazed at how empathetic this man can be. "You were absolutely right," you admit. Very slowly, he loosens the embrace, wipes the tears from your face, and finally holds your head gently between his hands to look at you. "You always seem to forget how much passion and fire you have in you, how much creativity. But I don't mind to keep reminding you“, he laughs softly, “I missed this sight, these eyes that know me so well,"

"I missed you too, more than I can put into words," you say and close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands through the fabric of his gloves on your cheeks. When you open them again your eyes are full of fresh fire, there it is again the spark Rex fell in love with. The real you. He gives you strength, hope, love. He grins at you and you grin back. "There she is, my Love," he says with satisfaction.

The surging energy inside you tingles through your nerves, your imagination, your longings, your desire. Almost breathlessly, you say, "I want to go home with you, now. I want to cuddle with you, talk to you, make love to you for hours, just about anything you can imagine." The corner of Rex's mouth twitches upward saucily as he says, "I can imagine a lot of things, beautiful. You go ahead, I'll catch up with you as soon as I can". You're on your way home so fast, full of energy, fired up, full of anticipation. Rex is like the purest premium gasoline for your engine. The anticipation tingles under your skin, you suddenly have so much extra energy that you run up and down while waiting for him in your apartment.

His knock on the door is answered immediately, so quickly that he looks at you in surprise, but his surprise quickly turns into a smirk. "You must have been waiting for me," he says and steals a kiss, teasing, nibbling your lower lip, flicking his tongue playfully against yours, tickling the corner of your mouth before granting you a shit eating grin. Like a blissfully warm summer rain, the sensation of this touch shudders through your neural pathways, from the crown of your head to your toes and back up again, until suddenly it seems to bundle in the heat between your thighs. You feel his energy, his desire, he's as ravenous as you are. You feel his strong hands on your hips as he gently but firmly pushes you further and further toward the bedroom with each kiss. "I think", says Rex between two kisses, "once we go into that room, we're not getting out of there anytime soon". You giggle into the kiss, unable to help yourself. He leans his head back a bit and looks at you with a smirk and asks, "You don't mind, do you?" "Not at all"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

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@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

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@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

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@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

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@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

[baenyth]

First Half of Miraculous Season 2 Done. Here's my thoughts:

The Collector: A pretty good start! They made the teens smart while still being dumb teens!

Despair Bear: Chloe needs a therapist, arguably moreso than a redemption arc and especially a downward villainous spiral. Also Dangit Grandpa

Prime Queen: Wow, this was a lot more chill than expected. Even Cat Noir was left aghast at what Nadja was doing, Nadja seemed to be pressuring Ladybug and Cat Noir more for views than anything else, and I'm not entirely sure Akuma personalities can be trusted.

Befana: Fun fact: This was the episode that got me into Miraculous in the first place because of how shocking it was. And then I discovered even more. In hindsight from watching the other episodes, it was relatively darker, but mostly because it's Marinette's friends and family that are getting G-rated killed instead of random civilians like every other episode.

Riposte: Kagami is here! I don't see too much chemistry with her and Adrien yet, but she's cool and I like her and feel like I could be friends in real life. Also this feels like a relatively uncommon trope, but I wish "X is blatantly a woman but no one notices" was spedran through by someone with brains.

Robustus: Pretty good, all things considered. From what I've heard about Miraculous lore, creating sapient or at the very least semi-sapient AI isn't that uncommon for weirdness hotspots, and I'm putting Max in the list of characters I think should have figured out Ladybug and Cat Noir's identity. (There's four now!)

Gigantitan: It turns out my favorite parts of Miraculous are the slice-of-life bits instead of the superhero bits the show is about! We got to see more of Marinette's friends! Alix! Mylene! Julie! The Eeby Deeby herself! Also it was really sweet to see Adrien's bodyguard calm down just by looking at the kid. Adrien's true daddy.

Dark Owl: No wonder these two aren't allowed to know eachothers' identities, considering how much of a loose tongue Marinette has!

Glaciator: Alright, it's finally time to talk about the sins of Marinette and Cat Noir, considering the fan content I osmosed before watching the series was heavy salt stuff, and I wanna see how much it holds up. So far Cat Noir has acted as if he's already dating Ladybug previously, and in this episode he got mad at Ladybug for not showing up at a date when she herself said she might not come due to having other plans. Isn't he supposed to be used to not-showing-up disappointment as Adrien due to his dad? Is it different because he's Cat Noir? Is this a breaking point? No matter, he eventually calms down and is ultimately the less bad member of the relationship. Marinette, meanwhile, doesn't have as many misdemeanors to her name but they're a lot worse. She stole Adrien's phone to get rid of an embarrassing message and got away with it too, what the hell, and also owns the schedule. Although I don't believe she stalked Adrien and made it herself due to how busy she is as both Marinette and Ladybug, that's just weird and wrong. I'm reluctant to call her a stalker, but her actions are still wrong. Ultimately, this relationship is going to need a lot of therapy and counseling to not crash and burn. What were we talking about again? Oh yeah. The ice cream episode. I think the ice cream guy can be wrong and he doesn't understand that.

Sapotis: Silly little fun episode, also it introduces the first new Miraculous holder! I'm honestly fine with it so far if it means more screentime for side characters. I honestly really like seeing Marinette's classmates. They're neat. Also I was this close to putting Alya on the list but she proves time and time again that she doesn't actually know Ladybug's identity.

Gorizilla: In this episode we are introduced to Adrien's deranged parasocial fanbase. I'm starting to understand some of his father's decisions at this point. This is what I was talking about with the schedule, by the way. These obsessive stalker creeps make Marinette look reasonable, and I wouldn't be surprised if the one guy who I'm pretty sure becomes Party Crasher discreetly stalked Adrien to get his schedule. Restraining orders need to be filed.

Captain Hardrock: One of the funniest episodes, up there with Dark Cupid. Also Luka is here! And he already has great chemistry with Marinette! And more Rosie and Julie content even if it's crumbs!

