#i’m not sure that’s really his name so blame google

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 6 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: No cliffhanger this time, I promise <3.

Warning: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, No smut in this one today, ladies and lads. I didn't feel like it worked with this chapter. I was going to make this one long chapter but I thought it better to split it :)

ANGST, Y/N confronts them about the events of the last chapter. Insecurities get in the way of them and that is explored a lot more in this chapter with mentions of their dads as well as Gina hurting them. She is sullying their image by saying lies (mentions verbal abuse and comments on how the plus size reader is "probably being used" by them because of how she looks) , she does have an incident at a bar with a guy being a dick, they defend her.

Word Count: 4853

Series here/ Donate to Me :)

You broke a rule. 

You went on Google and searched for their lawyer’s information through news outlets spouting anything they could in regard to this case. After finding what you needed, you charged into the building and past a secretary who was shouting for you to come back as you opened the door to a conference room where many sets of eyes including their shocked expressions landed on you. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need a moment alone with these boys for a moment.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, she just stormed right past me—”

“No, no. It’s alright, Crystal. Um, let’s take a breather and we’ll be back in a moment.”

As soon as everyone had filed out, your angry eyes burned into them as you slid your phone across the table. 

“That thing hasn’t stopped going off since Gina released your names and quite frankly I’m afraid to look at it.”

“How did you find out where we were?”, Steve asked as he rose to his feet.

“I googled your lawyer’s name.”

“Well, so much for that promise.”, Eddie sassed as he leaned back in his chair. 

“And so much for your promise to take care of me!”, you screamed not caring if anyone heard. “Did you really fucking think that I could stay out of this?! Did you think after what she said people weren’t going to wonder and dig into why I was with you at that party?!”

“You wanted to go and we warned you of the risks of being seen with us.”

“Don’t you dare do that! Don’t you fucking dare place blame on me! I don’t care about being seen with you or if people know that we’re together! What I care about is my job, those kids, and you two!! How can I properly help and protect myself if I don’t have all the facts?! Do you know what she’s saying? She’s saying you two promised to take care of her if anything ever happened. That you were verbally aggressive with her and--”

“Yeah, Y/N, we’re aware of she’s claiming.”, the mogul growls. “Since you’re doing your own research did you go on her social medias? Oh, a lot of fun material there. Now that a fucking judge allowed her to talk about us she’s been posting nonstop about how Eddie would demean her and make her feel ugly. That I apparently offered her money to get plastic surgery to make her look ‘perfect’.”, he sarcastically laughs. 

“You should have told me.”

“Because you think we did what she claims?”

“No, Eddie! Fuck, so I can prepare. What if parents suddenly feel like I can’t teach their kids because of the company I keep? What if the school decides that my association with you isn’t worth the attention? Now that this has come to light I need to be aware of what’s going on!”

Neither man said a thing infuriating you more. 

“Did you not tell me because you thought I wouldn’t want to be with you? Or did you think I’d hurt you like she did?” You laugh as you shake your head. “Jesus. I thought you two were different but you’re just like every other scared little boy. I thought I had given you enough reason to trust me but I guess not.”

“Yeah so why don’t you fucking leave then, you little brat.”

You weren’t sure if they saw it in your eyes but you definitely felt your heart break. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you back away towards the door. 

“I’m so stupid.”

When your teary eyes met theirs, you could tell Steve regretted his words but he couldn’t take them back. They couldn’t take any of this back. Furiously, you reach into your pocket and throw their apartment key across the table before leaving the way you came. 

##############

Instagram:

IHateithere: “Oh my god. Poor Gina!”

NeverHave_IEver13: “She’s so sweet and deserves better.”

CorrodedGirl28: “Fuck Gina Frost. This isn’t the first time she’s made claims against a partner! I met Eddie Munson backstage at one of his concerts and he was so sweet.”

E!News: Mystery Woman seen at the Charity Event with Steven Harrington and Edward Munson has been cited by the men’s lawyers as ‘just a friend.’

Twitter:

ElderEmoKid91: That poor friend of theirs. No matter what people will think they dated because of Gina. 

ChaosRains: ‘Their friend’? Yeah right. Probably as much of a whore as Gina Frost!

JusticefortheUnheard: I bet if this was a man with two women he’d be slated as a ‘hero’ but because it’s a woman with two men she’s a whore. Grow up!

Steve Harrington: Eddie and I are saddened to hear that not only has our privacy been violated but Gina Frost is allowed to continue spreading her lies until we get this matter resolved. We never once raised a voice or hand to her and took care of her like any boyfriend would which she constantly took advantage of…

Steve Harrington: In regard to the young lady that came with us to charity event last Saturday, she is a friend we’ve known for a while. We ask politely that you respect her privacy as what is going on between us and Gina…

Steve Harrington: doesn’t involve her. Thank you for your understanding and we will speak more on this situation when we are finally able.

TMZ: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson release joint statement regarding ‘friend’ and how they feel about Frost ‘spreading her lies’!

YouTube and TV:

CBS: “Gina Frost, thank you so much for speaking with us today. Before we let you go, what are your thoughts on the young lady they were seen with? Do you have any advice for her in regard to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”

“Run, girl. Get as far away from them as you can. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started ‘hanging out’ with a girl like her because of our case. They always wanted me to be perfect. To look like the woman they thought would be equal to them and their status. She’s the complete opposite of what they wanted me to be so dating, or excuse me, being friends with her makes them look good.”

***

You wiped the tears that fell with your knee as you browse Daddies on your computer. Your phone was still dinging constantly so you kept it hidden in your bedside table drawer. Since winter break had started you didn’t have to deal with work and for that you were thankful. 

Your identity hadn’t been officially confirmed but it seemed to be common knowledge at this point; everyone knew it was you. 

Not wanting to be alone, you ran home into your parent’s open arms. 

“Baby! Are you ok? What’s going on? Tell us everything.”

“I’m so stupid, mom.”, you cried.

“No, you’re not, honey. Come on. I made some coffee. Let’s sit down and talk.”

You told them everything minus the exact way you met them but you did tell them that you had been dating them both and how much you cared about them. When you were met with nothing but love and zero judgement, you cried harder. 

Having fully settled in, you felt yourself getting antsy. After everything, you didn’t want a new relationship, just something casual but after having been with the guys you felt yourself cringing more and more at the stupid flirting that hit you. 

“’Sup, pretty girl? Fuck your gorgeous. Wanna suck my cock?”

“Hey babe. You got an attitude? I bet I can fuck it out of you.”

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

Your head straightened at the message from Mogul/Rockstar. You hadn’t heard from them in over two weeks. What were they doing on this site? You couldn’t help the jealousy that flowed through you even though technically you were on the site first. 

2:13am: What do you want, Steve?

2:14am: I want an answer to my question. What are you doing on this site again?

2:15am: What are YOU doing on here?! And why do you fucking care? You told me to leave remember?

2:17am: We’ve been calling you for the past couple of weeks but you don’t answer. We got worried. Steve thought maybe we could reach you through here but I thought naw. She wouldn’t get back on here so fast. Guess we were wrong. 

2:20am: Don’t you dare, Eddie. Don’t you turn this around on me. You have no idea what I’ve been through! I still can’t believe you didn’t talk to me. You really expected me to sit at my apartment while you handled all this alone. Did you really think she wouldn’t pull me into your thing?”

2:21am: Now because of all the secrecy I can’t help but think what I’m hearing is true!

2:22am: Like what? 

2:25am: Answer. Like what?

2:26am: That you only dated me so it seems like you didn’t want her to be the ‘ideal woman’.

You hear your phone vibrate against the drawer it’s nestled. 

2:28am: Answer the phone.

2:28am: No.

2:29am: Now, Y/N. We need to talk.

2:30am: Oh now you want to talk!? Go fuck yourselves!

2:30am: Mogul/Rockstar has invited you to a video chat!!

2:31am: CurveybabywAttitude declined your invitation to video chat. 

2:32am: Y/N. Answer the fucking phone. 

2:38am: Y/N, sweetheart, please.

2:44am: Baby…

2:44am: Please…

2:45am: We love you. 

2:45am: So much.

Uh oh! It looks like this Baby can no longer receive messages from Mogul/Rockstar! This means you have either been blocked or the Baby has deleted their account. 

###################

“Jesus what assholes.”, your best friend sighs as she takes a sip from her glass. “If they loved you then why did they push you away?”

“I don’t know, My. Let’s stop talking about them and dance!”

To get your mind off everything and let go, you met up with your best friend who took you to a new bar that had been built while you were away from home. Dressed in your tightest black dress and black heels, you grabbed your own drink and danced away the pain. 

Your friend took photos, tagging you together with men in the background casually touching your arm or waist. Your limbs found their way around a cute boy you had been talking casually to and allow him to kiss you. You hated the taste, missing Eddie and Steve even more but you pushed down the feeling as you pulled him tighter against you. 

“Take me home.”, you slurred, making the young man immediately jump to his feet. When you tried to do the same you fell backwards. 

“Whoa, Y/N. Maybe, you should let me take you home.”

“Naw, Mya. I-I-I M’fine.”, you assured as you lightly pushed her to the side and stumbled out the front door. When you tripped again the man wrapped your arm around his neck and began leading you to his car. “Wait—Wait. I’m…I need a minute.”, you whine as you take a seat on the brick wall behind you.

“Come on, baby. You can rest at my place.”, the man cooed in your ear causing you to cringe. “Look we don’t even have to go. We can just fuck in my car real quick—”

“Oh, that’s romantic.”

As you stood up and started to walk away, he grabbed your wrist a bit to roughly and in return, you smacked his cheek before stumbling to the concrete. 

“Ow! Fucking bitch—” As the man began to step forward, someone intercepted, abruptly grabbing his collar and lifting him off his feet. 

“Eddie, let it go, man. Not right now.”, Steve whispers before kneeling down beside you to try and help you up. 

“Get out of my sight.”, the rockstar growls, pushing him away from you. 

“Y/N, stop. I’m just trying to help you stand—”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”, you shouted as you shoved his hand away. “I don’t need anything from you!” 

Trying to push up onto your knees, you became dizzy and fell over again causing Steve to try and steady you while blocking your shoulder from scraping the wall beside you. Your hair was blocking your face but when they heard you sniffle, Eddie crouched down to balance on his heels and tenderly reached out to move some of it behind your ear. 

“I did everything you asked… I didn’t push when it came to your past or dig into your information online. I-I-I respected the anon-ymity and privacy when we first met and took a leap of faith going to that party with you. I flew to visit you anywhere you were and didn’t complain when you were gone for weeks at a time. I made myself vulnerable…for you…but still…you don’t trust me.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, we are so sorry—”

“I want to go home, please, Daddy.”

The way you said that shattered them in two. Just in your voice alone they could hear how much pain you were in yet even in your inebriated state you still yearned for them. Selfishly, it gave them hope.

“Y/N, sweetie! There you are.”, your best friend shouts in relief as she runs to you and helps you to your feet. “Get the fuck away from her. Haven’t you done enough damage?!”

“We just want to talk to her.”

“Fuck you! You had your chance to talk and—”

“Mya, please. Sleepy.”, you whine. 

When she tries to lead you away from them towards her car, you stumble over your feet again but Eddie swiftly catches you and lifts you into his arms. 

“We’ll help you get her to your car.”

“Why? So you know which one is mine and follow me back to her house?!”

“No, so we can help you get her situated and back home so she can rest.”, Steve growled. 

Mya blinks, taken a back slightly by their protective demeanors over you. After taking a moment, she finally nods and guides them towards her vehicle, watching carefully as they place you in the passenger seat. The mogul buckles your seatbelt and gently puts your bag in your lap.

Your half-lidded eyes scan his worried face as your head lulls towards him. 

“M’not her.”

“Who, honey?”

“Gina.”

Flashing you a soft smile, he begins to reach out to pet your head before forcing himself to stop and rise to his feet.

“We’re staying at the hotel by the highway; room 118. When she wakes up tomorrow, if you could tell her that, we’d appreciate it.”, Eddie conveys as his sad eyes stay on you. 

“Your fuckers, you know that?”, Mya shouts their way as they start to leave. “Like so much so that I don’t even know where to begin. She used to call me every other day and talk about these new guys she was seeing. She never told me your full names but she told me everything else. ‘Oh Mya, they are so sweet and funny. Steve is amazing at his job and works to hard to make sure everything gets done while still being able to be there for me. I love watching Eddie play on stage. He gets so into the songs and his face lights up when he hears the fans singing along. Falling asleep in their arms is my new favorite place. I finally feel safe.’”

“When the news dropped, I called her but she didn’t answer. I wasn’t worried at the time because the way she described you, I thought ‘Thankfully, they have her and she has them.’ Then she came home and told me about you expecting her to hide in her apartment with zero information on what was happening. How you yelled at her and called her a fucking brat when she called you out.”

“Oh, and the icing on the cake? You tell her you love her for the first time over a dating website AFTER ALL THIS BULLSHIT YOU PUT HER THROUGH! Holden wore his asshole behavior out in the open for all to see. You made her believe you were different, leading her on before breaking her heart. After the stuff I read, I’m starting to believe Gina Frost.”

Both men absorbed what your best friend was saying, different emotions painting their features before finally landing on anger; not at her but themselves. 

“Your right.”, Steve replied in a sullen tone. “We fucked up. Hell, we did more than fuck up…”

“We’ve never cared about anyone the way we do her and that terrifies us. Not just because of our status or who we are even though that’s why Gina used us but…”, Eddie added. “The men underneath the fame and money are incredibly flawed.”

“Gina made us afraid of her hurting us but our own personal bullshit made us afraid of hurting her.”

“So this is better?”, Mya asked.

“My…where…where your phone?”, you slurred as your hand lazily reached in her direction.

“Y/N, I’m taking you back to your mom’s, honey, you don’t know need to call them.”

“No…not mom…Eddie…Steve…I need to make dem come back. They were here an’ an’…”

“How about you call them tomorrow morning, ok? It’s really late and—”

“I don’t want dem to leave again. Mya…please…”

“Hey, hey sweetheart, we’re right here. We haven’t gone anywhere.” Tears start to run down your cheeks again and the rockstar cups your face in his hand. “We’re right here and we’ll be here when you wake up. Just let Mya, take you home and get you in bed. Tomorrow you can call us and we’ll talk then alright?”

After you nod, Eddie adjusts your body again before closing the door. 

“You guys should get going.”

“Do you really love her?”, your best friend asks.

“Yes.”

Again, Mya takes a moment to gather her thoughts as her eyes shift between your now sleeping frame and them. 

“Her parents house isn’t far. You can follow me there.”

***

“Why are they here?”, your father asks in an annoyed tone as he eyes the men up and down. 

“It’s ok, Mr. Y/L/N. They just wanted to help get her situated and then they’ll be on their way.”, Mya answers in equal measure. 

“Is her room up here?”, Eddie inquires as he gestures towards the stairs. 

“Why don’t you come with us so you can get her changed into something comfier.”, Steve follows when your friend nods. 

“Why? You’re her whatevers right?”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate right now for us to do that.”

“I can help you.”, your mom responds out of nowhere. “Come on, gentlemen.”

After they get to your room, your mother turns on your bedside lamp as Eddie gently places you down on your bed. Taping the rockstars shoulder, she hands him an oversized shirt with your college insignia on it and some shorts. 

“Maybe you should…”

“I trust you, Mr. Munson. Plus I’m right here.” Her eyes studiously watch them as both boys work to change you out of your tight garment doing everything they could to not have to look at your body. Steve’s palm carefully cradled your head to make sure they didn’t jostle you around too much as you soundly slept. 

“Do you have a washrag or wipe or something for her makeup?”

Her head tilts at his question, impressed he even thought of that. Disappearing into your restroom, she came back with wet wipes, and Eddie thanked her as he took one and gently cleaned your face.

This was a bit harder to accomplish without moving you as your face scrunched and you whined. 

“Steve…stop…”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Blame him. That way if I don’t do this correctly it will be his fault.”, he teased making you sleepily giggle. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”, Eddie whispers.

“Thank you, ma’am, for letting us do this. We just wanted to make sure she got here safely.”

“Hm. You wanted to make sure she got back home in one piece but didn’t think to do that when it came to all this chaos you brought her into?”, you mom scolded as she folded her arms. 

“We did warn her—”

“No Mr. Harrington. You may have warned her about your lifestyle but you didn’t do anything to protect her when the fallout of that lifestyle presented itself. Holden ‘warned’ her about what life in New York would be like but when things got hard he abandoned her instead working with her. Like him, you left her alone.”

Nodding, their heads hung as they began to head towards the door before stopping. 

“I’m afraid.”, Eddie announces. “My mom died when I was young, my dad went to jail, people around me told me I’d never amount to anything, and then our ex did what she did. When we met Y/N, fuck, I thought she was perfect… and that scares me. I don’t want to lose her but I also don’t want to be the reason that spark inside of her dies.”