[regularconvexheadcanons]

oKAY BUT CUBS OBSESSION WITH SCAR IS SOMETHING NO ONE CAN BREAK- THE I D E A S- (also hi sculk scar anon again :3)

1: Cub Totally uses Scar as a basis for spite specifically! Or at least Scar level spite (then you get Grian level instigation, Doc level revenge, aaaand honestly Cub uses himself as a Knows It level to see how others vary on what they know like parkour and different mechanics for it in the Labyrinths case - everyone elses mini games and businesses are enough data on their own, talkings just a bonus)

2: Cub had to lock himself away, listen to the Songs of the Vex and later the Sculk, when Grian was soulbound to Scar. Already Grian was connected to Mumbo, Grian already was paired up! Scar was *His* proven and Earned soulhalf- Sometimes he can only be brought out of his jealousy by the Vex, other times he calls Scar over and covers absolutely Covers Scar in jewelry while looking at their shared earring/necklace/ring/piercing. They may not have the Cathedral anymore but hell if Cub didn't know how to make Scar feel like an altar, worshipped and made *perfect*.

3: Though course connected as they are, Cub is near by, watches, listens, plans, *lives* near Scar in ways the other Hermits could never even Attempt. But Scars version? It's Being. Cub is near by? Scar slows, stops, flies predictably. Cubs watching? He becomes more animated, smiley, putting on a him sized puppet show for Cub. He's listening to Scar? More inflection, tone, stylized pacing- ends some stories as "For the one and only, Cubfan!" Planning is Inevitable for those two. Living?

They are Vex. They have always been before and after. Even Watchers look on, envious of the Connection eyes cannot achieve.

...aNYWAY- Hope yall like it :D (need more convex crumbs I am Dying)

1: Yep. Definitely. Scar spites, and holds grudges, and gives his friends the cold shoulder like no one else. But never towards Cub. They’re not sure if it’s a vex thing, but Vex definitely hold grudges, so it’s probably part of it

2: ooooh yess. Cub would definitely be at least a little bit jealous and begrudging of Grian for being Scar’s soulmate, and respond by treating Scar even better than usual. For so many reasons. A: how the other soulmate pairs get to act around each other without anyone questioning. He and Scar are happy to be close and affectionate in private, but being able to do that more publicly without the other players teasing them for it? Yes. Cub needs that.

b: he’s heard Scar’s stories of Grian being distant and rude and then later cheating in Scar. He knows Scar just wants an ally who cares for him. Grian has a chance to be as friendly and excited and caring with Scar as he is in Hermitcraft and he’s blowing it completely. (Which also made Cub wonder if Grian was faking it in Hermitcraft) C: one of my headcanons is that during Double Life, Cub ALSO feels the Scar and Grian’s injuries (but as phantom pain), even stronger than usual. And then Grian saying how Scar’s always getting hurt when he really isn’t. And Cub can’t quite understand Grian’s problem.

Also, on the same point, I want to know more about this Song of the Vex. I love it. Clearly it’s something that calms vexlings down, perhaps something only vexlings can hear. And maybe allays as well, and the allays are either calmed by it, or it makes them act up. And other players are really confused. I can imagine a lot of humming, no real lyrics. But a lot of pent of emotion. And now that’s led me to a thought that Vex - and Vexlings - hum when they’re happy. Like the equivalent of cats purring.

3: Scar putting on a show of normal everyday things whenever Cub’s around? Yes. So much yes. Anything he can to make Cub’s day that little bit brighter. And when Cub’s in a conversation with other hermits, Scar sometimes appears behind and Cub’ll be left trying to explain Scar’s antics. And he never quite can explain how Scar made him laugh in a way that the other hermits understand. In the same way neither of them can explain how they understand their secret non-verbal language of tiny movements, or what any particular movement means. They just have that connection with each other. Is it the Vex? Probably. Are they in love with each other? Only in a QPR way. But would they exchange that feeling for anything else? Absolutely not.

[synnamonroll666]

The Bigger, The Better

Prompt 11: Size Difference Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: Never did you think Syzoth's size was possible, until the clothes finally come off. Now with a ten inch dick ready to enter your hole, you worry if you'll even be able to take it... Warnings: Size Difference, A Pinch Of Cock Warming, Implied Sex... Word Count: 1k Main MasterList: 🖤 Kinktober MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot.

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

Syzoth was always a lot bigger than me. In height, he towered over me. Muscles? He was a beast compared to me. So I was fully expecting him to be quite big for me in other areas as well. But in no way did I expect this.

"Fuck!" I shouted in shock as I stumbled back and away from him. "You've got to be ten inches long!"

He merely chuckled at my reaction as an amused grin parted his soft lips. "You should see my natural form; it makes this form look tiny."

"How about we wait on that then?" I suggested as I warily eyed his length. "It will take quite awhile for me to get used to the shock of that, let alone this."

He laughed at my words while shaking his head. It seemed as if my boyfriend really enjoyed intimidating me with his girth and was amused by the way I reacted to it. Usually, men who would boast about their size would annoy me. But Syzoth was a more insecure person, so seeing him be proud even about something so lewd secretly made my heart melt.

"Deal." He agreed with a single nod of his head before slowly stepping closer, his massive cock bouncing in the air as he did so. "So, shall we begin?"

"I don't know." I uttered nervously while glancing down again, wondering how in the hell I would be able to take something so massive. "Shouldn't we prep me more?"

"I think you'll be okay. I'll go slow, I promise." He said as he took another step closer. Though I could tell by the hunger in his eyes that he was mainly just saying that so I would give in and just let him start already.

But I wasn't completely sure. Syzoth was never the type to do something unless he was 100% certain that I wanted it as well. So if he said that he felt like I was ready for him, I would believe it.

Sighing in defeat, I laid down on his bed and deeply exhaled to calm my nerves as he climbed on top of me. He held his member in his hand and rubbed the large tip through my soaked folds a few times to give me an extra moment to prepare and lubricate his cock even more than it already was.

He looked up into my eyes for approval, and once I nodded my head, he lined up his head with my hole and slowly began pushing himself in. My eyes instantly broadened, and I cried out as he stretched me wide—much wider than I had ever been stretched before. I could have sworn he was about to tear me in half as he slowly pushed each inch in at an agonizingly slow pace, though I was grateful for it. 

He eventually stopped halfway through, and his eyes searched my features for any signs of agony.

"Are you okay?" Do you need me to stop?" He asked as his eyes grew worried fast. Though I was in a lot of pain, I could see it in his eyes that he was dying to enter me fully.

After heaving a deep sigh to try and forget the pain I felt, I nodded my head slowly and responded with a breathless, "Yeah."