“Seems like a lose/lose, Eddie. But let me ask you something… what if your relationship with her had a happy ending? What if she didn’t hurt you like your ex and you don’t hurt her like people in your life?” She smiles softly as she pats his shoulder. “It’s a risk, boys, but you just need to decide who is worth taking that risk for. You’re more than welcome to stay in our spare bedroom if you would like.”

####################

When you woke up the next morning, you had a splitting headache, thankful that your pain reliever was still in your drawer by your bed. The sound of soft breathing startled you a bit and when you leaned over your bedframe, you were surprised to see Eddie asleep on your floor using his jacket as a pillow. Steve had placed himself in the reading chair you had in the corner with his head leaning against the wall. 

You didn’t realize how much you missed them till you saw their faces and you took the opportunity to refamiliarize yourself as your eyes scanned over them. The mogul was in jeans and a polo making you smile softly while silently missing the sleek suits that hugged him perfectly. The rockstar was still dressed the same as he usually was but his whole demeanor even while sleeping seemed heavy. 

Your heart broke for them until the last couple of weeks caught up with you and you remembered why you were here. 

Reaching for one of your pillows, you threw it their way, hitting Eddie’s chest before it bounced and hit Steve’s lap. 

“The fuck?”, he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. 

“The fuck indeed. Why are you both here? How did you even know where I was?”

“Your best friend was posting pictures of you and tagging your location on Instagram. You weren’t answering your phone—”

“Yeah, Steve, for a reason. That doesn’t give you the right to come down here.”

“Thank God we did because some asshole was harassing you and Mya was having trouble getting you to her car to take you home.”

“No, Eddie. You playing hero doesn’t absolve you of what you did. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“We tried to call—”

“Oh, fuck you both!” As you start to get up to yell at them, a sharp sting runs through knee causing you to wince and sit back down. 

“Shit. Didn’t see that last night. Um, do you have a first kit or anything thing?”

When you don’t answer, the mogul goes on the hunt himself as Eddie kneels in front of you to look at the scrape on your knee. 

“Yeah, you fell on the concrete outside of the bar with some asshole trying to… I told him to fuck off.” Sitting on the bed beside you, Steve opens the little white box and starts to open a Band-Aid before his friend stops him. “Dude, you have to clean it first. It’s like you’ve never been in a fight before. Gimme this.”, he chuckles lightly as he takes the box and pulls out the antiseptic.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m not… I don’t belong to you anymore.”

His movements only halt for a second before Eddie continues taking care of you. 

“I don’t mind doing this. I like taking care of you.”, he murmurs. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to but I didn’t want you to cast me aside either.”

“We—”

“Don’t say you didn’t, Steve, because you did.”

“We did.” His response surprised you as you turned your head in his direction. “We talked to your mom last night. She’s a very wise woman.”, he smirks as he watches Eddie continue his task. “Y/N, I worked so hard to get where I am and I don’t just mean taking over my dad’s company and doing the deals I do. When I was growing up, I was never enough for either of my parents but especially my father. In his eyes, I could always be just a little bit better.”

“I could shorten my time by one more second in the pool or get one more minute on the court. My grades could have been one point higher or I could have gotten three grand more out of a deal. He wanted me to be perfect but I learned after I graduated high school that bar was always changing.” When his eyes finally met yours, you saw the pain behind them. “Gina knew all this… that’s why she’s saying that about me. She knows it hurts me…people thinking I’m like my father.”

Eddie finishes placing the Band-aid on your skin and leans back against the wall across from you.

“My dad was a dick…to me and my mother. He cut us down all the time verbally but after she died it got worse. He would tell me I was stupid and a freak just like the people in our town. I left my house with more bruises than I could count on numerous occasions but his words, babe. I carry those everywhere even now. I never once, no matter how angry I was, called her anything demeaning even though I fucking wanted to. She would call us every name in the book but we never once belittled her or laid a hand on her.”

“When we met you, Jesus, I swear there was no girl we had ever met like you.”

“Beautiful, sarcastic, kind, understanding…”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, you are everything we’ve ever wanted.”

“Stop…”, you whimper quietly. 

“I feel like somehow she knows that. That’s why she’s saying that stuff about us choosing you because you’re everything she’s not. We wouldn’t change anything about you. Not one thing, princess. But we are so fucking scared of getting hurt again.”

“And we’re afraid of hurting you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair, honey?”

“Do you think trusting you was easy after what Holden did to me? I upended everything I knew to follow him and he broke my heart. I was terrified of starting over in any relationship let alone with two people but I got to know you and allowed myself to be vulnerable for you… you should be able to do that for me to.”

“You’re right, baby, and we are so sorry. We’re willing to try.”, Eddie pleaded as he leaned up to grab your hands. “We don’t even have to be in a relationship again or do anything sexual. We can start slow and go from there. We just miss you so much, Y/N. The way you smell, your sense of humor, the way you play with my hair when we’re lying in bed or watching tv.”

“The way you listen to us when we talk even if it’s about work.”, Steve chimes in. “Your cute little laugh and the way you wrap your arms around me like you haven’t seen me in years when it’s only been a few hours.”

“Ah good morning, gentlemen and my hung over child. How are we today?”, your mother teases as she grins your way. 

“We’re fine thank you but if you could lower your voice a smidge that would be nice.”, you sass back making her chuckle as both men grin softly. 

“Your dad made breakfast if you and your guests are hungry. Just don’t throw it up or you’ll hurt his feelings.”

You smile as you playfully wave her off before turning your attention back to them. 

“Do you have to go back home for work or anything?”

“No, ma’am. We’re all yours.”

“Unless you want us to go back home.”, Eddie adds with sad inflection in his voice hoping and praying that you don’t. 

“Ok… I’m going to change and then head downstairs. You, um, you should stay for breakfast. Knowing my father, if my mom told him you were staying he probably poisoned something but…I’m sure you’ll be fine.”, you joke as you get up and head towards your closet, tossing them a little wink before collecting some clothes and closing the bathroom door. 

####################

@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @nailbatanddungeon

[inkdrinkerworld]

hello!! i saw you were asking for more spencer x sunshine!reader requests and here i am!!

do you think you could do something where reader has chronic pain in her hips and walks with a limp most of the time, but once it gets super super cold it starts to hurt more so she has to use a cane..? it’s getting colder where i live so i’ve slowly had to start using my cane, but i always get embarrassed/insecure about using it in public so some days i go without and then immediately regret it!! haha

of course you don’t have to write this is you don’t want to!! i’m sure i have tons of other ideas up in my noggin haha. love you and take great care of yourself!! xxx

I hope you like this, I googled some aids for the pain so hopefully this is good and if there’s anything that’s wrong please please let me know

The groundhog lied, it’s snowing when it’s supposed to be sunny.

You should’ve known you would’ve been in pain all day when the night before when your hip started locking more and more.

Still, you dress for the weather and put on a pair of thermal tights under your navy dress suit. You can’t be bothered with pants.

You stare at your cane as you reach your front door, biting your lip as you deliberate.

On one hand, you could take it and ease the pain off your hip, or you could leave it and save the embarrassment you feel for needing it so young.

In a split second you make your decision, limping out the door without it.

You regret your decision to also wear kitten heels when you hobble into the bullpen, Spencer’s eyes immediately catching the uneven drift in your walk. He notices your easy outfit too, a pleated blue skirt with a breathable blue top to match, no blazer today.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing his desk and making his way over to you but you wave him off.

Spencer ignores that completely and reaches you in seconds, eyes assessing what you refuse to say.

“Spencer I’m fine, I just slept wrong.” It’s obvious he doesn’t believe you when he cocks an eyebrow. Spencer’s already noticed a slight lean to your walk, your very obvious limp and the way that your smile seems to border grimace.

His hands reach for hips as he closes the little gap between you.

“Oh aren’t you forward,” you smile through your words but Spencer knows there’s something different to your tone.

“Would you shush? It’s more swollen than it should be if you slept wrong.”

His brown eyes pin you and make it hard to lie to him as you stare him down. You want to ask how he knows it’s your hip, but he’s got a big, genius brain, it really was silly to think you could hide it from him.

“Spence, it’s okay.” You say, twisting out of his hands and hissing when you do so, your hip cracking at the motion. Tears prick your eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, come sit down.” He leads you to his chair, hands gentle as they touch your lower back and hip. “What’s going on with your hip, darling?”

You blame the way you just instantly open up about what you term your worst feature, to the fact that he’s dropped a pet name like that so casually.

“I suffer with my hip, flare ups mostly during winter and it’s chronic. I have a cane but it’s embarrassing to need one so young so I don’t use it and it hurts more but at least I have my independence.”

Spencer shakes his head, touching your cheek. “I know that’s how you feel, but if it’s cracking like this you at least need a balm if you don’t want the cane. Or I could get you compression pants for it.”

You scrunch your nose at the emotion suddenly building in your throat, “I do have a balm but the smell is too strong. Doesn’t go with my perfume.”

Spencer laughs, fully shaking his head at you. He thinks for someone so happy all the time, you shouldn’t worry half as much as you do. Certainly not about if your medicated balm will go with your perfume.

“Come with me,” he says, taking your bag from you and setting it on his shoulder.

“Where are we going? Mid morning pick me up? Rendezvous in the bathroom stall?” Your eyebrows dance and Spencer shakes his head, maneuvering his body so you’re leaning on him more than walking on your own.

“No, we’re going to the bathroom so you can apply more balm and then I’m going to your place to get your cane.”

You stop walking, heels cutting off with an abruptness, that if Spencer hadn’t been anticipating it you would’ve fallen from his grip.

“No Spence, it’s fine. I’m used to it.” He starts walking again, bringing you with him to the bathroom and sitting you on the sink’s edge.

“I know you are,” he rifles through your bag, grinning when he finds the tube of medicated balm. “But humor me for a moment and say it’s a little worse than usual, so you need it?”

You huff, “Can’t I just use the compression stuff?”

Spencer looks up, surprise lighting his eyes but a knowing, almost smug smile plays on his lips.

“Yeah?” He does a wicked evil thing by stroking the tops of your thighs and tilting his head just a little so some of his curls fall in his face.

“Spencer,” you push at his chest, grumbling when he laughs. He holds your palm to his chest, “I can do this part myself.”

“Promise you’ll actually apply the rub? I need to go out to get the compression pants.”

You shake your head, “I’ll get one after work Spence, the balm is enough.”

He doesn’t listen to you, “Apply the balm, I’ll be twenty minutes.”

You’re one hundred percent sure he takes Anderson with him to drive the SUV and is back in twenty minutes with two different pairs of compression pants, pain relievers and muscle relaxants.

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life.”

You stupid boy

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART FIVE

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Max and reader get an early scan to find out the gender… and at a private gender reveal, someone accidentally reveals all to the world.

Warnings: swearing, soft max, Google translate, NO PROOF READ!!

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (Your last name)

Word count: 2,356

A/N: We are finally back with maxieee 🫶🏼 I did rush- because I got so many ideas I’m sorry :(

“Dad-” picking my dress up I chased after him back up the steps towards the house, Max trailing right behind.

“Will you slow down-” watching each step I take, glancing up every so often.

“Your mother is not going to believe this!” Pointing his finger in the air… more like a wag really. Shaking his head he then reached the top of the garden, mum and Lando sitting on the garden furniture engrossed in conversation.

“But dad-” Max hand was pressed against my back- giving me the little support I need, our pace slowing down as we got closer to mum.

“Darling! You are not going to believe this.” By the random outburst, mum was quick to scan over us all making sure we was all okay.

“Dad-”

“No, your mother deserves to know!”

“Know what?” Confused she looked between us both.

“Who the father is!”

“Oh-”

“It’s Max!” Cutting her off, he turned his face glaring at Max.

“I know…” waving a hand in front of her she smiled over at Max.

“No no… not I know! This is the sleezeball I swore if I found I’d strangle him!” Turning his full attention now to Max.

“You won’t do nothing.” Stepping more infront of Max, I crossed my arms over my chest.

“He abandoned you Y/N!”

“We’re working on that.” Looking down at the floor, I shuffled a little under his gaze.

“Please dad… just be glad we know who it is right?”

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have ran away like I did-” stepping aside, Max moved closer to my dad.

“I was silly, and scared- and had a lot of things to be dealing with family wise…”

The silence was deafening… I was waiting for a punch up honestly- more my dad lunging on Max… I mean I didn’t have a great word to say about him when he left and my dad got the earful of it all.

“I’m really am sorry…”

“You should accept- Max doesn’t ever say sorry.” Looking over I shushed Lando shaking my head.

A loud sigh left my dad as he stepped back, if looks could kill. Well Max would be a goner.

“I do not forgive you for what you put my daughter through these past few months.”

Point a finger at Max, who was quickly nodding his head. “I haven’t forgiven myself yet-” he was agreeing with him, I finally was able to relax, moving over and sitting down next to Lando.

“But Y/N seems too.” Side eyeing me he then quickly looked back at Max.

“So I will tolerate you for the sake of my grand-baby.” Stomping off indoors he then turned back around on the patio.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be like this Max. Not to my little girl.” And then he hid away indoors… the silence growing sickly.

“Yay! The parents know.”

We all snapped our heads to Lando with a scowl, “Shut up” me and Max spoke in unison shaking our heads at him.

—

Before we had knew it- time flew by. I was officially 18 weeks pregnant, and Max was finally on summer break.

During that time- we had told drivers around the paddock- and made them swear to secrecy. Also- Max and Kelly had called it quits, behind closed doors she was absolutely furious I was having his baby… and I couldn’t blame her any woman would be.

Apart from them main events, nothing major happened- max was winning his races, helping look for good apartments in England. Overall he was fantastic… too fantastic that I’m on edge waiting for the moment he ups and leaves again… I shouldn’t think so low of him but can you blame me.

Dads grudge didn’t last long, he even took it upon himself to congratulate Max after every race win. Which was another worry off my shoulders.

“Y/N- come on, everyone is waiting on you.” Turning away from my mirror, I looked over at Max.

“I don’t look silly?” Eyes scanning over me, maybe lingering a little too long- he quickly cleared his throat.

“Not at all… you look amazing actually.” Nodding his head, his cheeks flushed a little red.

“Well you do scrub up well-” smiling I then moved past him tapping his arm.

Making my way out into the garden, a loud cheers erupted. A mixture of “there she is-” “Let’s get started!” “Where’s max”

“I’m here- I’m here.” Max hand found the bottom of my back as he followed behind.

And as always one by one people gave us both hugs and gifts. A few drivers were here, Lando obviously, Daniel, Charles, Carlos, Checo - yeah I was kinda surprised too, Nyck. It was full-

“Look how big you got!” Gesturing to my growing belly, my brows furrowed.

“I didn’t mean-” with wide eyes he waved infront of his mouth. “Charles I’m kidding-” smiling, laughing a little, I looked down at my belly.

“Bigger by the day- soon I’ll be waddling like a penguin.” Laughing also, Charles looked over at Max who was in the corner speaking with his mum.

“How’s Max been with it all?” Looking over at Max also, I hummed.

“It’s been an experience so far that’s for sure.” Smiling again, nudging Charles shoulder.

“Wouldn’t be Max if it wasn’t somewhat eventful, right?” Agreeing with me, he smiled again.

“What we talking about?” Carlos slid in joining our conversation. He was wearing a pink badge, pink wrist band, pink sash- pink everywhere.

“Oh hi Barbie.” Widening my eyes, I stepped back getting a full glance at him.

“Mate, you think it’s going to be a boy?” Charles laughed a little, also looking him up and down.

“No… a girl-” pointing at the pink badge, with furrowed brows.

“His pulling your leg Carlos.” Rolling my eyes playfully, which only caused Carlos to tut.

“Where did you find all that anyways?”

“On the table over there-”

Charles looked around before patting Carlos back “thanks mate-” , before running after the table of accessories. Shaking my head at him, I looked back at Carlos.

“So your thinking girl huh-” nodding my head a little, taking a sip of my drink.

“I knew it as soon as use told us, I just had to look at you and knew it was a girl.” Nodding his head sure of himself.

“What are you thinking?” Humming I looked back down at my belly, “is it bad I have no idea…”

“Of course not! Makes it more fun right?”smiling Carlos touched my arm in a comforting manner leaving me alone, sighing I looked around before making my way to Max.

“Hi girls!” Smiling wide, I was brought into a tight hug from Sophie- followed by Victoria.

“Hey you, how’s the baby been?” Smiling wide, Sophie reached her hand out touching the baby bump.

“Nothing new… still morning sickness- the doctor gave me some anti-sickness tablets, but there as much use as a chocolate kettle.” Rolling my eyes, my frown soon replaced with a smile.

“Buttt, baby is all healthy so why should I complain!” Max smiled throwing an arm around my shoulders.

“Shall we get the reveal going?” Nodding my head enthusiastically, he lead us over to the display he had arranged to be set up- as always with max go big or go home.

“Right everyone- just before we do this.” Everyone’s attention was drawn to Max, even mine, I told you his like a magnet!

“We do ask that if you want to take photos you can! But please keep them to yourselves- we don’t want anything on social media, not until we are ready.” Looking around at everyone he raised his eyebrows “understood?” A few nods and yes’s were heard around the group.

“Oh who has my mum and dad?” Glancing between them all, Lando then waved his phone- “their on FaceTime.” Smiling wide I waved at the camera before looking up at Max.

“You ready?” Breathing out a big breath I smiled reassuringly at him.

“Weirdly enough I’m terrified.” Taking his hand, agreeing with him we both turned to everyone.

“Countdown from three-”

“3-”

”2-”

”1-”

With a tight squeeze to his hand, everyone looked up at the sky…

And there it was painted in blue smoke.

Once again the garden filled with shouts of excitement.

“We’re having a boy-” without hesitation Max picked me up into his arms, jumping on the spot a little before setting me down. He clearly didn’t know what to do with himself… me? I was in shock-

“Oh my- we’re having a boy…” my hands came up to rub my temple- a wide smile broke out onto my face- the realisation finally setting in, I was quick to hug Max once again.

“Max we’re having a boy…” maybe it’s the hormones I don’t know- but the tears spilled once again- all I am lately is just a blubbering mess. I mean the other day I cried because the size of baby socks… baby socks!

“We are schat.” (Darling) Rubbing my back soothingly, he placed a delicate kiss to the top of my head- soon our little bubble was popped.

“And you thought it was going to be a girl!” Charles laugh was then heard and when everyone turned and looked he had a finger pointed at Carlos, bent over slightly. “Mate you look so silly.” Shaking my head at him a little smile on my face I looked up at Max. “These are your friends?” Shaking his head quickly, a smile also on his face. “I don’t even know them.”

Glancing back over I watched Lando bringing my mum and dad over, (on the phone of course), Sophie and Victoria with the two boys now slowly making their way over with wide smiles.

Another mini max… the world really isn’t ready.

Once congratulated- Waving byes to my parents, I blew them a kiss ending the phone and giving it back to Lando.

He pocketed his phone and then hugged me tight. “I’m so happy for you.” Leaning back he dragged max away from his family bringing him in the hug.

“And you- I’m so happy for you both.” Squeezing him tight, we all slipped away, me and max doing our rounds.

“Bet he feels like a boy now?” Smiling up at Carlos, who had his arms outstretched pulling me into a tight hug. “Congratulations!”

Smiling wide I pulled back, “thank you, and strangely enough… yeah.” Laughing a little I looked down at the tiny bump and back over at max.

“Think his happy?”

Carlos followed where I was looking, Max was grinning ear to ear, retelling how he felt when he see blue for the third time already.

“I would say so.” Laughing a little I then left him be, Charles now finding me. “I knew it!” Shaking my head with a smile, he then hugged me tight. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, you know I thought you was thinking girl by what your wearing.” Leaning back I looked at all the blue items.

“No… I’m wearing blue.” Shaking my head once again, I laughed a little “I’m now pulling your leg Charles.”

“Oh- I’m stupid.” Laughing along with me, Max then slid at our side. “You both okay?”

Nodding our heads charles patted max on the shoulder saying congratulations to him again before leaving us be.

“How are you feeling?” Subconsciously he raised the back of his hand to my forehead, before brushing some loose strands back… I couldn’t help gazing up at him- I’ll be honest them feelings never go away- the butterfly’s in my stomach, the blushed cheeks when his nearby… I couldn’t help it my body seemed to call out for him.

“Still in shock-" laughing a little, max smiled in return. “I can’t believe we’re having a boy…” whispering between us both like it was our own little secret.

“Truthfully I can’t believe we’re having a kid.” Max rose his hand to his chest taking a step back. “I’m going to pretend that didn’t hurt.” Rolling my eyes with a smile, I found my hand reaching for his forearm. Like I needed to be touching him somehow.

What is wrong with me…

—

Truthfully I couldn’t tell you what happened at the rest of the gender reveal, all I know is now, me and max are laying on the floor in his apartment going through baby names already.

My head was rested against his arm, my legs kicked up onto the sofa. Max was laying outstretched listening to me reel off names.

“Okay what aboutttt… Charlie?” In response a loud groan came from max.

“No that reminds me of Charles.” Laughing a little I flicked the page of the book scanning through.

“What about… Micky?”

“Like the mouse?”

“That’s off the table-” rolling my eyes at him even though he couldn’t see me.

“I like the ‘Mmm’ though- for the first letter.” Humming in agreement with him, I scanned the pages more.

“What about Milo-”

I dropped the book backwards, tilting my head back to see max, who seemed in deep thought.

“I like Milo…” smiling up at him I sat myself up, turning to face him.

“Milo… Emilian”

“You want my middle name?” Max also sat up, resting on his hand, keeping him propped, I nodded my head slightly.

“If that’s okay with you…?”

Enthusiastically he nodded his head in return. “I think it’s simply lovely.” Bursting out into laughter we both fell back into laying positions, my head now laid against his stomach.

“Another MEV.” The silence was loud-

“V?”

“Verstpapen.” Whispering just loud enough that he could hear me.

“Are you sure?”

“More positive than a pregnancy test…” both laughing a little, his hand reached down touching my cheek.

“Thank you-”

“You-” I was cut off by both mine and Max phones blowing up.

Both looking at each other we could only wonder what’s going down now…

I had millions of notifications from more instagram- when I clicked on. I felt my stomach drop.

“Max are you seeing this…” looking up at him, he only nodded his head slightly.

“I’m gonna kill him…”

Lando Norris posted to his story

—

Masterlist

[morganbritton132]

Do you think Eddie and Steve have ever fallen victim to the weird trend of people calling the police to ‘save’ famous people? Like some fans of his tiktok became convinced Steve was holding him hostage after making 2+2=5 when they googled up Billy’s name

This is such an interesting question because I could see it going both ways.

There are always going to be people that look at Eddie and see wanted posters. There are people who will never be convinced that he didn’t commit those murders, and they’re only ever going to see a victim in Steve because of it.

Steve is clumsy. He has a head injury and issues with balance, and sometimes he gets confused. Sometimes he gets bruised. He’s cut his hand in the middle of a seizure and needed stitches. He’s broken his ankle and walked on it for an entire day.

Sometimes nurses and doctors see his injury and see his medical history, and then they see the scruffy guy calling himself his husband, and they ask him to step outside the room. They ask Steve questions and it always takes him a second to realize what they’re trying to get at because domestic abuse is not something that he can attach to Eddie in any capacity.

And Steve will get angry about it. How dare they think such a thing? How could they look at Eddie and see how much love he holds in his heart and think that he would ever hurt Steve?

 

I think that Eddie is always going to have some fans that see Steve as this bad guy that does not deserve to be with him. There is nothing that he will ever do that can change that. They are just angry that Eddie is with someone other than them.

I can definitely see them hearing about all the bad shit that went down in Hawkins and seeing Steve’s connection to some of it – The coverup story for Starcourt paints Robin and Steve as two dedicated retail employees that saved a bunch of children from a fire – and then take that extra step to twist it into something so much worse.

The kid that went missing in Hawkins in 1983 just so happened to be the little brother of the guy that stole Steve’s high school girlfriend? That’s interesting. That’s suspicious.

And his high school bully (that he apparently hit with a car!) just so happened to die in a fire at his place of work? Weird.

And despite the fact that the police and an angry mob couldn’t find Eddie, Steve Harrington – a video rental employee – happened to find him?

You pair the horror story that was Hawkins in the eighties up with Eddie’s scars and all the off-hand jokes people have made on live-streams about Steve’s sleepwalking, or with Steve’s reactions to being scared and you can make a convincing case for anything.

Eddie ends a live-stream early one night at Steve’s request and then an hour later, they’re getting a knock on the door by two police officers doing a welfare check.

Steve and Eddie are obviously confused, and Steve is really disheartened when one of the officers lets it slip that the person calling was concerned because of a live-stream.

It puts a damper on the date night he’d set up for them in the living room and he doesn’t really want to continue it after the cops leave. Eddie tries to find the bright side of the situation, “Babe, it’s nothing. It’s not like it’ll be in the papers.”

“They think I hurt you,” Steve says. “They – your fans think that I would – that I’d ever – and they’re not wrong, technically. I have hurt you before.”

“And I nearly cut your throat with a broken glass bottle,” Eddie replies, ignoring the way Steve scoffs at him. “Anything that you’ve ever done because you were confused or lost in your head, or sleepwalking doesn’t count. You weren’t all here and it’s not your fault if you aren’t aware of what you’re doing, right? And anyways, I’m typically bothering you.”

“You’re blaming yourself for me hurting you?”

“No, I’m – No. I’m not,” Eddie clarifies. “I am saying that I don’t always come into the situation knowing what’s going on and sometimes I make it worse. Sure, I’ve gotten a bit of a hit. You kick in your sleep. But you have never hurt me.”

“Is it El’s fault when the cabinets rattle when she has a nightmare?” Eddie continues because it’s clear that Steve does not agree with him. “Or that time she got so scared that all the lightbulbs shattered? You got cut when that happened, remember? You have a scar. Is that her fault?”

“That’s different. She can’t-“

“And neither can you,” Eddie says. “I’m telling you now, Stevie. You know what my life was like before I moved in with Wayne. I will never be in a situation like that again. So, if I was than I would not be here, but I am here because you have never done anything to hurt me, okay?”

[jolapeno]

i. fairy lights

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter one of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. “You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant.."

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, smut, angst. no use of y/n, mild use of a codename for story purposes. wordcount: 5k authors notes: this would have remained in my google drive if it wasn't for the sheer love, listening ears and heart of both @yeyinde and @guyfieriii - every bit of sass is written for you.

series masterlist

Your eyes studied him. Peered through the half-open blinds, trying to assess at what stage you should go in—make your introductions. You’d hung back, not wanting to fawn like the others, needing to know if the man they placed on such a high shelf really deserved to be raised amongst the rest of you. 

Because you knew what he had done. You’d heard the whispers, the gossip—even if they tried to keep a lid on it. 

“Here.” 

Your eyes are pulled to a tall shadow, finding no smile—no smirk. Face entirely void of emotion. The coffee in his hand presented to you, your fingers obediently wrapping it, narrowing your eyes at the person in front of you. 

“From your favourite place.” 

The smirk falls easily over your lips. “What did you do, Van Ness?” 

It’s then he smiles—almost smirks. The two so closely woven together that you aren’t entirely sure where joy and torture truly begin. “I may or may not have fucked your filing system—but in my defence, I’m not the only one.” 

“I’m aware.”

“You met him yet?” he asked, nodding his head towards the office you’re stationed outside. “The new Attaché.”

“No, and do you not have work to be doing, Dan?” 

He shrugs, placing his cup down before leaning both palms on your desk, moving closer and closer. You watch as his smirk begins to cut into more of his features, almost being allowed to greet his eyes.

“This is for Fiestl’s sake—and the new pair of eyes studying us. The former thinks you’re seeing someone.” 

Mirroring him, you bring the coffee to your lips, leaning forward as then noted and the taste explodes across your tongue. “Lemme guess, you’re enjoying watching Chris squirm?” 

“Do you blame me?”

“No. Not really.”

You command him to look up when you walk through his office door. Your knock barely meets his ears before you’re there, stalking into his office with your hands full of files, papers and a single notebook.

He hears you murmur about not wanting to interrupt, but Javi doesn’t believe you.

Because of the sly smirk carved into your cheeks. The way you’re standing boldly in front of his desk, not giving him any indication that you’re not standing exactly where you want to be, at the time you wanted to. 

Your name falls from your tongue like it’s supposed to be blessing the air. As though you’re doing him a favour by informing him of it—not that it mattered.

He’d already learnt your name. That, and the name you’re so often called around the office—the one no one has yet explained to him. 

Now that you’re here, not restricted by half-open blinds and glass, he can look at you fully. He can run his eyes up and down your frame, not just admire your side profile. You’re pretty is what he thinks. Likely knows it from the way you don’t cower under his gaze, but rather thrive under it. He bets you act like you’re made of glass, when you’re in fact made of steel—that you’re used to making others feel better about their inadequacies than owning the fact you’re good.

You stand straight, not extending your hand out across his desk to him—telling him, without using your words, you’re not really here to make introductions. 

It almost pulls a smile from him. Your obvious indifference is welcomed after the sea of interviews he feels he’s had with the rest of the department.  It’s clear you’re not here to fawn, to interrogate him—you don’t even appear to be impressed he was half the reason Escobar was taken down.

Your eyes are still on him—piercing, digging themselves in as you continue to speak. They pierce, both your words and your sight, back remaining as diligently straight, words tumbling and falling from your lips into sentences he’s not even processing. 

Javi suspects you know he isn’t listening.

Holding yourself in a way that tells him this is a process, more than kindness. Your impassiveness growing, fermenting in the lack of interruption from him—and he welcomes it, almost craves it. So drained from shaking hands and listening to pester him for a scrap of information—an insight they’ve not read from a newspaper. 

You, without meaning to, provide a semblance of normality as you continue to talk. 

Shifting, he moves to lean on the sideboard behind him, keeping his eyes trained on you, noting how you’re American, but your vowels are tinged with the tone of someone who has been here too long. He hangs off of them, the inflictions, the oddities in the way you speak certain words. 

He shouldn’t. 

Javi has already woken up beside a colleague—an intern. Had already failed his promise to himself he made on the plane over, that this time would be different. 

And, here he is, dragging his eyes up and down your frame—noting things about you that are irrelevant, not listening. 

“--I’ve made notes, which I’ve tabbed for you. Just in case you decided to stop listening.”

You lift your eyes from your notes, and it’s different than when you’d first stalked in. They’re softer, their piercingness lost—vanished, as if you’d never tried to dig them into him—dousing him something akin to cool water on a stifling day. 

For the single, briefest second, he’s lost to the world around him. He’s falling, tumbling into them—losing his grip on morals and right from wrong as you just watch him. Not knowing how you’re basking him in light, sunshine and fucking serenity. 

A sight he’d never expected in his office, never mind in his presence. 

He clears his throat, Crosby’s words coming to him—rotating around and around. It’ll be different this time. By the book. Javi knows he has to make amends for what happened before. Even if it means having to follow orders, keep himself to himself—not fuck a subordinate again. Leave with his head held high, determination strong, impenetrable—

“Did you get all of that?” 

The air around you both tenses, constricting. 

It almost cracks, suddenly pulled to the point it’s making it hard to breathe. His mind is trying to latch to words, but just keeps replaying your entrance—how you stormed in like a hurricane, sweeping everything to the sides and leaving only you. The air shifts under the pressure, poisoned with patchouli and amber, a scent he cannot help but continue to inhale as it tries to stick to the walls—to the inside of him. 

Your eyes change again, sharpening—pitchforks at the ready as though you’ve already built him a stake to burn him on. Them trying to needle into him, undoing the carefully stitched threads that are working hard to keep him together. He equally tries to carve something out of you, work behind the layers, walls and forced aloofness. 

That’s when he finds it—hidden under carefully placed truths and hidden lies: hope. 

His heart descends, spluttering in annoyance. Because people pin that to him more than anything else. They assume he’s the answer—the centre of something big, important. A beacon they’ve all been waiting for, the one who can slay the biggest monsters and undo the greatest of crimes.

He feels it. 

How they say they wrap him in armour, but actually weigh him down in expectations. 

He moves his index and middle finger in the same pattern against his thumb. A slow rotation once, before moving it the other way twice. The pain in his head continued to throb, to pulse—his free hand rubbing that spot on his forehead. 

“I can repeat the basics, if that would be easier?” 

Your voice is like syrup—dripping into his ears, yet they’re not sticking. They’re clumping, forming somewhere between his ears and not filing themselves where they’re supposed to be. 

He can’t find the word no, or thank you. Unsure as he looks at you, how to explain this isn’t your words, but everything else. That there’s something sitting on his chest—has been since Escobar. That it lies there, dormant, waiting. 

“Sir…” 

He snorts, both at the way you say his title and that you’re the billionth person to call it him. Suddenly realising, knowing that the reason he cannot find the word no or thank you, is because they’re not the words he truly wants to say. Javi wants to say that he can’t take in your words because the floor is slipping away, his blood is bubbling nervously in his ears, heart and throat. 

Swallowing, he meets your eyes, wondering if you know that he feels like he’s drowning and yet he’s on land. While the ground feels and appears tough, firm and solid, it’s sliding under it—back to the flames he baptised himself in last time. The licks of fire singeing the edges of his skin.

Mainly, Javi wants to tell you that your to-do list that’s bigger than even you… he’s not sure what to do with any of it. 

You step closer, heels echoing in the small space as you slam the files on his desk—a piece of ripped paper capturing his attention. Your handwriting, all swirls and legible letters—not the writing of a man or another idiot in this place. Not able to pull himself away from it until he feels your fingers on his bicep, tight but soft in nature. 