He gently pressed his lips against mine to show his love and appreciation for me, and then he began to slowly thrust within me once again. I gritted my teeth together as my eyes clenched shut, trying to muscle through the pain. I almost couldn't take it. But when his hands went to mine and his fingers intertwined with my own, that pain suddenly began to fade into something else.

When his tip finally kissed my cervix, the agony I once felt was barely existent; it was more of a dull ache than anything. To make sure I was more than comfortable, Syzoth stayed still within me for a moment, resting his head on top of my own as he waited for me to give him the go-ahead to start.

It was in this moment that I realized just how much this man truly cared for me. Most guys would barely give a shit to wait for the pain of stretching out to fade away, but Syzoth would—he would do anything to better my well-being because he truly loved me. And that fact alone had me wanting him more than ever. Once the aching finally melted away into something much more pleasurable, I decided that it was finally time.

"Syzoth," I whispered softly, and he lifted his head to gaze down at me with worry.

"Are you ok, my love?" He asked as his eyes once again studied my face for any signs of pain or regret.

"I-I'm ready." I breathed out, my voice shaking due to my nerves and now excitement.

"Are you sure?" His expression turned into one of shock and surprise. It was clear to me that he did not expect me to be ready so soon, and he was worried that I was just saying this for his benefit, which is exactly why I thought he hesitated.

My hands reached up and found purchase on his soft cheeks. My thumbs stroked his skin gently as I gazed upon his features with love. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to find a man so passionate—so caring and loving; I wanted to do anything to make him happy.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

With that being said, he pressed his lips against mine for a long and tender kiss. When he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, the corners of his lips had curled up into a soft and loving smile. My heart felt so full in this moment that I never wanted it to end. After giving one last nod of approval, he slowly withdrew himself from my walls to gently push back in.

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

[sakascal]

Have been meaning to do this for a while, so here it goes: A list of my AO3 stories. I'll update it when I release something new, and I'll even add a list of my Good Omens series in chronological order - because let's face it, it is all over the place chronologically but interconnected and should you wish to read it in order, it's not particularly easy right now.

Stories

These following stories are all from my Goodomentober series (so named because they are all written for prompts from a list posted last October - yes, I'm a slow writer ;) ).

So far these are the only stories I have, but more are coming. (One is already written and now in edit (for an event) and will post in November. I have two more in different planning stages. And a bunch more in planning for this series below.

Before We Became What We Are

Rated: T - 2 chapters - 6,989 words - status: complete

My first ever Good Omens story (and the first thing I had written in a few years altogether).

Pre-Fall. The first chapter is Aziraphale musing about that red-haired angel he'd met and has since not managed to meet again, though he wished. And then strange things are happening in Heaven.

The second chapter is mostly from pre-Fall Crowley's POV and deals with the Fall.

Excerpt

After Lucifer went down we others went down much quicker. A few at a time, the archangels were now only watching over the proceedings and let angels of a lower rank do the dirty work. Some seemed to get some kind of satisfaction out of it, others showed only stoicism. Some of us went over with a similarly calm face, others screamed and yet more cursed the angels as they fell. But still one after the other we were pulled toward the edge and thrown over.

I was terrified, of course I was terrified. But I would not let them see it. I could at least keep some semblance of pride. All I had ever done was ask questions and wonder why - and this was to be my punishment? So be it.

“Like this it will take forever,” I heard Micheal mumble. “You there,” she said as she turned to the guards. "Help the others get rid of the traitors.”

Oh no. Most of the guarding angels went immediately, always eager to follow orders. Aziraphale hesitated. Because of course he did.

“Surely, you want some of us to stand guard still?” he asked Micheal quietly.

“What for? All the traitors are right there and being dealt with. Get on with it!”

Like Twinkling Stars

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 3,040 words - status: complete

Post Season 2. Crowley is miserable, to say the least. It's been months since Aziraphale left for Heaven to become Archangel Supreme. Crowley is on the rooftop of the bookshop, drunk and drinking more, because what else is he supposed to do?

Mind the tags: this is hurt/comfort, so it's got a good ending (that leads directly into the last chapter of another story of this series).

Excerpt

“Ugh, damn it all to hell!” He lifted the stupid bottle to his mouth and gulped down the last of the liquor. When he dropped his arm again, he just let it fall to the side, not enough will left to do it properly. His hand hit the roof with a bit too much force. The bottle shattered in his right hand, spraying him and the rooftop with shards. The wetness he felt on his right palm probably meant he was bleeding but he didn’t care. He was spiralling, he knew he was, and he was helpless to stop it. His left hand came up to rub harshly over his face. Crowley decided that the moisture he felt there must be the soft drizzle that had begun to fall. Or possible splattered liquor. Or blood. Anything that wasn’t bloody pathetic.

Summoning Salvation

Rated: T - 7 chapters - 32,116 words - status: complete

It's been a few months since the world didn't end. Aziraphale and Crowley have begun to settle into a new normal. Then one day, a young woman enters Aziraphale's bookshop in some distress and with a dangerous request. Of course, Aziraphale can't let her go without helping her somehow. So now our ineffable idiots have to find out what happened and how to convince her not to go through with her plans, so the angel can save her.

Involves terrible planning and rash decisions, some actual talking! *gasp* But only a little, so don't worry. ;) Alcohol, fast driving, Aziraphale being bad with modern tech, a few injuries, half-snake Crowley, Crowley a bit less dressed than he usually appears, Crowley getting furious and Aziraphale actually being quite capable, thank you (at some things anyway).

Excerpt

“Oh, alright.” He cleared his throat. “That young woman was looking for a few books she hasn’t been able to find. She said she needs them for a paper she is writing.”

“Okay,” Crowley said, sprawling all over his couch. “Go on.”

“Her list was… unusual.”

“Must’ve been if she couldn’t find the titles anywhere else.”

Aziraphale sat up a little straighter. “My collection isn’t strange.”

“Never said it was, angel,” Crowley said with a huff. “But what would a student be looking for here that she couldn’t find in a library? You’re stalling. Get on with it.”

Aziraphale took the list back out of his pocket, straightened it out and handed it to Crowley. His eyes slid over to the window and he sighed. That perfect sunbeam to read in was long gone by now.