“Breathe.”

You whisper it, let it greet the air with more kindness than you’ve shown since you burst into his office. Your thumb draws a triangle shape against his jacket, as you repeat the one word again. 

“What?”

Javi doesn’t mean to spit it—to let it hit the air harshly and questioningly. He doesn’t mean to be blunt or direct, shattering your softness and mellow tone. 

You pull your hand back all the same, but your face doesn’t shift—doesn’t change—and you also don't move. 

“Take a breath,” you say, in a tone devoid of any emotion. “You… look like you need it. And, I know I reeled off a lot there, but we’ll find ways.” 

Eyes full of something he can’t place—like knowing, experience and grief. Your unspoken words slide into his mind without needing to speak them. 

“We because you and I, we’re going to find ways around problems. I’m not Stoddard, and I’m not one of the idiots out there, Agent Peña.”

His pulse quickens, especially when you take a step back, pulling a piece of paper from the top of the pile before placing it more firmly in front of his chair. More in view, if he were to lean forward.

“I cannot put a vest on and leave these walls to do your bidding, but I can do a fucking lot inside these walls. With sheer will and a sharp tongue. This is what I’ll do for you. I’m the one who does your grunt work, so you can make the difference; I’m the one who’ll take the mountain of shit first, so you can make that difference. I’ll hold up the goddamn walls, Peña. You just have to tell me what street and what number. Whatever you need me for, I am here. So, breathe.” 

Your words almost make him crack—make him believe for a second that what you said was true. 

But, Javi knows better—has seen so much.

He’s played the game, seen the deceit wrapped in kindness, and been spat out because of it. 

“Alright…”

You nod, shifting your weight, watching you be lulled into a false sense of security—wondering if your walls are down enough for him to see a real answer on your face as he asks:

“Answer me this, Agent. What did they give you?”

It’s instant—the way you flinch. Small, likely not visible to most. 

Truthfully, it catches him by surprise, not expecting it. Having spent a large chunk of time around people who hold secrets, he’s not seen that one happen before. Not so quickly, not so naturally it flitters and is removed before he can truly take notice of it. 

Regret bathes him. Falls in heavy buckets from the ceiling down onto him, and he stuffs the feeling down under his suit and faultily-thrown-up ego. 

Even if the words to take it back are so easily there, readily available to be spoken—

“Not a glass prison,” you reply, words as sharp as knives.

Your back straightens again, face unreadable as you snatch your notebook from the files, the soles of your shoes making their exit before you pause, giving him one last look. 

“I’ll be at my desk, Sir.”

You don’t slam the door back into place, but rather cautiously slide it until he’s alone, lifting your chin, eyes holding his. 

Fuck.

Blanketed in low light and the soft twinkles of the bar’s fairy lights, Javi spots you immediately. 

Your jacket is removed, hanging limply from the barstool you’re sitting on, swirling the crystal glass, sloshing the liquid and ice inside of it. 

It’s instant—the twist of guilt in his stomach. 

He’s tried to speak to you. Tries to find ways to apologise without as much as saying it. But, you’re good. If he tries to ask you about work, you are nothing short of professional. Calling him sir, fetching what he needs and handing him notes—needling yourself further into his guilt. 

Outside of those moments, when he’d offered you coffee, you’d simply lifted your full mug without as much as meeting his eye. He had even tried to beat you into work, only to find you already there, your desk lamp being all that illuminated the office as you tore through files and mumbled a brief morning. 

The only benefit to your ignorance towards him is he’s been able to watch how soft you could be—how you smile with ease and how gentle your voice could be with those that aren’t him. He’d been able to watch the dynamics of the people who approach you, a taller one making you smirk and a more blonder man able to make your back straighter than he can. 

It’s also allowed him to peer under the hard exterior and defensive tone, and learn more about you from others.

Luna. That’s what they call you—a callsign, codename. A reference to your last operation in Cali before you forced yourself to be on desk work. A name chosen by you, they said—now one you fit so perfectly. One with the night, never sleeping, never leaving the office. 

Now, you’re here. 

Haunting him out of work as you are his work life. If he had known you drank here, he’d have grabbed a bottle and drank alone in his apartment. Not caring for the uptempo music and the fact others stare at him. 

He knows he’s giving more to Colombia than he ever should have—both fractions of his soul and his pride, as well as pieces of his future. The notion forces him to undo his tie as he walks over, letting his tie hang as he slides his jacket off—trying not to fixate on you. 

Even in the low lighting, he sees your perfectly manicured nails and the way your lips slide into a smirk. You roll your wrist as he slides into the chair beside you, amber and ice swirling with your motions—likely making a rhythmic noise if not for the loud music. 

We’re going to find ways around problems. 

“Evening… Sir.” 

He’d found your file, and read the pieces he was able to. He knows a redacted file when he sees one, but the main points are still there—still bold in pressed ink and serif. 

Javi smirks, both at the fact you still haven’t looked at him and the fact he can’t get used to being called sir. Least of all when it falls from your lips—a hidden note to it when you let it leave your tongue. Mouth curling around each letter as you let it float to his ears. 

It’s almost torturous when you say it—just like your perfume has grown to be. Hanging heavy in the air when he walks through, giving him hints of where you are, where you’ve been. He’s also been able to discern vanilla is another element to it, mind flicking to you when he smells a note from your perfume. 

He knows he’d be able to work out the other notes if he allowed himself to. Be able to work out which ones are all you and which you soak your skin in. 

You bring the glass to your lips, draining the liquid down your throat before placing it between the two of you, taking the hint.

“Same again?”

Nodding—direct and clinical, just like a well-trained agent. “Por favor.”

There’s a story. One which goes deep or goes high, he hasn’t quite worked it out. Knowing there has to be a reason for so much to have been removed and a reason why someone as talented as you has been saddled to a desk. If he were more drinks in, he’d ask. Bite the bullet, use his lack of tact to make you angry until you’re bursting at the seams, spilling all of your treasured truths. 

You don’t look at him until your glass is full, and then your eyes meet his, placing him under a spotlight. Illuminating him, making him glow as you make his skin warm and his shirt clings more to his spine. No words leave your lips as you bring the glass back up, taking the smallest sip as you smirk—letting the silence thicken. 

She’s good. Talented.

That’s what he’s been told by Crosby. No further explanation, moving quickly on. 

“You have secrets.” 

You laugh, harsh and short. “Oh, don’t we all. I know a lot about yours.”

“You gonna start calling me a hero too, Luna?”

Pursing your lips, your eyes narrow briefly. He watches as your head tilts, eyes not sharpening or changing, but something in you does. Likely to do with the name—the codeword. The one they used when you were down in Cali to refer to you. 

“I wouldn’t waste my breath telling you something you don’t believe.” You let the words hang, brew and fizz. “You don’t get to call me that, either.”

You take a long sip, rolling your lips together as he brings his own to his lips. He coats his tongue in it, attempting to smother the growing anxiousness embedding itself into his bones. Because there’s something about the way you stare at him, how it makes things unlodge and shift inside of him. 

“You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant and I’m not half as impressed by you as Katie, the intern.” 

He tenses, visibly. Not able to hide it, bury it. He doesn’t miss the tone, the way you say it with brimstone and annoyance. The hair along his neck standing on edge as you continue to stare, to dig into him. 

“What… here all of one day and you already managed to fuck the intern. My hero.” 

His cheeks burn, draining his glass as the whiskey does a good job of burning his insides. Hating how you know—how you’re unafraid of lifting a mirror to show him his failings. He despises that you know the edges of him, pierces—the worst parts of him. 

Mainly, he dislikes that you’re smirking, sipping your glass as though taking a victory sip. A checkmate. 

“I sat next to you because I thought you’d cause me the least amount of issues.”

Smirking broader, you tilt your head. “You clearly don’t know me then, Peña.”

“No, Luna. I don’t.”

Placing his glass down, slowly rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. Regretting coming here, regretting thinking he could… 

“I’m sorry. For… the other day. For upsetting you now.”

You lean back, something between the two of you shifting as he watches you sigh. The music changes, slowing, almost quietening. “I’m a bit impressed you know that word.”

He almost laughs. Letting the thick silence thrum between the two of you, resting his elbow on the bar’s counter as he watches you play with your glass.

Clearing your throat, you refuse to meet his eyes as you ask, “It’s likely the whiskey… but, you doing okay, Sir?” 

He watches as you roll your finger across the rim, occasionally glancing at him, but never meeting his eyes. 

Something he suddenly wants—desperate to earn the sight of them. 

“Less of the ‘sir’.”

It’s then he hears you laugh. Low, smothered by faux indifference, compared to the usual you so easily muster. 

“The barrel—barrels—they have you over… i get it. I meant what I said, Javier. If you need an ear,” you say, fingers flexing across the counter as you meet his gaze. “You’re not the only one, to be fucked by bureaucracy—is all I mean. But, you likely know that, right? Heard all about me, and my failings. Have to if you’re calling me my cover name.”

He swallows, watching your chin dip, eyes falling to your lap.

“They make you feel like you’re it, and then just as easily they’ll rip it from you—and you’re left with… nothing.” 

It fluctuates—changes—some shadow of truth emerging from the depths between them as it stands before them both, almost warningly, but not threatening. He can’t understand it, can’t read it fully, but knows it’s there. 

And then you smile, vanishing it all away as you offer him your name again. 

As though you hadn’t already handed it to him, as if he hadn’t already committed it to memory and tried it on his tongue. 

“--just in case you didn’t listen to me before.” “I listened.”

Your lips curl. “Yeah? That before or after you checked out my ass?”

He says nothing, taking your glass and draining it. 

“Don’t call me Luna.”

“Why, you hate it or something?”

You say nothing for a moment before you turn to the bartender—ordering them both another drink. 

He finds you taste like heaven and hell all at once. 

You burn him, consume him—desperately trying to rip through him. He’d let you. Aid you in shredding him apart as long as your sweet, full lips remain pressed to his. They pull him from self-deprecation and overwhelmingness, gripping your waist as he gets you inside his place, pressing your spine against the inside of his door as you let out that honeyed whimper he heard outside the bar. 

You taking me to yours, Peña? Can do.  Don’t pretend you’ve not been thinkin’ it for the last hour. 

One of your arms slings around his neck, eyes full of molten fire and lust as you capture his lips. Pressing yourself roughly against his body, allowing him to pull you so flush he feels the buttons of your blouse against him. 

Before we do this—you clean? Yes, I’m fucking clean. Just checking. I don’t know where you’ve been, Peña. Get in the car. 

The moment halts, pauses. It breathes between you, all set to unravel as your eyes ghost over him, breath merging with his as he stares at you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your lips curl into a smile, one he strokes with his thumb. “Thank you, Sir.”

Fuck. That word. It drips from your tongue to his ear and down to his cock. His lips messily meeting yours, every other touch precise and well-versed, as though the two of you have done this before together. The movements are painted together by moans and whimpers, a part of him sliding back into place as clothes—both yours and his—fall to the floor in the wake of him getting you to his bed. 

He runs his thumb over your blouse-covered peak, his teeth running down your neck to a spot which makes your nails dig into the back of his head. Your other hand is on his spine, fingers sprayed as he moves you elegantly around the furniture like it’s a dance and not ruination. 

Then your lips find him again, pulling him up, teeth slightly nibbling at his bottom lip. You kiss him like you’re breathing life into him—trying to awaken parts of him stolen months ago. Pity, guilt and an array of other things are all smothered by the way your tongue slides past his teeth. Your fingers are busy in their pursuit, the clanging of metal undoing hammers into the air as his trousers ease from his hips. 

“Thought you were harder to sleep with.”

Your laugh blends with a moan as he presses you against the wall outside his room, hand snaking inside your underwear. 

The fabric cuts into his palm, sliding two fingers into your slick as you clench around him—enveloping him, coating him in your want and need. 

He waits for the back-pedalling for you to tell him something egotistical like others usually do. Only, you don’t. 

“Took pity… fuck—on you. Seemed like—oh, fuck—you need this.” Your hand clutches his cheek, eyes burning into his as your lips try to capture his, just about ghosting, the sensation of it almost making his move against the air. “Plus… thought you’d be better than my—oh, Peña—fingers… Sir.” 

He emits a groan which comes from somewhere at the back of his throat. It makes him crash his mouth to yours, fingers twisting to find the spot that makes your knees weaken. He tastes the whiskey and the mint you’d popped on your tongue when they’d left the bar. 

He smells your perfume, noticing how it wraps around him, digging its claws into him, smearing over his skin. 

“Wanna taste you…”

You clench your walls around his fingers, nails digging into his cheek and waist as you stare, slowly nodding. 

Not allowing you to change your mind, he frees his hand from your underwear, picking you up, kicking the door of his bedroom open as he takes in the small yelp from the sudden movements. 

It’s not until you’re lay against his sheets, eyes coating him in a potion mixed of lust, pleasure and need, swirling shades all around him he couldn’t begin to name, does he really take notice of how fucking beautiful you are. He’d seen it, noted it—but hadn’t allowed himself to truly appreciate it, something he began making up for as he slowly drops to his knees, pulling you a little closer. 

You watch him watch you, chest rising and falling before him. 

“Javi,” he breathes as he hooks a thumb on either side of your underwear, beginning to slide it down your thighs. “That’s what you should call out when I make you come on my tongue.” 

He places a kiss to the inside of your knee as you moan, discarding your underwear before hooking your legs over his shoulders—noticing how wet you are, allowing his breath to dance over it, purposefully blowing it as your hips wiggle in both desperation and apprehension. 

“You have to earn that,” you murmur, missing your usual confidence as he stares at you through his lashes. “Sir.”

He smirks, and then he devours you. Tongue flattening against you at first before he plunges it inside of your folds, tasting you—tasting how much you’ve wanted him since your eyes had begun flicking from his lips to his eyes. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, hearing you—a chorus of please, Peña,  fuck and—

Javi. 

After a night of Peña and a day of sirs—it’s bliss. His name falling from your lips makes him rock his hips for friction. Makes him want to halt his plans to have you come on his tongue, and instead bury himself to the hilt inside of you. 

But there’s time. 

He knows this. Wants this. He wants to take you apart with the same tongue that made you mad. He wants to apologise with the mouth which went too far. He wants to know what your pleasure truly tastes like and commit each note of it to his taste buds. 

You lose it when he sucks lightly on your bundle of nerves, swiping his tongue in slow and quick circles one way, and then the other— “Fuck, Javi. Please—please, fuck—let me…”

He grins. Plunging his fingers back inside of you, curling them, letting them meet that spot he discovered earlier, that he now wants to conquer. Feeling how tight you are, how soaked. How each movement makes a sound which blends with the sound of your pleas—a compilation he wouldn’t ever let be taken from him. A sound he’s happy to burn into his brain. 

Each movement takes you closer to the edge. Your nails carve through his hair, digging into his scalp as his name falls and falls in a mixture of moans. 

He swirled his tongue in a way which makes your hips buck, and he grips you tightly, not letting you move from it until you were breaking, snapping—

The sound you emit sprays across the walls of his bedroom, his tongue lapping up every drop you’ll give him—ears taking in each infliction and sound you bestow on him. 

“Fuck,” you say when you come down, all breathy and sweet.

Fuck, he thinks. Swiping his fingers across his chin, licking you from them as you pull him up from between your legs, kissing him—tasting yourself on him as he grasps her cheek and jaw, falling against the sheets with you.

“Need you.”

“Sí?”

You smirk, all devious and devilish—sliding your leg over his as he grips your hip—digging his thumb into your skin as you whisper in Spanish:

Ruin me. 

He halts, letting the words circle as you bite your lip, rolling your hips against him—knowing he was going to do just that. Over and over again. Savour each moan of yours until even in the morning, before responsibilities and rights and wrongs sneak back in, he would need you again.

Except, Javi doesn’t wake up with you beside him in the morning. 

He wakes up alone, bed sheets cold—and something akin to disappointment fluttering in his chest: you left.

Briefly, he wonders if it's karma. Another arrow to his knee, a mirror confronting him of his past mistakes. Because, he shouldn’t be bothered that you left—preferring to avoid mess and complication.

But it stung. It irked him. Because usually, it was he who did the leaving, not the woman he had just slept with. 

chapter two ->

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 10.5 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Brothers

Summary: Commander Core has a duty to perform.

Tags: No smut this chapter, just some feels.

Warnings: Sad feelings.

Notes: Is this bridge chapter longer than it normally is? Yes. Does a bitch give a kriff? No. Eat it up, beebees.

Also - a "dear clone" message is equivalent to a 'dear john' letter. If you aren't sure what that is, ask the Google.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10 Part 10.5

THEN

Commander Core swirls his amaretto sour in his glass, watching the residue left in cylindrical waves slowly fall back down the sides. He mentally plays the conversation from earlier for the umpteenth time in the last 2 hours.

“Oh, Core! Its good to see you! I…I didn’t think I’d see you after my message.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked, wanted to surprise you! Didn’t want to waste any of my shore leave.”