Crowley let out a whistle. “Yeah, alright. She’d get in trouble with these. Direct route to a miserable eternity, I’d say.”

“Uh-huh.” The angel nodded in agreement. He felt Crowley’s gaze again, it was even more intense than before. Still, he kept his face calm. Or what he thought must look calm. And continued looking outside. Then at his desk. And his vest. Oh, there was a button coming loose. He would have to remember to fix that later.

He heard a rustling. A glance confirmed that Crowley had sat up straight. “What did you do, angel?”

With Her as Our Witness

Rated: M - 8 chapters - 38,458 words - status: complete

The story of the Ineffable Idiots through moments in and around the Bentley. Or somehow related to the Bentley... It makes sense when you read it.

Also, the story of the Bentley and how she became what she is.

Starts off in 1933 and ends when Aziraphale returns from Heaven. Shows moments in their time together (and apart) and contains my first attempts at steamy scenes. (Hence the M rating.)

(Also @mielpetite has done art for this (thank you again!!))

Excerpt (from the 2021 chapter)

“You do.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes again and threw a puzzled expression Crowley’s way.

“Do what?”

“Eat, drink,” the demon said, pointing at him. “Dancsse.”

He was swaying with the music. “This isn’t dancing. Now the Gavotte–”

“‘s long dead, angel,” Crowley interrupted. He finished the last of the wine in his glass and put it away, before looking through the records Aziraphale had taken out.

Aziraphale sighed once more. “Shame. Took a dreadfully long time to learn. ‘n I w’s good!”

“Ssshame I never got to sssee,” Crowley said with a wink.

And there he went, blushing again. Dreadful demon, he always delighted in making him blush. Aziraphale didn’t like blushing - what an utterly useless reaction for the human body to have. But he did like seeing Crowley enjoy himself. A daunting dilemma, that.

The Darkest Moment

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 3,163 words - status: complete

It's 2019, Aziraphale and Crowley just made it through the apocalypse and their subsequent trials. Freedom - for now. But there are still some open questions, at least for Crowley.

Despite the title, this actually contains a lot of fluff and banter.

Excerpt

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked in return, and lifted his glass to take a sip from his wine - a wonderful Château Lafite-Rothschild he had acquired around 40 years ago and kept for a special occasion. The world not ending and their respective head offices - former head offices now - not succeeding in destroying them and them subsequently brokering their freedom must count as a most special occasion.

Crowley was seated in his usual spot on the sofa - if one felt gracious enough to call whatever it was the demon did with furniture ‘being seated’ - and waved the hand holding his own glass around at their surroundings.

When Aziraphale only blinked in confusion, he added: “The bookshop.”

Well, that certainly clarified nothing. Granted, they had been drinking off and on for most of the day since lunch, and he wasn’t quite what you’d call sober. But he liked to believe that he wasn’t plastered enough for his faculties to have left him entirely. So he should have been able to understand the question if Crowley hadn’t been quite so vague. Clearly.

“What about the bookshop?”

“How did it happen?”

“Just repeating it isn’t going to make me understand your question any more, Crowley. How did what happen?”

A frustrated growl. “You can’t possibly–!” Crowley took a deep breath, a hefty sip from his own glass, and tried once more in a calmer voice. “How did it burn down?”

Purge

Rated: T - 1 chapter - 2,905 words - status: complete

Everything is finally well, another apocalypse has been prevented (somehow), and they don't have to worry about Heaven and Hell any more. Aziraphale is back in his bookshop, that had been under Muriel's care all this time, but that leaves him (and by extension Crowley, much to his dismay) with a lot to do. Then Crowley comes across some stuff Aziraphale meant to put away (hoard) in case it might be needed again.

Excerpt

“‘Cause I’m about ready to throw some of your beloved Shakespeare out of the window and call a tempest down on it.” Which would only be fitting, really.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Stop me then,” he called out with a mischievous grin. Oh, how he liked teasing Aziraphale. And it had only become more enjoyable since his return from Heaven.

“Patience, dear.”

“Still a demon. As I recall telling you not too long ago, patience is a virtue. Demons are not known to be virtuous.”

An overly dramatic, exasperated sigh that was loud enough to be heard all the way down here was his answer. Crowley grinned.

“Yes, yes, I’m already on my way down.”

All Love's Luxuries

Rated: E - 1 chapter - 17,881 words - status: complete

Aziraphale is back from Heaven, and they had finally had a good talk. And made out in the Bentley. But the Bentley really isn't the place for a good first time, especially not when you've been waiting for thousands of years and - okay, so Crowley would have been fine with the Bentley. But Aziraphale wants to go somewhere more comfortable, and if there is one thing Crowley always tries to do, it's to give Aziraphale whatever he wants.

Excerpt

“Not here.” Crowley snorted and grabbed Aziraphale by the waistband, pulling him along. “Come with me.”

He led him through the plant room and took a left to his bedroom.

“Glass wall? Where is the door?” came the incredulous voice from behind.

“It’s stylish, angel.”

“It’s also very… open.”

“We made out in the Bentley.” He chuckled as he pulled Aziraphale to stand at the foot of the bed. “Bit late for this now. And there’s no one here but us.”

“The plants are here.”

“Sit.” Crowley lifted an eyebrow in disbelief and pushed Aziraphale to sit down. “The plants can’t see.”

��They can hear.”

“As can the Bentley,” he said with a huff, and pushed Aziraphale’s legs apart with his foot. “As I remember, we were making some quite lewd noises earlier.”

Oh, this time he could watch the blush spread down his chest. How adorable. And hot. And yet he knew that the smile that was spreading over his face - against his wish - was nothing but adoring.

He held Aziraphale’s face gently in his hands and placed a soft kiss on those stunned lips.

“Look, I’m sure she didn’t care. Didn’t she try to encourage us to continue? And the plants are used to all kinds of noises from me,” he told the angel pointedly.

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked around as if he was only properly seeing the bedroom now. Crowley watched with interest as his fingers slid over his sheets, feeling them. “You have– uh, in here?”

“Just this morning.” Crowley sank to his knees and winked at his angel. “Thinking of you.”

Chronological List

Since my Goodomentober series is all interconnected and a bit difficult to read in chronological order, here is a list. (Will be updated as I post more, of course.)