“Oh…while I love the sentiment, that makes this part harder.”

“Baaaabe?”

“Just a second!”

“Oh, ah, I…I see.”

“I’m sorry, Core, you mean a lot to me, but… you did preface this with how you can’t be in a relationship…”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m… happy for you.”

“Core.”

“No, its… its alright. I understand. I’ll… just be going then.”

“I’ll see you around 97’s?”

“Yeah, of course. When I’m planetside. Have a good night.”

He grunts to himself. What a weird thing to say to someone. "See you around 97s", what the hell for? He sighs, setting down his glass. Yeah, he was salty... he had really liked the guy. But... he HAD been the one to keep the distance - it just didn't make sense with a war going on. And its not like they couldn't still know each other, have a friendship without the benefits. Right?

He runs a hand down his face, trying to smooth away this painful confusion. This was all so new to him- sex and feelings, romance, love. And he didn’t have many brothers around him who understood from his perspective. Most of them were attracted to women.

Maybe it wasn’t that different? Maybe-

“Man trouble?”

Core looks up as a hand claps down on his shoulder, a brief glance at the five tattooed on the clone's right temple bringing a smile to his face.

“Like only a soldier can have.”

“A “dear clone” message, huh? I’m sorry, Commander. That’s not an easy thing to move through.”

Core saluted him with a drink and a small shrug. It was common enough to have earned a name. Didn’t make it any easier. 

Fives waves at the bartender, indicating a drink for himself and another for Core, settling into his seat as he glances around the room. Core knew what he saw. Plenty of attractive men of all species littered the bar - flirting, dancing, drinking - only one or two of them were clones. Core smirks condescendingly to himself. Even with the risk of this pain, the need for sex and companionship drove them out here. Core was more here for the companionship, for the closeness, Fives was here more for the sex. Not that he could blame the vode. The sex was good too.

Core took a heavy swig of his drink. “S0, no brother of yours again tonight?”

Fives smirked as he leaned his elbows back against the bar. “We’re all brothers, commander.”

Core gave him a look through his smile. “You know what I mean, trooper.”

Fives nodded and looked back out to the bar. “Naw, not tonight. I’m still not sure I want him to come to this place. Not that he wouldn’t like it. It's just… not the clientele he’s interested in. Not his ‘community’.” He grinned at the Commander, using Core’s own words. His look turned thoughtful as he looked around. “Besides. It’s not so bad having something that’s just mine. We share everything, but it would be… a different story to share this. Since it’s not his.”

Core understood. He loved his brothers in command, but… this wasn’t their place. They’d be tourists here. And he didn’t want to worry about being on display.

He finishes his drink. “At least you can still share the women talk.”

“Oh yes, we can still do plenty of that,” Fives chuckles, still thoughtful. “And it helps to know that he understands me coming out on my own, having an experience he can’t be part of. No matter what happens, he’ll always have my back. That’s what brothers do.” He looks back at Core, hand clapping back onto his shoulder. “So just remember- you’ll always have us, Commander. Your brothers. No matter what happens.”

Something in Core relaxes, like muscles from their burden. Fives was right. He had something not a lot of people had. Brothers. Brothers by his side no matter what. He looks up with a small smile at his friend before the bartender places their drinks in front of them. They both take a glass.

“To brothers,” Core toasts

“To brothers,” Fives echoes.

Their glasses clink before they both take a sip. Core turns out to look at the bar, seeing some familiar faces of friends, a past lover or two.

Fives glances out at the throng. “How 'bout it, Commander? Ready to get up again?”

Core takes a deep breath and grins, grabbing his helmet off the bar. “Heck, I was never one to ignore a challenge.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

NOW

Core pours the amber bourbon into two glasses sitting on his desk, corking the bottle before passing one of them over to his guest. The Corporal sits straight backed in his chair, serious, the well trained trooper.

Is this really the Echo Fives talked about?

Echo takes the drink from him, looking at it with surprise. "How did you even get this onboard, Commander?”

Core smirks out a chuckle. “I’ve got my ways.” He takes a swig of his own. “Helps that my Jedi doesn’t mind a sip every now and then.”

Echo lets a smirk slide. “Hm. That does tend to make things easier.” He takes a sip, nodding appreciatively. He settles in and looks up at the Commander. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Sheesh, all business. You could crack an egg on that rigid expression. Fives must be rolling around in his grave.

Core leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. “You never did make it out to 97s, did you?”

Echo’s brow crinkles in confusion. “97s?”

Core nods through another sip. “With Fives.”

Echo's brows shoot up. “No, never got the invite…” He leans forward. “You knew him?”

Core nodded. “Good man. Good trooper. Good friend.” He gulps down what's left of his drink and sets his glass on the desk. “All of us at 97s were devastated to hear the news.”

None of them had believed it. None of them could handle it.

Echo’s posture deflates a bit. He takes a large gulp to finish his drink and sets it on the table. Core fills the glass again as Echo leans back in his seat. 

There. There he was - the brother who’d lost a brother. Not a Corporal, not a trooper, just… vod.

Echo’s voice is softer but still steady. “How… was he? After…”

“Broken, for awhile.” Core fills his own glass again, remembering. “He never did recover from not having you around. He moved on, still smiled, but he was never as carefree as before.”

Echo sighs, picking up his drink, staring at the liquid in the glass. “I… know the feeling. Its hard when you grow up with someone by your side only to find them… gone.” He takes another hearty gulp, the medicine for his pain.

Core watches his own glass for a moment. “I can’t imagine what it was like having him gone when you returned from Skako. I’m glad…” he looks back up to his guest. “I’m glad there was a squad waiting for you when you came back.”

Echo nodded solemnly. “I am too. They’re… unconventional, but that makes them more like Fives in some ways.”

“They’re still brothers.”

“They're still brothers.”

Core takes a gulp and sets the drink down, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. He didn't want to do this. Didn't have to do this. But, well... he did.

“Fives once reminded me that brothers always have your back. We’re lucky that way. No matter what happens with the wars, our jedi, our partners - we always have each other.”

A small smile. “That sounds like him.”

“Fives was important to me, and you were important to him. I owe it to him to watch a brother's back if he isn't here to do it himself.”

“Hm.” Echo nods absentmindedly. 

“So, I’m asking this in my duty to Fives,” Core looks at Echo over his laced fingers. “Is sharing this woman really a good idea?”

Echo freezes, drink halfway to his lips. “Sir?”

“Your medic,” Core repeats. “Is sleeping with her going to cause problems for you and your squad?”

Echo quickly downs his drink. Core smirks - Fives used to do that when he was trying to cover something up. “Ah, sir, that’s just a…just a rumor.”

Core laughs good-naturedly. “Which is what I’ll tell anyone who asks, trooper. But I’ve seen you all together. When you live your life reading body language to find your ‘people’, you get very good at it. And you boys were practically screaming.”

Echo sighs in defeat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“She’s not… no. No, she won’t,” he says solemnly.

“You’re sure about that?” Core presses. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the girl. Seems like more than enough to handle you all. But if you’re not careful...”

Echo rubs the back of his neck, more thoughtful than embarrassed. But... still a little embarrassed.

“It’s not… we’re not just sleeping with her, sir. She isn’t some bunker bunny we all let off steam with between missions. We all… care about her."

Core blinks for a moment. "Oh really?"

Echo nods. "She wasn’t even going to sign up for it if… that was all we wanted. But we all care about her, and we all… can make up for each others... deficiencies.”

Core doesn’t let up. “And you all agreed to this? Sober?”

“Yes.” Echo finally looks up. “I know it sounds a bit out there, Commander. But it... works. And… while it's nice to have someone who looks at me like that, wants to be around me, there’s... there's still a war. I have a duty, we all do. And knowing there are others, that if I can’t be there for her, can't..." he swallows "make it back… it makes it easier. It makes it work.”

Core huffs, nodding. “Well, its not nearly the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” He seems sure. He’s a grown ass clone, can make his own choices, and he’s being sincere…

What would Fives have said to his brother now?

Core smirks. “I’m glad for you, Echo. That’s what he’d say.”

Echo huffs a smirk in return. “I think he would. Thank you, Commander.”

“Just know, if anything happens, you’ve still got us. You’ve still got your brothers. We’ll always have your back.”

Echo’s nods, saying almost to himself. “Thank you, Fives.”

Core smiles.

“Well,” Core claps his hand down on the table before leaning back again, “let me know if there’s anything fun I can do, besides keeping this a secret- especially since I’m stealing your squad’s cyarika for some ‘girl talk’. I’ll owe you big for that one.”

Echo snorts a bit, chuckling for a moment before he pauses.

“Actually, Commander....” he says thoughtfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “there is something you could do for me. And its just audacious enough to earn the Fives seal of approval.``

Core’s smirk is almost devilish as he leans forward on his desk. THIS is the Echo he'd waited to meet. About kriffing time.

“I’m listening Corporal. And I can already tell you - I'm all in.”

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[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 3

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The Regent keeps him around. No idea how the Prince got him in the ring, but that one would do anything to piss off his uncle.

context: laurent wanted damen to lose—we know this because of the drugging. but i suppose that annoying the regent with govart's loss was a consolation prize? and he would have been... equally annoyed, if govart won? laurent cannot possibly think that the regent cares about govart's well-being, but maybe govart is a reflection of his authority. honestly, not too sure about this one.

craft note: “piss off” is a great anachronism here

Laurent might talk like he’d been raised on the floor of a brothel, but he had a Veretian courtier’s mind, used to deception and double dealing.

maybe try to make it sound like less of a compliment

‘I wouldn’t have thought of that. He has a mind for details.’ ‘Yes, I’m learning that,’ said Damen.

Maybe he just wanted another chance to fight something. Preferably an insufferable yellow-haired princeling.

‘Today, in the baths, you will serve.’ ‘Serve?’ said Damen.

he is technically serving cunt. a cunt named laurent

Laurent reclined against the tiled wall, settling his shoulders flat against it.

laurent lean #2

Laurent rearranged himself against the wall into a position that looked even more indolently comfortable than the one before.

laurent lean #3. also, this line is very funny

Those sweet blue eyes gazed at him.

normal reaction to an implied death threat

'Your little speech about fair play fooled me about as much as your show of obedience.'

context: laurent can’t conceive of damen being a decent person without an ulterior motive. given the fact that he's spent the past seven years in the regent's court, i can't really blame him

For Laurent was all of a piece: his body had the same impossible grace as his face. He was lighter built than Damen, but his body wasn’t boyish. Instead, he possessed the beautifully proportioned musculature of a young man on the new cusp of adulthood, made for athletics, or statuary.

damen has no idea how much it would probably mean to laurent to be seen as definitively non-boyish

The water was hot when it pulsed up from the ground, and hot when he poured it from the silver pitcher. The air was hot. He was conscious of it. He was conscious of the rise and fall of his chest, of his breathing, of more than that.

craft note: awareness of non-sexual physical sensation (heat, breathing, etc.) helps to build up tension. also, the repetition here is neat.

He remembered that in Akielos he had been washed by a slave with yellow hair. Her colouring had matched Laurent’s so closely they might have been twinned. She had been far less disagreeable.

damen likes blondes mention #3. another favorable comparison towards laurent, although he does get points off for being a bitch

‘Don’t be presumptuous,’ said Laurent, coldly. ‘Too late, sweetheart,’ said Damen. Laurent turned, and with calm precision unleashed a backhanded blow that had easily enough force to bloody a mouth, but Damen had had quite enough of being hit, and he caught Laurent’s wrist before the blow connected.

the girls are fightingggggg

craft note: i really like “damen had had quite enough of being hit.” it’s a massive understatement, which for damen’s characterization and the book’s sense of humor works perfectly.

He felt the tension hit Laurent’s body, though the tone didn’t change overmuch from its usual drawl. ‘But my voice has broken. That was the only prerequisite, wasn’t it?’ Damen released his grip, as though burned. A moment later, the blow he had thwarted landed, harder than he could have imagined, smashing across his mouth. ‘Get him out of here,’ said Laurent.

the amount of times i had to re-read this conversation and previous dialogue, to understand what the hell was going on between the lines...

context: damen previously made a flippant comment about not assaulting people whose voices haven’t dropped. it was meant as a dig towards the court of vere, which enables csa.

laurent wants an excuse to torture and/or kill damen while his uncle is away—knows that the court would see this retribution as justifiable if damen were to attempt an assault of the veretian prince.

laurent brings damen to the baths in order to essentially make his case for his revenge. he needs to create circumstances in which retribution is justified, and since sex = power to laurent—just another strategy—he sees a way to make that happen by teasing damen. he does not expect to feel anything while enacting this plan, as he is very used to dissociating during these kinds of situations.

laurent: “don’t be presumptuous” = “stop assuming we’re going to have sex, even though it was my plan to put us both in this intentionally erotic situation. i’m more uncomfortable than i thought i would be with this and i’m deflecting.” 

damen: “too late, sweetheart” = “i am smug about the fact that this is making you uncomfortable. also, you’re hot, and i might as well enjoy the view.” 

laurent: “but my voice is broken, that was the only prerequisite” = “by your own joking admission, i now have every reason to assume you’re going to assault me—and your obvious arousal does not help your case.” 

damen, who has absolutely no intention to sexually assault laurent, is shocked by this and pulls away.

He had resisted the provocation to violence exactly because he had known he would end up suffering consequences. And now here he was, for no better reason than that Laurent, possessing a pleasing shape, had left off talking just long enough for Damen’s body to forget his disposition.

i love the implication that laurent is only attractive as long as he isn’t talking. damen is great at backhanded insults too!

‘I should have done this to you the day you arrived,’ said Laurent. ‘It’s exactly what you deserve.’

context: damen is not just some random akielion to laurent. laurent knows that he is damianos, and that damianos killed auguste, leading to seven years of abuse, sexual assault, and isolation for laurent within the regent's court. what he does here—having damen flogged to near-death—is still bad, but at least there’s more depth to the badness than damen or a first-time reader would understand.

from damen's pov, and for a first-time reader, this entire situation is sadistic and impersonal. but with full awareness of laurent's perspective, i can understand that it is essentially cathartic revenge. losing auguste to damen's blade forced laurent to experience the kind of trauma that changes a person forever. the person he has become is a reflection of that trauma, and damen is the ultimate scapegoat.

also, flogging is not exactly cruel or unusual punishment in this world—in fact, damen mentions that he's done it himself to akielion soldiers. it's notable that instances of damen's subtle hypocrisy appear in these earlier chapters: the flogging, parallels between kastor's rule and the regency, and akielion slavery. pacat is methodically building a house of cards with damen's unreliable narration from the start.

(when i call damen an unreliable narrator, it's not because i think he's a bad person or protagonist. he's an unreliable narrator in the same way that holden caulfield is an unreliable narrator: heartbreakingly earnest, ignorant due to inexperience, and within the ethos of the novel, ultimately Good.)

‘You are cold-blooded and honourless. What held back someone like you?’ It was the wrong thing to say. ‘I’m not sure,’ said Laurent, in a detached voice. ‘I was curious what kind of man you were. I see we have stopped too early. Again.’

this first book really is just the two of them playing a high-stakes game of “are you a good person” chicken

‘I was on the field at Marlas,’ said Laurent. As the words penetrated, Damen felt the world reshape itself around him. ‘They wouldn’t let me near the front. I never had the chance to face him. I used to wonder what I’d say to him if I did. What I’d do. How dare any one of you speak the word honour? I know your kind. A Veretian who treats honourably with an Akielon will be gutted with his own sword. It’s your countryman who taught me that. You can thank him for the lesson.’ ‘Thank who?’ Damen pushed the words out, somehow, past the pain, but he knew. He knew. ‘Damianos, the dead Prince of Akielos,’ said Laurent. ‘The man who killed my brother.’

i went into the context for this already, but i do just think it's insane that laurent is both torturing and gaslighting the person who ruined his life. like, remember the guy from the princess bride? "my name is inigo montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." laurent is essentially doing the same thing with damen here—cathartic and premeditated revenge killing, karma's a bitch, an eye for an eye—but instead he's like "my name is laurent of vere, you were present in the battle where someone else murdered my brother (i know that you know you actually did it), prepare to be tortured and possibly killed based on my own unpredictable and sadistic whims. whore."

[shrekgogurt]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

Thanks for the tags @theearlgreymage and @wellbelesbian !!!!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

For the sake of this endeavor I’m gonna focus on I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man which is also more affectionately referred to as IKABIKAM, eyecab eyecam, 👁️🚕👁️📸, etc.

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

Natasha as like a vaguely Margaret Thatcher figure but she was in office in the late 90s not the 80s don’t think about it too hard okay the exact policy/praxis doesn’t matter so much as the ideology/vibes/dynamic + Davy (The Mage) as like a fucked up Welsh caricature (of his own design) because he’s overcompensating and has the media literacy of the worst film bro you’ve ever had the misfortune of talking to = their sons falling in love through football/soccer against all odds as juxtaposed between childhood and adulthood.

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Trauma

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

Solsbury Hill for obvious reasons

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

This one :-)

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Okay, I’m usually absolute ass at naming files in any helpful fashion but this project is so organized on Google Docs. My notes app is a different story. Those don’t even have titles. I just launch into my whims as they come.

Most interesting answer I can give is that the folder containing all my fic documents is titled “kill the part that cringes.”

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

Listen, I warned y’all.

To be in love with Simon Snow—a life sentence, an encyclopedia of grief.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

In the original musings of IKABIKAM—titled Scarborough Fair as the club was gonna be in Scarborough—Simon was Irish rather than Welsh and raised by Ruth. I know. Wild to think about now. But it’s true. And then I did some excavating on canon and the story we have today was born. Lost to time (the original idea of this fic which was actually two fics) is a whole very fun scene. I had planned that after the international break match against other, Simon convinced Baz to go out on the town with him. I wrote this snippet back then. It didn’t make the cut for obvious reasons and honestly I don’t know how much I stand by the characterization. Or the prose. Everything about IKABIKAM is better to me but this sexy little number deserves the people’s attention. I’m slightly concerned it’s offensive.

They’re playing INDUSTRY BABY in this club right now? I’m not dancing with Simon Snow to a Lil Nas X song. That music video…I’m only a man. I’m also not exactly sober. I will not risk a Snow relapse. Besides, Snow himself just downed the rest of his drink.

He leans toward me to say something. With the combination of his drunkenness and his accent I can barely make out his words, “eye gahta gohbakta da barrr.” (Translation: I’ve got to go back to the bar.) He really doesn’t.

I pluck the glass from his hand, “this last one is on me.”

He goofily smiles. His head is drooping to the side and his eyes are half-lidded. It would be adorable if I wasn’t worried about him falling over. I scan the room. One of the other Irish players is nearby. I hook Snow’s arm in mine (both my hands are full!) and drag him towards his teammate. He stumbles behind me looking completely blissed out.

I tap the other player on his shoulder. Clancy I think? The left winger. “Hey, I’m going to force Snow home so he can avoid a stomach pump. Could you make sure he doesn’t wander off while I close out my tab?”

He nods. I throw Snow at him and maneuver through the crowd up to the bar. It’s packed. I finish my own drink before I can push an opening to order. The bartender nods at me. She looks worn out from the night. I don’t blame her.

“Soda water with lime please.”

“Sure. What’s the name on the tab?”

“Grimm-Pitch. Could you close it?”

She nods and turns on her heel. A minute or so later she returns with the drink and my card. I take them.

“Is there any chance I could close out my mate’s tab too. He’s pissed.” I gesture back at the direction of Snow and Clancy. A circle of women have surrounded them. Honestly, fair.

The bartender gives me a wary eye. “What’s the name?”

“Snow.”

“Snow? Like the footballer Simon Snow over there?” She points at Simon.

I nod. The bartender scoffs, “Sure I’ll give Simon Snow’s card to some random Englishman.”

Random Englishman? Am I really going to have to do you know who I am this woman? I go for a subtle approach and just sort of lift an eyebrow and draw attention to the name on my own card: Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. The realization hits her. I was afraid I would have to tie my hair up.

“Oh shit. Fuck you’re Baz Pitch.” She stares at me. I hold out my hand. “Right, the card!” She hands me Snow’s card.

I nod, “Alright. Thanks.”

She shakes her head at me, “No, sorry for the hassle. Have a good night English…defensive midfielder…Baz Pitch.” She says my name with a laugh like she’s awestruck I’m in this Dublin nightclub (fair), “and thanks for the win today!”

I’m beyond tired of hearing that line.

When I return Snow is having the time of his life: posted up surrounded by ladies singing along to Ayyy Ladies. They’re not being subtle in their flirting. (Again, fair. Good for them.) Snow is incredibly respectful despite being off his face. Good lad. He’s still far too drunk to consent to anything so I don’t feel terribly guilty for pulling him away from the grind fest.

When he sees me approach he lights up, “Baz!” His arms fly open. “Took you long enough.”

I hand him his drink. There is a blonde woman dancing on him. She throws her arms around his neck. He knocks back the drink and chugs it in one go. A little water dribbles down his chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. It catches on his bottom lip. He hasn’t looked away from me once. And this fucking song…

“When I hit it from the back, don't fuss, don't fight

When I put it in ya mouth, don't scratch, don't bite”

I need to get the fuck out of here.

He hands me back the glass, “That drink was awful. What was it?” His speech is a little less slurred than before.

“Water. I’m taking you home.”

He blushes, “What?”

“You’re plastered. So, you should get sick in your own loo rather than on this lovely woman,” I give the blonde a wink. She dances away.

I’m pretty sure tabs aren’t even really that much of a thing in Ireland. And like…I don’t think you can close them out for someone else. So like. I don’t know what the fuck I was on while writing that. Obviously not Google.com, or reality. But most of all I was absolutely jump-scared reading that back and discovering I was gonna make Baz a defensive midfielder? WTF!?

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

A hockey one-shot. Whenever it happens the chirps are gonna be out of this world.

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

One in a way that’s meaningful. Maybe two. It’s a fresh thing.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

The chapter is really expositional in an isolated way and so I have to backtrack for context without being boring.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Blessed beyond belief.

Now tagging @artsyunderstudy @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @j-nipper-95 @noblecorgi @prettygoododds @thewholelemon @valeffelees @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe omg and @emeryhall tell me everything

[cetaceans-pls]

Are you ever going to post the full version of this teehee https://www.tumblr.com/cetaceans-pls/685147739958509568/preview-for-the-jason-todd-zine-red-lights-dark

hey anon! i have so much work strewn between google docs and ao3 and here and i lost track :') here's a lil sunday treat, fic below the cut!

A Habit of Domination BruJay, R, petplay Good boys go woof.

Sometimes, after a particularly athletic night of sex, Bruce and Jason will go to sleep on opposite ends of Bruce’s absurdly huge bed and sleep facedown and unmoving for a solid 10 hours. The blankets will all be on the floor, bare butts facing the ceiling, and if they’re feeling romantic in their sleep they’ll wake up at acute angles to each other, bare toes barely touching.

Sometimes, after a particularly athletic night of sex, Jason just gets more and more and more wound up, and the absolute last thing he wants to do is fade into quiet sleep.

Nights like these Bruce doesn’t have to do much more than just sit back and take it, sex-drunk and worn down enough that the quiet core of him, that desire to serve that’s kept Batman running for decades, is close enough to the surface that Jason just looks at him and it has Bruce unwinding with a quiet yes on a quieter exhale.

“Must be the full moon,” Jason says as he roughly tugs Bruce to lie flat on his back before he climbs astride his hips. “Must be some janky bit of astrology, B, because you fucked me hard and good,” a quick kiss for a good job well done, “but I’m cranked up worse than before.”

Bruce just snorts, hands coming up to hold on tight to Jason’s waist. “Can’t blame planetary alignment for being a brat, Jason.” He rolls his hips, but the night’s gone soft and so has he. “What do you need?”

Jason, meanwhile, isn’t suffering a similar fate. He rubs his hard cock against Bruce’s chest, leisurely marking his territory. “Dunno, trying to figure it out.” He leans down and bites into the curve of Bruce’s shoulder. With the obscene packed muscle there, it’s more an imposition on his teeth than it is on Bruce, which is offensive. “Could get you to fuck me with a toy, but you look wiped out.”

  

He gets a pinch at the waist for his taunt, Bruce looking placid but for that no-good smirk right at the edge of his lips. “Talking mighty confident for someone who comes on a hair-trigger, Jay,” Bruce says mildly. “Do you really want to get up on your High Horse?”

The only way to stop Bruce from prefixing their sex toys with Bat-something has been to relent and let him instead name them with  godawful puns nobody under the age of 40 would find funny. It’s maybe a little fucked up that Jason finds that endearing, but the High Horse is the world’s finest(!) Sybian redesigned on a rig that makes it rock and roll like a fucking bucking bronco, and a terrible name is a small price to pay for orgasms so intense the oversensitivity starts feeling like death (Jason would know).

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave the room, don’t want to leave this bed, really. Even if I get you to go fetch the stupid thing, you still haven’t fixed that squeaky wheel, and I’m gonna go fully feral if I go down for breakfast tomorrow and Alfred’s got a can of WD-40 on the kitchen counter.” He slides lower down Bruce’s body, and looks over his shoulder at Bruce’s cock. “You sure you can’t get it up? C’mon, I’ll even go reverse cowgirl. I’ll moan extra loud, go ah ah ah Bruce you’re so big!” He grins, reaching up to press down on the bite mark on Bruce’s shoulder. “A special extra big ego boost as a reward.”

Bruce sits up, and they both wince at the ungodly crack his back makes. “Couldn’t get it up even with that as incentive,” he says, rubbing his scruff against Jason’s neck. “Couldn’t get it up even to please you. I think I’m broken for the night.”

Jason’s never one to be stopped by something as minor as physical limitations. Got an autopsy scar up-down his chest, Jason barely even let death slow him down. “I’m pretty good with my hands,” Jason tells him, dragging his nails up-down Bruce’s chest. “Pretty good at making things work even when they’re not supposed to.” He lets his hands slip up and up and up, till they rest warm and light around Bruce’s neck. “You wanna see how far I can take you?”

“I already know,” Bruce says, almost polite but for the way the grip he has on Jason’s hips go tighter. “You’re being a handful tonight, Jaybird.” 

Oh, Jason’s going to be getting bruises tonight. It warms him right up, riles him further, and he ruts against Bruce’s hip. “Wish I could say the same ‘bout you,” he says pointedly, reaching back and rubbing the back of his knuckles against Bruce’s soft cock. “Wish you were better at taking orders.”

That seems to land exactly the way Jason had aimed, has Bruce twitching and shuddering under him even if his face remains calmly impassive. “Is it going to be that kind of night, Jason?” Bruce asks him very, very quietly, and Jason hadn’t planned on it at the start but right now he really can’t think of anything he’d like more.

“Looks like it’s gonna be,” Jason says, excitement helping him rise to his feet as he jumps clear off the bed, landing with a heavy thump. “Off the bed now, B,” he says as he heads towards a patch of wall that looks like any other patch of wall, except this one rolls up at his light touch. “You know pets aren’t allowed on furniture.”

If Bruce isn’t feeling it, Jason knows he’ll turn around and the man will mutinously still be on the bed.

He’s barely got the collar out before he hears the creaking and thudding of a heavy man being careful to make sound as he climbs off the bed and sits back on his knees. Jason feels a shiver crawl up his spine, makes him straighten up and roll back his shoulders, because yeah, it’s going to be one of the best kinds of nights. 

Nothing too fancy, he thinks. For all that Jason enjoys push-push-pushing Bruce till his breaking point and, on extra special occasions, well beyond that, Bruce has been run down worse than usual with an attempted Arkham breakout. 

No one can accuse him of being a bad owner. 

“Here boy,” he says, clicking his fingers and pointing at his feet. Bruce comes by, limited in his grace by cracking knees and an old back, and comes to a halt right by Jason with his usual mild, impassive face.

That look’s not going to be on there for long. Jason flicks his finger up to the ceiling, and Bruce obediently sits up and looks up, head tilted back, the exact perfect right angle for a collaring. He has a well-trained boy, he does. Jason smugly puts the collar on, just  a thing of black leather that’s softer than butter, free of embellishments. Need little more than a buckle to make Bruce look his best, need less even than that for Jason to know who's a good boy, or

who's a bad one.

He checks that the collar is on just right (a little too tight), just the wrong side of being perfectly comfortable, because Bruce's tastes are, like all the rest of him, aggravating but also precision-designed to maximally appeal to Jason. It says a little too much ‘about the both of them, probably, but what could you want out of a partnership beyond someone who likes it too tight and someone who likes to make it so?

“Down, boy.”

Smooth as anything Bruce comes back to all fours at his feet, and Jason lets his hand rest in hair that’s starting to go gray, takes a moment to feel exactly as on top of the world as the man who domesticated the Bat deserves to feel. “You were bad, weren’t you? Asked you for one little thing, and you couldn’t even give me that.”

Bruce nods gravely, hangdog look dragging down the corners of his lips. Jason presses his palm to Bruce’s cheek to reward the admission, and the heavy push into his hand is headier than a lifetime full of blood rushing to the head.

They’ve tried slave-master stuff, they’ve alphabetically worked their way down most common kinks, and sortof-pet play has stuck harder than most because it’s a pleasant novelty for Bruce to do what’s asked of him and get rewarded for it, and Jason gets off hard on the control and gets off harder on being the only one who can meet the needs of this big bat brute.

 

Yeah, they make a hell of a pair. Jason wants him so badly it’s giving him the beginnings of a migraine.

“You just need more training,” Jason says, brushing hair behind an ear, not forcing eye contact because he knows how funny Bruce can be about that when he’s Like This. “My bad, I let the leash run too long, and now you don’t know how to be good any more, isn’t that right?”

Another nod, and Bruce leans more heavily against Jason, face to thigh, and he’s probably halfway gone just from this. God, Jason can barely contain himself, feels frizzy with electricity and power, and he cannot help but drag his nails down the back of Bruce’s neck, see the slightest red welts trail after them. “Tail kinda night?” he asks, because he’s a conscientious owner, and also because there are fewer things more singularly satisfying than watching stone-faced Bruce trying to adjust to a plus with a wagging rubber tail to it, face caught between embarrassment and a strange sort of satisfaction.

He gets a shake of his head for his trouble, which is unfortunate but also, like. 

Isn’t it the right of pets to be a little bit spoiled? 

“Fine. But you still need to get trained, so’s you can be good for me. C’mon, big guy. Present.”

The early days of all of this had been A Mess, with fights erupting and rocketing out of control at a glance gone wrong or a word better left quiet, both of them extremely keen not to let on just how into this they really, really are. 

Now, though?

Bruce takes a moment to suck a hickey into Jason's thigh before he sits back on his heels, hands propping himself up so his back’s in a curve that hurts, and his hips are tilted up and out. God, if he’d been hard, Jason might have salivated. As is, it’s a near thing.

“Good boy,” Jason says, easy with the positive reinforcement. “See, now, you’re being good all over, but you still won’t get hard for me.” He steps between Bruce’s spread thighs, and nudges at his soft cock with the top of his foot. “That’s no good to me now, is it?”

Bruce shakes his head, and Jason takes a second to mourn how he’s yet to get Bruce to agree to wearing ears. Jason sure would appreciate something shaggy to bury his hands in or see fwip side-to-side whenever they’re in this type of mood.

“Good, at least you know that. Now, how’re we gonna get you going?” There are a few possible answers, depending on what Bruce is feeling like and what Jason is feeling up to. It’s not an elaborate kind of night, long as it’s been, and there’s something to be said for a sure thing, so Jason rubs his thumb across Bruce’s cheek, putting in the exact right amount of pressure to have Bruce’s eyes slowly close.

“There’s a good boy,” Jason says with the confidence of a man who knows he can do almost anything right now and damn well get away with it. He keeps the gentle teasing up for a while, because even in the absence of ears and a tail Bruce fully looks like a massive, hulking dog come to be sweet, and it’s an addictive sight. “Let’s start with a treat, baby, so you know what’s waiting for you if you behave.”

No extra warning needed, he presses the head of his dick against Bruce’s lips, deigns to wait a second to let Bruce have a careful, thoughtful taste, before he’s pushing home with a hearty groan. “Christ, the mouth on you,” Jason says, a little out of breath, reaching down to wrap a hand around Bruce’s throat. He reckons he can almost feel himself, and he definitely can feel the way Bruce is struggling to breathe and struggling to swallow. “Take it now, don’t you want to be good?”

He gets a half-nod, Bruce’s eyes closed, nose pressed flush to Jason’s skin, shuddering like he’s about to burst apart. Jason enjoys the wet, tight heat, pulls back an inch and gives back a mile, biting his lip as Bruce chokes and shudders.

He doubles down, and on the next pull-out push-in he goes as far as he can manage before he squeezes the sides of Bruce’s neck, the exact right way to stop blood from going to the brain. “Hold it,” Jason says sternly, even though he knows he’ll get whatever he wants whatever tone he uses. Bruce doesn’t reply, just works his throat harder, and doesn’t struggle as the seconds crawl by and his breath is gone.

It’s well over a minute when Jason pulls back of his own volition, and Bruce’s deep heaving breath is accompanied by a sharp slap to his face. “How many times do I have to tell you, you tap out when you need to,” Jason says, slapping Bruce again, before holding his hair back so the man can gasp in peace. “Worse ‘n worse ‘n worse, you’re all over the place tonight.”

Bruce, ah, can’t  really register anything except for the disappointed tone of voice. This deep under, it’s hard to realise how close he’d come to passing out, or the edge of concern in Jason’s voice.