Before We Became What We Are

With Her as Our Witness - Chapters '1933', '1941', '1967', '2008', '2019'

The Darkest Moment

Summoning Salvation

With Her as Our Witness - Chapters '2021', '2023'

Like Twinkling Stars

With Her as Our Witness - Chapter 'Now'

All Love's Luxuries

Purge

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 20. hate sex

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “just this once”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ stuck in a log cabin with an old enemy, except ifrit’s been feeling extra lonely this christmas

pairing: ifrit ghoul x gn!ghoul!reader

a/n: ifrit is so hot and i want his dick inside of me rn

cw: nsfw content. hate sex. rough sex. penetration. dubcon (?). spanking. hair pulling. exes fucking each other. intense sexual tension

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“i’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be begging to have me back. and you’re going to fucking like it.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“can’t believe i’m stuck here with you, of all ghouls.”

“oh really? how do you think i feel!? it’s certainly not a ray of sunshine to be around you too!”

the two ghouls glared at each other, the tension between them palpable. you couldn’t believe it, out of all of the damn infernals that walked the topside, it had to be him.

you wanted to rent yourself out a little log cabin for christmas, to get away from the city and have some time to yourself. however, upon renting the cabin, you realized that both you and your ex-boyfriend got rented into the same, private log cabin on accident.

just great.

you’d never thought you’d see ifrit again, but here we are.

the fire ghoul only eyes you up and down, before rolling his eyes and throwing his suitcase to the side. both of you were unglamoured, showing off your demonic traits to the world. ifrit let out a snarl and gripped a chunk of his hair as he tried to calm himself down, but the very sight of you just agitated him.

“why can’t you just go get a different cabin? it’s clear we’re both supposed to have our own.” ifrit asked, but the tone in his voice was clearly agitated, which in turn only made you more upset.

“hell no. i’ve waited far too long for a cabin like this one. and i’m not about to let some pansy take it away from me.” you chided, referring to ifrit as the pansy.

that comment only made his tail swish in annoyance. ifrit huffed, smoky embers of frustration emitting from his mouth.

“well isn’t this just great! i’m stuck in a log cabin with the most obnoxious and overbearing ghoul there was to ever walk the earth!” ifrit complained, showing that he definitely wasn’t excited to be sharing a cabin with you.

your tail stiffened from annoyance, and you turned around to punch ifrit in the shoulder, making him yelp and cling onto the spot where you had punched him.

“well geez it’s not like you were any better to be around! oh and how i wonder why i broke up with an arrogant prick like you.” you insulted, clearly trying to get under ifrit’s skin.

and it was working alright.

ifrit just snarled and rammed onto your shoulder with his head, his horns poking at your shoulder blade, making you screech and hold onto your arm, rubbing it to try and soothe the pain.

“arrogant prick?” the fire ghoul repeated, a bitter and dry chuckle escaping his lips before he threw a few jabs himself. “i know damn well i’m not hearing this from crybaby over here.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, pupils dilating like a cat’s.

“who the hell are you calling crybaby, asshole?!”

“who do you think, genius? or do you have to repeat elementary school because you’re too stupid to understand?”

the arguing eventually escalated to a point where you and your ex were locking horns like two goats, both trying to push each other and make the other loose balance. the fight was… kind of pathetic to be honest. both of you were too stubborn to back down, baring your fangs and growling like rabid animals as you both fought. eventually, both of you got tired and collapsed on the singular bed, chests heaving as you both panted heavily.

ifrit was the first to turn over and face you, and both of you shared a brief glare.

“fuck you.” is all he could utter out.

and you just nodded.

“right back at ya.”

neither of you didn’t say anything for a moment. what were the odds of two ghouls wanting to go to a winter vacation home and accidentally ending up in the same cabin? slim chances alright, but it just so happened that you and ifrit got those unlucky chances.

the fire ghoul groaned and looked up at the ceiling, just starting to realize how petty and pathetic your guy’s fight was.

“what the hell are we even doing?” he sighed out. “we broke up, and are fighting like children over something so petty and fixable.

“i can’t believe i’m saying this, but i actually agree with you for once.” you panted out, agreeing with your ex. that’s probably the only thing you’ll ever agree on in a while.

the two of you sat in silence on the bed for a moment, not bothering to look at each other. it was quiet for a good while, but you both could tell that there was still some unresolved tension between the two of you.

suddenly, ifrit shifted his body, and slowly moved to climb on top of you, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning you down to the bed. your eyes widened in shock, and you were about to say something, but ifrit shushed you by putting the spade of his tail against your mouth.

“shut up.” he spoke, still clearly aggravated and having some pent up energy within him. “i need a release.”

you already had a feeling where this was going, but you needed to hear the words from ifrit himself.

“so… what are you going to do?” you asked in anticipation.

ifrit just leaned down and growled in your ear, his claws tightening around your wrists.

“i’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be begging to have me back. and you’re going to fucking like it.”

—

how did you end up like this again?

the bed was rocking heavily against the wall, with you and your ex being the cause of it. bent over doggy style with your ass in the air, you were moaning loudly and whorishly while ifrit pounded into you hard from behind, groaning and grunting in the process.

one of his hands was gripping the base of your wagging tail harshly, while the other grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, making you cry out in pure pleasure while ifrit’s fat, hard cock stretched out your hole in a needy way. you almost forgotten how good ifrit fucks, and he was just proving it to you over and over again with how hard he was fucking you right now.

“fuck yes.” he moaned through gritted teeth, stroking the base of your tail while his dick hit all the right spots inside of you.

“take it, y/n. take it all like the good cumdump you are.” he smirked, his thrusts becoming more quick and fast as he went to town on you.

you just sat there and took everything he was giving you. your claws gripped the sheets so tightly you swore you were going to rip them off the mattress. ifrit felt so good inside of you, it was way too familiar.

“f-fuck!! ahh! s-slow down, asshole!” you tried to warn, but your voice sounded way too needy, and that turned on ifrit even more.

“you can take it, y/n.” he grunted, pulling you closer as he thrusted harder. “you’ve always been able to.”

those words just sent you over the edge, making you moan loudly and your hole grip onto his cock more tightly as his thrusts got more erratic.

more. more. more. you needed more of him.

ifrit didn’t even know what sparked inside of him for him to just randomly decide to fuck his ex on the spot. maybe there was that sense of longing that desperately itched his brain. the need to have someone, a mate that he could love again. the breakup with you was messy, and yet he found himself so infatuated with you. yet, he hated you so much at the same time.

the conflicting emotions turned him on so much.

he just had to have you. one, last, time.

“c’mon, y/n. feel it all, feel my cock inside of your slutty hole.” he panted out, his movements getting quicker, thrusting into you deeply while he relished the sounds of your desperate moans.

“feel it stretch you good. you fucking slut.”

his hand slowly let go of the base of your tail, and moved down to spank your rear hard, making you squeak and squirm around as you took all of the sensations at once. ifrit spanked you liked you were the worse thing to walk this planet, and he truly felt like you were for the moment. but, he still found you so strikingly hot. his spankings only matched in time with each thrust, and the spanks got harder and harder while you were getting closer and closer.

you were in a state of pleasure and pain. his thrusts were so hard it hurt, but they felt so damn good at the same time.

“oh yes that’s it, y/n.”

smack.

“you’re doing so good, taking me so well.”

smack.

“i bet you wanted this the entire time, right? you just wanted to fuck your ex, huh?”

smack.

“say it, say you wanted to fuck me the entire time.

smack. oh it was so painful against your rear, but it felt so fucking good. ifrit was definitely projecting onto you now, but you were too deep in a lustful trance to care.

“y-yes! yes i-i wanted you the entire time!” you cried out, and you meant every word of it, even if you hated speaking it. “i-i wanted you so bad! y-your cock in my hole! a-ahhh!”

“ahh there we fucking go. music to my fucking ears.” ifrit grunted out, feeling himself getting closer as he thrusted into you.

“fuck y/n. i’m gonna cum.” he warned, and you nodded.

“m-me too! fuck i wanna cum so bad!” you cried out.

it wasn’t long, but after a few more thrusts, ifrit’s thick, hot seed spilled into your hole as your ex emptied himself. you followed soon behind afterwards, cum spurring everywhere, making a mess on your body and the sheets.

you both slumped against the bed, and ifrit laid on top of you.

he just snickered, and pulled your hair up, looking at your pathetic, fucked our face while you whimpered. tears of both pleasure and pain stained your cheeks, and you looked so defeated. ifrit knew it all too well.

ifrit just snarled in your face and licked your earlobe, before speaking.

“look who’s crying now.”

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[intoanotherworld23]

Chasing The Shadows

Pairing: Reader x Robert Floyd

Warnings: Mentions of killing and death, and description of violence, some minor kissing, swear words

Summary: When a deadly new virus breaks out into the world you and Bob Floyd fight for survival and for each other

Okay y’all this is someone completely new I’m writing for so you’ll have to let me know what you think of it so far! Hearts, reblogs, and comments are highly encouraged and appreciated! If you wish to be tagged for Lewis Pullman or this series let me know! IM TAGGING EVERYONE ON MY TAG LIST FOR THE FIRST CHAPTER SO IT CAN REACH A BIGGER AUDIENCE! Thank you everyone so much I love you all! XOXO

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"What's on the news?" Asking your husband as you plopped down on the couch a beer in hand passing him one.

"Somethin about a virus." He responded as he took a swig of his drink. "Already making its way into the states."

"A virus?" You questioned him as you looked over at him. "What kind of virus?"

"I don't know sounds like the flu or something." Shrugging your shoulders as you both continued to listen. Nothing was really being said about anything so it really peaked your curiosity as to what was really going on.

"Please the flu never really makes it through this town anyway." You scoffed hearing that. "Even if it did they wouldn't talk about it on the news."

"Well maybe if you stop talking and listen they'll tell us." He said making you lean back in exaggeration as you glared at him.

"What did you just say to me?" Placing your hands on your hips.

"You heard me." He mocked you as you opened your mouth partially lightly smacking his shoulder making him laugh. "Shhh there talking."

"You asshole." You joked both of you chuckling.

"Sources say this deadly virus is already spreading across the nation faster than the flu." Sighing loudly as that thought went out the window. "From what we've been told the major symptoms are high fever, rage, uncontrollable hunger, and swelling of gums."

"Jesus Christ what the hell kind of virus is this?" Bob asked leaning forward his elbows on his knees.

"Hospitals are filled with people all showing the same symptoms and doctors can't seem to figure out what the cause of this virus is."

"This definitely sounds worse than any flu I've heard of." Placing a hand on your chin eyes glued to the tv now.

"Hope they find the sorry son of a bitch who brought it here." Bob quipped as he quickly glanced at you.

"If he isn't already dead." Whispering but Bob still heard you anyway as he glanced at you with concern. "What?"

"Nothing." Stopping himself from really saying what was on his mind.

In that moment neither one of you really knew what to say or how to react exactly. This was the kind of stuff you saw on fantasy shows that had people wondering what if. Both of you were a little scared how how serious it sounded. Figuring you weren't the only ones who were feeling the same way.

"What should we do?" Whispering as you felt fear creeping up behind you. "Should we leave?"

"No I say we stay here until things calm down." Bob suggested sounding calm but you knew by the look on his face he was worried.

"Doesn't sound like things are gonna calm down soon."

"I bet in less than six months all that panic will have been for nothing." Bob shrugged his shoulders leaning back into the couch.

"Well there's no way in hell I'm gonna stay cooped up in this house for six months." You argued crossing your arms over your chest.

"State officials are asking that everyone stay inside and don't go out unless absolutely necessary." Bob looked at you with a proud smirk shaking your head at him with a giggle. "The only way to contract this unknown contagious virus is by being bitten or scratched."

"We'll just have to avoid being bitten or scratched." He joked nudging your shoulder.

"Please Robert don't joke this is serious." Keeping your focus on the news watching as they showed videos of different people being wheeled into hospitals and people driving by neighborhoods showing people losing control in their front lawns.

"I am taking it serious darlin." His tone softened when he could see the serious look on your face. "I'm sorry."

"Shit you'd think it was the end of the world or something." Bob shook his head as the newscaster continued to speak.

"Well it damn well looks that way." Showing a group of people already torching a building.

"Fucking hell." Bob exclaimed.

"Everyone is gonna lose their fucking minds once they all watch this." Taking a swig of your beer. "You remember what happened with that snow storm last year people wiped out everything in stores within days."