Nothing really matters except for Jason, though, so Bruce bends down down down and contritely presses his cheek to Jason’s ankle. This, at least, he’s learned. Submit hard enough, mean it whole enough, and his faults stop being his. All he needs to do is focus on Jason, after all.

(What is Jason if not a miracle, that he came back from the dead with a vengeance? And what’s a miracle for, if not for believing in?)

Jason looks down, and struggles to stay mad at the Bat lying prostrate by his feet. Careful not to dislodge Bruce who’s Gone, and is Gone because he knows Jason’ll pull him back, Jason kneels down on one knee. “C’mon, act this sweet and I’m not gonna punish you for anything,” he says, rubbing down Bruce’s back, nails catching on scabs from the most recent time Croc got his teeth in him. “Just gonna get more and more spoiled, aren’t you?”

 

Long, slow strokes down Bruce’s back, right down to the tailbone, and big guy’s shuddering like a spin cycle falling apart. Delicious, delicious, and if spoiling Bruce rotten is all part of a grand plan to be irreplaceable (to be even more irreplaceable), well.

In the bedroom’s the best place to air out all desires and grievances; Bruce knows what he signed up for, accepting Jason’s vicious single-minded pursuit way back at the start.

Speaking of desires….. Jason digs his hand into the meat of Bruce’s ass, then reaches down and around to grab hold of Bruce’s soft cock. “You really are tapped out, huh, B?” Jason says pityingly, giving a rough squeeze that’s more unpleasant than not. “Really got nothing left to give.”

He half wants to see if he can’t pull out a toy or twelve and force him into hardness, but Jason discards the thought almost as soon as he has it. No, no, for all of Jason’s Big Talk about discipline, he’s still a lost cause when it comes to his big brute. Treats enough to rot your teeth out, thy name is Todd.

Bruce still hasn’t moved, and Jason would be concerned if he was a lesser man. Instead, he reaches back to Bruce’s hair and tugs a little harshly. “Up, up, on the bed. Have a blowout and call it a night, even when you’re bad I’ll still treat you good.”

The slow drag of seconds for the words to settle in Bruce’s head is an ego boost, the panting that accompanies it even more so. Jason stays down, even as Bruce takes long, sweet moments to figure out how to get to his feet and totter hazily towards the bed, scarred back on display, once again tempting Jason to get a big red bat tattooed on from scapula to scapula.

Narcissistic? Sure, but look, see, there’s just one thing about that.

Jason deserves it. Jason’s fucking earned it.

How could you argue to the contrary? Bruce is sprawled out on the bed, looking like a relaxed man dead asleep, but his face is half pressed into the sheets, half turned towards Jason, and the look in his eye is on fucking fire.

“Shoulders down, get on your knees, big guy,” Jason says with fake calm, stalking towards the bed like Red Hood on the prowl, because yeah, this’ll work just fine. He has to squeeze the base of his cock when Bruce obeys without question, even if the temptation’s there to just cum all over that beautiful, beautiful back.

He deserves a treat too, though. Jason climbs onto the bed, reaching over for their expensive lube, and pulls it over to him. “Right, baby,” he says as he gets his fingers wet, gets Bruce’s hole wet. “Gonna have to punish you for being bad, and the punishment is me fucking an orgasm out of you while you’re soft.” Soft all over, takes a finger and then another in like he’s made for it, like he’s made for Jason, rrr. “And when you cum and you’re so oversensitive you think I’m gonna kill you, you’re gonna say thank you. Do you understand me?”

Jason doesn’t get much of a response, just a mess of half-words groaned into the mattress. That’s not good, that’s not what a well-trained mutt should be doing, and Jason would be remiss if he left it as is. He shuffles closer to B, sits up on his knees so he can press his cock to the slick mess of Bruce’s hole, catch on the rim and push in with that heated burn of not-enough-preparation.

God, if he hadn’t been so well worked over in the night, Jason would have lost it then and there, but instead he keeps pushing in, inch by unceasing inch, as Bruce makes unintelligible sounds and tries to buck his hips up. 

It’s a lifetime before Jason’s fully seated, pressed in as deep as he can go, and the heat has him dizzy, sweat beading all along his brow. He takes a breath, then another, and leans forward so his bulk covers Bruce’s back. It somehow gains him another impossible half inch closer, and he’s in the exact right position to set his teeth to Bruce’s shoulder and bite him to blood.

(Might be more than one dog in this bed, fancy that). 

“I said,” Jason growls, pulling out slowly and pushing back in with a sharp snap of his hips, “do you understand?”

Bruce nods fervently underneath him, urgent and desperate as he scrabbles to grab hold of where Jason’s arms are caging him in. “Yes, yes, Jason, yes, thank you, Jason, please,” he says in a voice fucked hoarse, and

Fuck, Bruce has made a liar out of Jason.

There’s no way they’ll be done in one round.

-

Jason comes to slowly, dazed and feeling dehydrated. No surprise, given the hell of a night and they’ve had, but he’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep while still fully seated inside Bruce and neither of them had gotten up to any kind of aftercare.

Bad practice, bad owner, bad all around, Jason thinks to himself, sitting upright all in a hurry, expecting an empty bed, Bruce tucked in the Cave pretending he hadn’t been brought the lowest he’d ever gone.

Instead Bruce is still next to him, with them both lying in that weird only-feet-touching position they gravitate to when it’s too warm but they’re too loving. Jason waggles his toes, and Bruce waggles his back.

The relief’s like a Heimlich maneuver gone right, probably. Jason lets out a shuddery breath and reaches across the divide to lightly brush his fingers against Bruce’s shoulder. “You doing all right there, old man?”

“Hmm,” Bruce murmurs absently, still looking at Jason as he fiddles with the collar that still is around his neck.

Bad, bad owner. Jason curses, and reaches over for it. “Sorry, should’ve gotten it off before we fell asleep. Are you hurt?”

He gets batted away for his troubles. “I think,” Bruce says, unprompted and absently as he continued fiddling with the buckle, “I might want to try with some ears.”

Jason finds himself swallowing around a mouth gone dry, his cock making a spirited attempt to come back to life. “What? You know you don’t have to-”

Bruce ignores him again, and Jason would be annoyed, he really should be, but the absolute madman just keeps flicking his thumbnail against the metal buckle, a little Gone but mostly returned. “I think a tag would be good,” Bruce says, calm like he’s discussing the weather. “A little red tag, perhaps. Bat-shaped, of course. With the name and number of who to contact, should I get lost. How does that sound, Jason?”

And there’s that crack, that quirk of the lips that indicates that Bruce fully knows the hell he’s unleashing on Jason, that’s got him shuddering like a spin cycle spinning apart, holy fucking shit.

“Give me a taste and I'll take a whole thigh, Bruce,” Jason warns him, scooting closer while he imagines a tag that matches with a brand on the small of a beautiful back, and it has him fully wholly feral. 

Bruce just smiles a little quiet smile, hand still messing with his collar, eyes fully on Jason.

“Then take it.”

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱɪx ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“God, you’re as fun as untoasted bread.”

“I agree.”

“As you should,” Michael nods solemnly, patting your shoulder while you both look at Nicole with disapproval.

“What?” She frowns, holding up her hands defensively, her long sleeves draping over her hands. Nicole had approached you both asking you to sign up for a volunteer event for her chess club, citing that the activity would take place this Thursday, just two days from now.

It wasn’t that you hated giving back to the community, you didn’t really mind it at all. Well, you wouldn’t mind it at all if Nicole could come up with at least one good idea that everyone else wasn’t doing already. 

“What’s wrong with a food drive?” She’s cross now, folding her arms across her chest and trying her best to look intimidating. It’s not working, especially when she looks like the equivalent of a snowman in summer with her sweater and beanie. It’s a wonder how she hasn’t gotten heatstroke by now. You make a mental note to stick around her — maybe it’d somehow rub off on you.

“Okay, you come up with a better idea then,” Michael looks at you expectantly. And as always, Google is there to save the day. You turn the phone screen around to face them, displaying the search results you’d pulled up moments ago.

“Caricatures.”

“Sure,” Nicole shrugs. She could care less about what the activity was, as long as it meant she’d get the credits to her name. 

“I’m not doing it for free though,” Michael points out with a grin, loving the way her eyes narrow into a glare directed at him. 

“...What do you want?” Nicole forces each word out through gritted teeth, leaning against her table. 

“Twenty per hour, with drinks provided.” 

“Ten per hour, and you buy your own drinks because you have two perfectly functional limbs.”

“Fifteen an hour, with dollar drinks from 7 Eleven.”

Nicole pauses, taking his deal into consideration. “Alright.” 

Michael nods, satisfied with this small victory. “What do you need for supplies?” He asks. You ponder for a moment, starting to list off the materials.

“Drawing pads, 2B pencils, eraser, drinks, snacks…” 

“I can get those.”

“I’ll leave it up to you then,” You say, reassured by Nicole's casual nod. “How much should we charge?”

“Ten bucks?” Nicole suggests.

“Ten bucks.” 

— — — — — 

“Caricatures! Get your drawings done for ten bucks only!”

Luckily, today was a relatively cloudy day. The three of you had set up your small booth consisting of two tables and chairs, covering the tables with a long cloth that hid your bags underneath. The school had excused all three of you for this activity after Nicole had cited it as a valid reason to be absent. 

The girl in question is now slacking off beside you, sipping away on a juice box and scrolling through Instagram while Michael promotes your booth to the various pedestrians.

You had chosen the location, setting up at a junction where many people would pass by the booth. So far, a decent amount of people had asked for a caricature to be drawn, mainly for couples and friends that posed cutely while you drew them.

So far the booth has raised about a hundred dollars, and it’s only increasing by the hour. You’re pleasantly surprised by the demand, especially since it’s for charity. Usually people avoided anything to do with that word like the plague. 

You didn’t blame them, having been targeted by many scams. You usually pretended you didn’t speak English, merely smiling cluelessly until they gave up trying to talk to you. Then again, another reason for your booth’s popularity definitely had something to do with the very boy who’s flirting nonstop with the various girls that had just ended their classes.

“So, how about you and I get some gazpacho sometime?” You overhear him hum to the girl next to him, sweeping a hand through his golden brown hair with a flirtatious smirk. She giggles, tucking a blonde lock behind her ear with ring-clad fingers.

Michael is rather attractive, you have to admit. But as they say, all that’s gold doesn’t glitter.

And he sure as hell isn’t the gentleman he makes himself out to be.

Even then, it’s seriously impressive how many girls he’d already managed to pull to your booth, and pay in full price for your drawings. You gotta step up your game.

And step up your game you shall.

“For a gorgeous girl like yourself, you can have it on the house,” You wink at the flustered girl in front of you, handing her the caricature you’d just drawn. Her cheeks flush, and she accepts it with a quiet thanks. Your fingers brush against each other and she starts at the contact, lips parting and stuttering out an apology. 

“What’s your name?” You ask, smiling gently at her.

“Marissa…” She replies in a soft whisper, and you have to strain to hear it.

“Well Marrisa, don’t apologise,” You reassure her, taking her hand and checking to see if there had been any injury from a potential paper cut. You release it once you’re satisfied that she’s unharmed, giving her a lighthearted two-fingered salute as she leaves.

You lean back in your seat, twirling your pencil in your hands and trying to ignore the way Nicole was staring daggers at you. “Did you just give away the drawing?”

“Yeah. Thought it’d give us a lil’ more publicity,” You say cheerfully, making eye contact with Marissa whose eyes widen when she sees you looking at her. She ducks her head, showing her friends the caricature you’d drawn of her to her friends with a shy smile. 

You turn your attention back to the drawing pad in front of you, uncrossing your legs and bending down to grab a fresh one. You flip it open, beginning to sketch the food truck owner opposite the street you’re on. 

“Don’t do it too much, though. If not we might as well not make any money,” Nicole grouches, crossing her legs under her knees on the chair, and folding her arms with a surly frown on her lips.

“What’s got you so strung up?” You ask casually, catching in your peripheral the way her eyes flit to Michael flirting with the group of girls nearby. The corner of your lips tug up slightly, trying to mask your amused laugh as a cough.

“Nothing,” Nicole mutters. “Stupid gazpacho,” You hear her growl under her breath.

You hum softly under your breath, thankful for the small fan on your table that provided you with some form of relief from the increasing summer heat in Brooklyn. Summers were hot and humid, which proved to be your worst enemy. Many times you’ve gone out with your hair all fluffy from a fresh blowout done at home only for it to go limp and flat not even an hour later. 

Thankfully, summer is ending soon, only a month or so away. For now though, it seems that summer is here to stay. 

“Do you think it’ll rain today?” You ask, lazily propping your head on your hand. Nicole shrugs, looking up at the clear blue sky. 

“Not sure. Besides, the rain here is always unpredictable. Did you bring an umbrella at least?”

You recall leaving your room with your umbrella on your desk, having forgotten to pack it in your bag for today. Nicole shakes her head once she spots the sheepish smile on your face, rolling her eyes as she leans down and digs through her bag.

“You better be grateful I brought an extra. Had a feeling you might’ve forgotten after you left in a rush yesterday.”

You accept the small umbrella she hands you with a grateful smile, nudging her side playfully. The ghost of a smile appears on her face. You grin, grateful that you’d managed to cheer her up and distract her at least somewhat. 

Your efforts are however ruined, when Michael jogs up to the desk with yet another girl whose hand is in his. She sits down with a giggle, handing you ten bucks with a dismissive wave. 

“Welcome!” You chirp, readying your pencil and eraser. You eye Michael who remains blissfully oblivious to a silently enraged Nicole by your side. He lets go of her hand with a suave grin, sending her a wink. 

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that gazpacho, but maybe we could go out sometime?” He chuckles, the girl nodding eagerly. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” 

You watch Nicole push past Michael with a scowl, and he follows her with a silly grin. “I’m gonna grab a drink too!” You hear him call out to you, and you shake your head with a helpless chuckle. 

They’re idiots, the pair of them.

“So, is this gonna be done soon? Or…” You glance up to the girl who’s now eyeing you with dissatisfaction, her eyes scanning your entire being like she just came across a pile of steaming hot garbage. 

“It’ll be done in about five minutes,” You promise with a slightly forced smile, your hands continuing to move while your mind comes up with both creative and obtuse insults for this unpleasant specimen of human being.

“Right… I just have places to be, so like, hurry up.”

“Bet,” You mutter under your breath, watching her pull out her phone and scroll through it with a bored expression. True to your word, you finish the caricature quickly and hand it to her.

She snatches it without another glance, standing up and leaving once she realized that Michael isn’t coming back anytime soon. You grin, chirping a cheerful goodbye. 

It takes all of four steps away from the booth for her to let out a cry of enraged shock, whipping her head around to glare at you frostily. You stare back with wide eyes and a questioning gaze, the very picture of innocence.

The remarkable shade of red that tints her ears almost makes you break character, but you maintain your neutral facade. The corner of your lips twitch ever-so-slightly, watching her scoff and leave with your drawing in her clenched fists. 

When she’s out of sight, you dissolve into a fit of snickers, various people who walk by giving you odd looks. It did look strange, you suppose, for a random girl in the streets curled up in her seat laughing.

You couldn't help it though, the look on her face was absolutely priceless once she saw how detailed your drawing was. From her fake lashes to her horribly attached extensions, even the small pimples she’d tried so hard to cover up with concealer was all on display in her caricature. 

Was it mean? Yes.

Did you regret it? Not in the slightest.

You finally calm down, leaning back with a satisfied smile. The water bottle on your desk was empty, having drank the last few sips earlier. You pull out your phone and dial Nicole’s number.

“Hello?”

“Yo, Nic. Could you grab me like an iced latte or something? I’m parched.”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

“You good?” You ask, noticing how breathless she sounded. “You sound like you just ran a marathon or something.”

“W-what?”

“Oh my god, did you actually run a marathon?” You gasp, looking around and trying to spot any marathon runners. 

“No! There’s no marathon happening, you moron.” 

You purse your lips, disappointed at the fact that potential entertainment for the afternoon was gone. 

“That’s not ideal. But can I still get my ice latte?” 

“Yeah, sure. Don’t you need to visit the restroom though?” 

“Nah, I got a strong bladder. I can handle anything.” You reply proudly.

“No you don’t.” Nicole’s blunt response stabs your inflated ego, and you practically shrink in your seat.

“Just get me my ice latte please.” You mutter, hanging up before she can wound you further. You sigh, kicking your feet up on the now available chair that Nicole had used earlier. The bustling crowd had now died down. You check your watch. 

2.30PM.

It’s almost time for school to end. You wonder if Bug Boy had anything going on this afternoon (besides his usual web-slinging duties, of course). 

Anti-Hero [ 02:32 PM ]: yo

Bug-Boy [ 02:33 PM ]: wasnt aware we had a session today

Anti-Hero [ 02:33 PM ]: we dont

Bug-Boy [ 02:33 PM ]: then?