"Imagine what they'd do if we had an apocalypse." You continued feeling Bobs eyes on you.

"Baby I seriously doubt this is the apocalypse." Feeling an arm wrap around your shoulder pulling you in close. "I'll keep you safe don't you worry."

"I know you will it's just scary." Admitting to him as you felt your eyes tearing up.

"Nothing and nobody is going to even come close to hurting you." Kissing the side of your temple his lips lingered for a few moments.

As the two of you sat there drinking your beer flipping through channel after channel, and all they were talking about was this virus. Even your reality shows were being interrupted by breaking news. You've never seen anything like this before in your life.

Friends and family texting you non stop asking if you were okay. You were just hoping Bob was right about everything will eventually blow over. They'd have to find someway to stop it or at least slow it down. Then everything would go back to normal, and you and Bob would be safe.

"Let's go to bed baby." Bob turned the tv off as he stood up grabbing your hand lifting you off the couch. "Enough of this shit."

"I don't think I can sleep now." Pulling the covers back as you climbed into bed Bob right behind you.

"I know what I can do to help you sleep." Wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

"Babe stop." Giggling as he wiggled his hands to the edge of your pajama bottoms.

"Come on I promise it'll be the best you've ever had." Burying his head in your neck kissing your collarbone trying to move on top.

“You’ve said that one before.” Hands pinching your sides going into a fit of giggles as he started tickling you.

“Better watch that pretty little mouth of yours.” He warned as he hovered his body over yours.

"Bob." Moaning as you felt him grinding on you hands moving along the length of your legs.

Before anything else could continue further a loud boom shook the house cause both you and Bob to look out the windows. Leaning up on your elbows as Bob jumped out to check what the noise was. Watching as he looked around not seeing anything that really stood out.

"The hell was that?" Asking him as you sat up completely.

"I don't know baby I don't see anything." Shaking his head as you walked back over to you. "I think maybe it was a crash or something."

"That sounded a lot louder than a car crash." Timing couldn't have been more perfect as you both heard another crash.

"Robert that's not a crash that sounds like something exploding." Standing up as he walked out of the room to the front door.

Following after him as some of the neighbors were already ahead of you and Bob. Standing on their lawns looking around to see what those noises were, and where they were coming from. Fear was written across everyone's face, and parents tried to keep their children inside.

"Did you see anything?" Bob yelled to the neighbor across the way.

"Looked like an explosion from the center of downtown." He responded watching as Bobs face fell hearing his words.

"Get inside." Bob pointed at you as he jogged in behind you slamming the door shut. "Get inside now."

"What?" You yelled at him as he paced around the room. "Robert what?"

"Sounds like someone is blowing up the town." Covering your mouth with your hand a gasp slipping past your lips.

“What do you mean blowing up?”

“I don’t know there just blowing up the town.”

"We can't stay here." It came out more as a suggestion than a question.

Before Bob could respond his phone started to ring. Walking back into the bedroom picking it up hearing his muffled voice as you just stood there. Feeling like your feet were stuck to the ground, and your body was starting to slowly freeze. 

You couldn't believe what you had been seeing and hearing. None of this felt like it was actually happening. Everything went quiet to where you literally could only hear yourself breathing. Your eyes staying open not even able to blink.

"Yeah yeah we'll meet you there." You heard him say as he hung up the phone and came back out to you. "That was my buddy he lives on the other side of town says we should leave he's got a safe house for us to stay at."

"What's going on?" Asking him your voice shaky as your eyes started to water.

"People are destroying the town and police are shooting people down in the streets." His words made your eyes go wide. "There patrolling neighborhoods and refusing to let people leave their homes."

"So then shouldn't we stay here." Whimpering as you could already hear commotion from outside.

"No it's not safe we have to leave now." Running to the closet grabbing a couple of bags. "Take only things that we need."

Handing you a bag you started filling them with medicine, food and bottles of water. Bob filling his with an extra set of clothes and other medical supplies. Once your bag was filled you quickly zipped it and then ran into your room to change into something else, and slipping on a pair of shoes.

Taking a solid minute to think about what was happening. Trying your hardest not to burst into tears. Leaning forward as your head started to spin, and you felt like you were going to be sick. Praying and hoping that this was all some kind of terrifying dream, and you would wake up safe in Bobs arms.

"Here." Bob blurted as he shoved something cold and hard in your hands.

"I've never shot a gun before." Looking at the dark gray steel weapon laying flat in your hands.

"Let's just hope you never have to." Not knowing whether he was telling you that or himself.

It seemed a little overdramatic having weapons, but judging on what you were hearing and seeing weapons were probably necessary. Besides Bob wouldn't just hand you a gun unless he absolutely thought you would need it to protect yourself. Especially if anything were to happen to him.

Setting the bags near the front door as you waited for Bob who grabbed yours and his phones. Bob taking one last look around the house making sure you guys didn't forget anything. Neither one of you knowing when you were going to be back if you would come back at all.

"Let's go baby military is moving in now." He looked up from his phone as you both grabbed a bag and headed to the truck outside.

Throwing your bags into the bed of the truck as you hopped inside. Bob starting the truck pulling out of the driveway and down the road. Looking around to see people loading their vehicles everyone with a look of panic on their faces not knowing what was gonna happen.

None of this felt real in your mind, and almost felt like it was some kind of drill. Maybe you and Bob were acting like everybody else, and just panicking for no reason. Maybe everything would die down in a few days. Or maybe things would only get worse and never end.

"Do you think we'll be able to make it?" You asked Chris after minutes of silence.

"I don't know sweetheart." His answer had your stomach churning. "But I'm gonna do everything in my power to keep us safe."

"How long are we gonna stay there for?"

"Until all of this blows over." Hearing the engine roar as he put his foot hard against the gas pedal.

"What if this never blows over?" Sniffling as a tear ran down your cheek.

"Then we'll stay together no matter what." Answering without hesitation.

"I love you Bob." His hand grabbed yours kissing your knuckles as he kept his eyes on the road.

"I love you too." Remaining calm was his man focus in order to help keep you calm so you didn't start to panic.

Neither one of you spoke the rest of the drive as you got closer to town. People yelling and screaming down the streets some people were even attacking others. If you weren't terrified before you were absolutely petrified now.

People were breaking into buildings, stores, shops, and pharmacies. Leaving them with handfuls of items running away nobody even attempting to stop them. It was pure madness and it was happening right in front of your eyes.

Hearing a loud rumble as you looked up to see a couple of helicopters flying over heading towards the center of town. Most likely military which means they were already in town blocking people from leaving. This was far more worse than you and Bob ever imagined.

Looking down one of the streets to see a military tank blocking anyone from leaving or entering. People filling the streets as they were begging and pleading to leave. Guns being drawn in their face to anyone who dared to get close enough.

"We'll go down this street avoid them as much as possible." Turning down another street that was empty.

"What if there at this safe house already?" Your mind going to worst case scenario.

"They won't." He snapped making you jump a little at his tone. "Besides he would have let us know and we'd go somewhere else."

That's when something started ringing in your ear, and that's when it hit you it was gunshots going off. You didn't want to look back, but you couldn't help it as you heard screams echoing around you.

Regrettably turning back watching as men opened fire on people bodies dropping to the floor, and blood filling the streets. Crying as you faced straight ahead Bob grabbing your thigh massaging it in comfort. Keeping his brave face on knowing exactly what was happening behind him.

He was going to protect you and keep you safe as long as he could. Even if it meant that he had to sacrifice himself to do so he would in a heartbeat. Your safety is a priority to him.

"Are we almost there?" You asked as he turned down a dirt road.

"Yeah baby less than a minute." Nodding his head as you rested your head against the head rest closing your eyes for a quick minute.

All you wanted to do in this moment was just sleep. Sleep and not wake up until all of this was over. Thinking that sleep would help calm your nerves, but in all reality all you would be able to do is just close them and not actually sleep.

Neither one of you prepared for anything like this, and never thought that you'd have to. You and Bob were clueless just like everybody else. The both of you were just going to have to take things one step at a a time, and hope things didn't take a turn for the worst.

"Baby we're here." Bob spoke softly your eyes opening slowly.

Looking forward as you saw a brick house straight ahead. The doors and window were sealed shut with some kind of steel. As Bob parked the car you both cautiously looked around. Everything was eerily quiet, and all you could hear was the sounds of the trees rustling, and the crickets chirping.

"Where is he?" You asked not seeing anyone.

"He's preparing the bunker." Looking over at Bob who was on his phone. "Said wait a minute and he'll be out."

"He's got a bunker hidden in this house?" Looking skeptically at the house raising your brows.

"Yep his old man left him this house." Bob turned to you. "Said it would take a lot more than a couple bombs to get through to this place."

"Gee that's comforting." Sighing out loud making Bob chuckle.

"It's better than being stuck out there baby." He did have a fair point there.

Which was the truth since it sounded like people were going crazy out there. If it meant staying in someone else’s bunker for a while to stay safe then that’s what you were going to have to do.

"God I hate when you're right." Grumbling as he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him.

"Please you love it." Teasing you as he kissing your cheek multiple times.

"Just a little." Pressing your thumb and pointer finger together as you giggled.

"We're gonna be okay baby I can promise you that." Moving a hand up to your head stroking the back of it.

"I know you'll keep us safe." Pressing your hand against his both of you staring at each other.

A door creaked open catching both your attention as your focus now went to the opened door with a man standing in front of it. Bob hopping out of the car as you followed suit. Each grabbing a bag as you walked over to him. Eyeing the man with caution not knowing who he is.

Bob seemed to trust this man enough to do this, and you trusted Bob. Of all the people this guy could have called he chose Bob. Thanking your lucky stars that you would have some place to at least hide when all this is going down.

"Thank you for this Jake it means a lot." Bob patted the man on the back as he nodded.

"Bob this is my girl my wife Y/N." He introduced you the man glancing over to you. "Y/N this is an old very good buddy of mine Jake Seresin."

"The hell do you mean by old?" He scoffed cocking his head to the side.

"Your older than me." Bob joked as he punched his arm.

"Nice to meet you Y/N given the circumstances." Bowing his head down to which you gave a quick nod. "Alright let's head inside."

Following Jake inside the room it was practically empty. Expect for some desks and dressers that were opened and emptied. If you wouldn't have known better you would have thought this house was abandoned.

Your heart was starting to race a little bit more as you were being escorted around the house. Imagining a bunch of men running into the house with guns loaded ready to blow all of you sky high. Your breathing was becoming a little uneven and heavy.

Bob grabbed your hand in his noticing you were looking around and not really paying attention. Looking up at him as he gave you a weak smile and squeezed your hand. Silently telling you that everything was going to be okay.

Jake pulled back what looked like a bookshelf that revealed a metal door. Starting to feel a little hope and relief that things we're going to be okay with you both. Feeling a weight off your shoulders that you would both at least be sheltered.

"Just down these steps are where you'll both stay." He opened the steel door as Bob moved you in front of him hands on your shoulders.

Jake leading the way down a flight of steps turning on some fluorescent lights looking around to see steel walls. Multiples shelves stocked with food and water. Setting your bag down not noticing how dry your mouth was until you were staring at gallon jugs of water.

"This should last you both a couple months." Motioning around to all the food and water. "Here's where you two can sleep."

"And I even brought down some games so you two wouldn't die from boredom." Pointing to a shelf full of board games making Bob laugh. "Can't have any electronics on just in case there tracking."

"Which means turn your phones off." He requested as both you and Bob shut them down and threw them on the beds.

"What are you gonna do?" Bob asked Jake with concern and feeling bad you guys were taking over.

"Stay up top keep an eye on things." Shrugging his shoulders not sounding worried at all. "Make sure nobody gets in."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Bob not satisfied with that answer and worried for his friend.

"If I need you I'll holler brother." Jake joked both of them laughing while your face remained stoic.

"Jake thank you again for this." Bob praised with generosity.

"I would expect you to do the same thing for me." He responded smacking his arm with a grin.

"Absolutely brother." Bob shaking his hand with a loud clap.

"Do they know what kind of virus it is?" You spoke up both heads turning towards you.

"Yeah they do." He nodded his head as he looked down.

Neither you or Bob liked the way he said that or how his body language changed. Turning stiff and rigid like he just walked into something he didn't want to see. He stayed silent for a moment decided whether or not he wanted to tell you.

"What?" You pushed wanting an answer that he was hesitating on answering.

"The living dead."