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: idk i was bored\

Bug-Boy [ 02:33 PM ]: i would liek to take this opportunity to let you know that i am in fact, not a fidget spinner

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: aw man :/

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: was hoping you were

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: anyw wyd :)

Bug-Boy [ 02:34 PM ]: why you wanna know?

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: smh smh im just making conversation

Anti-Hero [ 02:34 PM ]: im not that bad a person !

Bug-Boy [ 02:34 PM ]: my friends dragging me to this caricature booth on fifth avenue. She caught me buying some food.

Fifth Avenue?

Oh no.

You immediately look up and scan the crowd, spotting Nicole and Michael next to the person you dreaded seeing the most in this very moment.

Bug Boy. Well, Miles Morales, to be accurate.

You have to get out of here. 

For the love of God-

You can’t let him see you. Not here. Not when he only knows you as Ray Paynt. Sure, you’d probably tell him your real identity one day, just not today of all days. You scramble out of your seat, but your foot gets caught on an uneven tile on the sidewalk, falling flat on your face with a cry. 

You quickly get to your feet with a pained grunt, ignoring the sting on your arms and the ache in your knees from the sudden fall. You spot someone entering an alleyway only a few feet ahead. You run toward it, all but flinging yourself against the brick wall as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the blood rushing through them as you pray desperately that they didn’t notice.

“Hello dear customer! Come right this way for a caricature drawn by our very own in-house artist!” Nicole drags an amused Miles to the booth, only to stop in her tracks when she sees no one there. Her lips purse, brows furrowing into a glare as she processes the clear lack of the main artist for the booth.

“Did you see her?” She asks Michael, who can only shrug hopelessly. You watch her groan, sliding a hand down her face. “I knew she had a weak bladder,” She mutters. She drags Miles behind the booth, plopping him down in your seat and handing him the drawing pad you’d been using earlier. 

“Wha- I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I got stuff…”

“What was that?” Nicole glares at Miles who shifts in his seat. 

“Nothing,” He replies with a defeated sigh. “I can only stay till four,” He reminds, picking up a pencil and beginning to draw another customer who sits down in front of him. 

“She should be back by then.” 

You lean against the wall, tilting your head up and letting yourself breathe deeply. That was close. You couldn’t risk it happening again. For a while, you’d forgotten that he knew Nicole and the rest too. Five minutes pass by quickly, though it feels like an eternity. 

Should you risk a look….?

Risking a glance around the corner, you spot Miles chatting gaily to both Michael and Nicole who’s nodding every now and then before chasing away Michael so he could continue promoting the booth.

You can vaguely hear what they’re saying, the lack of people around making it easier for you to eavesdrop.

“So, how’ve you been?” Nicole leans back against her chair, sipping away on the latte she’d bought for you. She did buy it with her money, after all. Plus, you weren’t even here to drink it so she might as well.

“I’ve been good. New school, new friends, lots of classes…” Miles chuckles, sliding his headphones off his neck and storing them safely in his bag for the time being. He twirls his pencil in his fingers absentmindedly.

“New friends? Bet they’ve been taking up so much of your time that you forgot about your old ones.” Nicole doesn’t bother to hide the bitter venom in her words, watching him flinch with a guilty smile. 

She sighs. “Look, we miss you Miles.”

“I miss you guys too. I’ve just been really busy lately.” 

“With what?”

“Just…homework.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Nicole allowing the incredibly awkward silence to envelop her friend’s entire being with each passing second. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Please do.”

It’s not like he can just tell everyone what’s been going on, you realize, your lower lip pursing slightly at his defeated tone. Do his parents even know about him being Spiderman? You highly doubt it, especially since you’re around the same age. Your parents would definitely freak out if you reveal a hidden vigilante identity out of nowhere. 

Being a superhero must be tough. You’d heard about the countless robbers, pickpockets, and criminals that he’d faced off against. There was one group who robbed an ATM machine a while back with batman masks. It even made it to the front page of the Daily Bugle. They had guns and duffel bags, the very signature items of an experienced group of criminals. 

He’d faced them alone.

It’s no wonder he didn’t tell his parents. There must be people out there dying to get his identity. They’re part of the problem.

You’re part of the problem.

This realization stuns you. You can hardly blame him for being so cautious, much less distrust you. Sure, the trip to the cafe was fun, but there's still been endless tension and distance between you both. 

You shake your head stubbornly. Get your head in the game, you’re only in this situation because of your own ineptitude and inability to produce even a decent piece of art without needing a muse to help. 

A tinge of guilt infringes on your conscience. Your cheeks feel hot with shame, and you press your hands to your face in a lousy attempt to cool them down. God, this is pathetic. This is so, so pathetic.

All the more reason to get it done and over with as soon as possible.

“Well, I gotta dip. I gotta meet my parents for dinner.” You peer around the edge of the wall once more, watching him grab his bag and walk off in the opposite direction. He tenses, turning around and staring straight in your direction. You dart your head back behind the safety of the red-brick wall, panic striking your heart in one swift blow.

Was he gone? 

You angle your phone to see him in the reflection, thanking the gods above for the existence of the Percy Jackson movies. If it’s one survival skill you’ve learnt, it’s how to use your phone screen’s reflection to subtly check if people behind are still present.

It’s also the only survival skill that actually mattered in those movies. God, those teenagers were dumb.

You spot Miles shrug and turn back, resuming his trek back home. After you’ve confirmed that he’s truly gone, you step out from behind the alleyway and lightly jog back over to Nicole who’s still sipping away with her feet kicked up on your chair. She watches you approach with raised brows, eyeing your dishevelled state.

“Did the toilet eat you alive? ‘Cause you look like sh-”

“I fell down.” You interrupt her with a pointed stare at her shoes. She shrugs, taking them off and sitting back upright in her own chair before handing you the now half-finished latte. You take a large sip, sighing blissfully from the sweet, sweet relief the cold beverage provides you with. 

“Some stomach ache that must’ve been. You just missed Morales.” Nicole remarks. Your shoulders tense, choking on another small sip of your coffee. The back of your throat burns from the sudden reflux, and you force yourself to swallow. 

The coughs gradually subside, and you’re made aware of the fact that she had been silently watching you practically gasp for air with disinterest in her eyes. “Coffee.” She orders, and you hand the cup over to her before wiping the involuntary tears that had formed in your eyes.

“We’re gonna be hanging out this Sunday with the rest.” She cooly informs you, nibbling on the tip of the straw. 

“This Sunday?” You almost choke again, this time from the air you’d suddenly inhaled out of shock. 

“Yea, what’s up? I thought you said you could make it.” Nicole gives you an odd look, stirring the remaining coffee with the straw. The ice inside rattles noisily, serving as a way to snap you back to your senses from the ice-cold panic that settles in your stomach.

“Y-yeah, I can make it.” You nod slowly, pulling out your phone and opening the chat between you and Morales. “I can make it.” You repeat, fingers hesitating to type.

— — — — — 

Nickole [ 09:22 PM ]: why is my name still this stupid nickname you set

ForeverUnstupid [ 09:25 PM ]: because its fun! :]

Nickole [ 09:30 PM ]: no. 

ForeverUnstupid [ 09:30 PM ]: :[

Nickole [ 09:31 PM ]: anyw, remember this sunday’s hangout. Miles will be there so be on your best behaviour and stuff

- [ ForeverUnstupid ] has changed [ Nickole ] to [ mOM ] -

- [ mOM ] has changed [ ForeverUnstupid ] to [ ForeverLacking ] -

ForeverLacking [ 09:30 PM ]: :[[[[[ 

ForeverLacking [ 09:30 PM ]: unbelievable.

— — — — — 

Anti-Hero [ 09:30 PM ]: you did a good job today!

Bug-Boy [ 09:30 PM ]: what r u talking about

Anti-Hero [ 09:35 PM ]: that was self affirmation. you should practice it sometime

Anti-Hero [ 09:35 PM ]: - has sent an image -

Bug-Boy [ 09:37 PM ]: why did you send me a picture of your latte

Anti-Hero [ 09:37 PM ]: oh whoops wrong pic hol up

Anti-Hero [ 09:37 PM ]: - has sent an image -

Bug-Boy [ 09:37 PM ]: looks good actually. 

Anti-Hero [ 09:40 PM ]: ik :]

Anti-Hero [ 09:40 PM ]: thanks for bein my muse. heres a bouquet of flowers for ya

Anti-Hero [ 09:42 PM ]: - has sent an image -

Bug-Boy [ 09:43 PM ]: i signed the contract. kinda have to be :/

Bug-Boy [ 09:43 PM ]: thanks for the flowers tho

Anti-Hero [ 09:45 PM ]: ok ok i get it i already apologized >:[

Bug-Boy [ 09:45 PM ]: not enough

Anti-Hero [ 09:45 PM ]: clearly.

— — — — — — — — — — 

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[indigos-shits-and-giggles]

homosexual.txt

(yes that is what I named the google doc I wrote this in)

Reblogs greatly appreciated! AO3 Link

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“So, like… what’s your name?”

A question Wes expects, but always dreads.

It glances up from his notebook at the man sitting opposite to it for a brief moment, squinting at his face to get a gauge for their emotions. The dishevelled, somewhat awkward seeming man appears to glance away the second their gaze meets, though Wes can’t really tell from the mop of long, curly brown hair that covers his eyes. Wes doesn’t blame them, though, it isn’t like it was ever one to enjoy eye contact either.

Besides, he can still read the stranger’s emotions just fine. It isn’t hard to pick up on his anxiety from the way they idly pick at the skin on his knuckles, or to catch onto their subtle skittishness from the way his muscles tenses slightly, as if their body is instinctively preparing to flee at the slightest motion. Though, it also notices his genuine attempt at being curious in the way their head tilts slightly towards him, trying to hear it better. And of course, Wes notices that smile; a small, awkward little half smile that holds an earnest friendliness he hasn’t seen in a lot of people, a spark of kindness it finds himself wanting to shield.

“He’s got a cute smile,” Wes thinks before it can stop himself, and it quickly glances down at his notes to hide the embarrassment that flashes on its face in a split second, trying to keep up that cold, bitter demeanour he’d forged to protect itself.

Remembering he has to actually answer the strange man’s question, it adjusts his glasses as it replies in a calm voice, “No thank you. I don’t want to give you my name.”

Wes swallows, inhaling as he braces itself for the usual responses his refusal receives; confusion, irritation, and even anger that it doesn’t want to give something as simple as a name.

“Oh,” The brown haired stranger comments after a long pause, “Well… I’m See. Just See.”

Wes blinks, surprised by how nonchalant this “See” individual seems to be. Sure, it can still pick up on their confusion without even looking at him, based on how experienced he is with this very same conversation, but he seems to decide it’s more polite to not pry and just introduces themself instead. See seems to be trying their best to navigate this conversation properly, which Wes can’t help but appreciate.

So, Wes lets the barest trace of a smile show on his face as it replies, “It’s nice to meet you, See.”

Silence follows Wes’ response, an uncomfortable silence both clearly want to fill but don’t know how to. Wes takes the time to flip to an empty page in his notebook, before writing See’s name at the top of the lined page in all-caps, taking note of anything that could be important to its private investigations. See doesn’t seem like someone that’d be relevant to his search, but it still likes to keep notes on any interesting people he meets in case it can get that one step closer to reuniting with his brother again. It’s so, so close, he can feel it, it just needs to find that one more clue, find one more thread to tie together, it always got Ridley out of messes, he HAS to—

“…why, uh, why don’t you want me to know your name?” See asks, jarring Wes from its thoughts. A feeble attempt to make conversation, to break the tense silence that had settled between them.

Wes sighs, trying to remind himself that people have perfectly benign reasons to want to know that and it shouldn’t lash out at the stranger immediately unless he’s got a good gauge on their motives. It glances up at See with a raised eyebrow, and his exhaustion from many sleepless nights causes its tone to be a bit sharper than he intends as it replies, “Because I just don’t want you to.”

The reaction Wes receives is far different from what he’s grown to expect, and it’s surprised by the sudden pang of guilt that stabs at his heart from the sight before it. Instantly, See seems to deflate, the smile on his face that’s (in Wes’ objective opinion) absolutely adorable falters for just a moment, and their face twists with sudden alarm as he quickly stammers, “I’m sorry, I didn’t.. Did I do something wrong? I promise I didn’t mean any harm, I just-”

“No, no it’s fine!” Wes hurriedly interrupts, his expression softening as it tries to reassure the jumpy man that he’s not upset. It rests his notebook down in its lap so he can see See’s face better, clearly concerned by just how panicked they seem. Trying to keep its voice steady and calm, he clarifies, “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong, promise. I just… like my privacy. A lot. So I generally don’t let people know my name.”

“Oh,” See mumbles, the second time he’d done that in the space of this single conversation, and they seem to visibly relax a little from Wes’ reassurances, “Yeah… yeah, that makes sense.”

That small half-smile returns, if slightly more tentative than before, and Wes picks up its notebook again to hide a smile of his own. The silence that follows feels a bit more comfortable, though it doesn’t last long before See hesitantly questions, “So, what can I call you, then? D’you have, like, a nickname?”

“Nobody,” Wes answers matter-of-factly, “Just call me Nobody.”

See nods for a moment, fidgeting with his green flannel shirt as they consider Wes’ words. Taking a deep breath, he remarks, “Well, I mean that, like, sounds a bit strange. Calling you ‘nobody’, I mean.”

“Well, it’s what everyone calls me.”

“That.. sounds kinda rude. I mean, like.. I mean, I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

Wes’ face hardens a little at See’s words, finding them shockingly kind for a stranger it just met. He regards the messy haired man with a little more suspicion, searching their seemingly genuine smile for a flicker of malice, but it can’t seem to find any. He finds it hard to believe it’s an honest statement with no ulterior motive, but from what Wes can tell, it’s apparently just the other man's somewhat awkward attempt to connect to it.

Still, Wes remains guarded as he snaps suddenly, exhaustion making it defensive, “If it’s my name you want, you’re not getting my name out of me by saying that. You know that, right?”

See raises his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no, I just… I thought maybe I could, like, call you something else,” they explain, nervously wringing his hands.

Wes forces himself to take a breath, noticing just how stressed it’s unintentionally making See. Trying to bite back his sarcasm, it asks, “Like what?”

“Like, uh…” See begins, idly twirling a lock of their hair around his finger.

Wes finds himself looking up from its notebook, listening to See intently despite his previous attempts to seem disinterested.

“Oh! Like.. Buddy!” See cheers, a look of sudden delight and pride on their face that feels almost infectious as Wes struggles to keep its composure.

“Buddy?” Wes repeats, trying to adjust to how the word sounds on his lips, “Why?”

See doesn’t seem to mind Wes’ confusion as he explains, “See, it- it’s like ‘Nobody’, except you’re not nobody, and like.. like, ‘body’ and ‘buddy’ sound similar, so…”

They trail off, seemingly worried that his explanation doesn’t make sense. The glow of pride on their face dims, his grin fading as they sigh softly.

“That, uh, sounds stupid when I say it out loud…” See mutters, his nerves quickly returning as they idly pick at his skin.

“I like it,” Wes blurts out without thinking, a tiny smile unknowingly slipping onto its face. “It’s cute.”

“Like you,” he adds in its head, though he makes sure to not admit that out loud.

“Well, you’re-” See starts, before their jaw snaps shut comically quickly, cutting himself off as an embarrassed blush colours their cheeks.

Wes does a double take as it clicks in its mind what exactly See was about to say, and his face warms with a light, subtle blush on its own. He stares down at its notebook, suddenly finding it hard to think of what to say, or even to think at all.

After a long pause, See clears his throat and says, “Well, I’m gonna, er… go.”

“Uh- alright,” Wes replies, cringing inside at just how awkward he sounds, “See you later, See.”

See chuckles a little, assuming Wes’ joke was intentional, even though it very much wasn’t. “Yeah, I, like, guess you will, Buddy,” they comment, giving Wes double finger guns as he nervously walks away.

Wes sighs, feeling oddly giddy as it watches See leave, reflecting on the conversation they just shared. A memory of See’s awkward, friendly little half-smile slips into his mind’s eye, and it feels its heart race slightly as his lips curl into a sappy smile.

Shaking its head to clear his mind, Wes quickly stops itself, silently cursing himself for getting so distracted. Now isn’t the time to reminisce on some guy, it was supposed to be researching right now. He doesn’t deserve to get all lovey-dovey when Ridley is still out there somewhere, if he’s even still—

Wes catches itself before he can finish that thought, swallowing hard to get rid of the sudden lump in its throat. Trying to distract himself, it turns back to his notebook, deciding it might as well start jotting down some information about See that might be useful. He examines the otherwise blank page for a moment, staring at the name of its new acquaintance for a long, long moment.

Sighing, he picks up its pencil to write his first thought down on the nearly empty paper. His pencil hovers over the space next to See’s name, before it impulsively scribbles a small heart next to it.

And then another.

And another.

[thebindingofpillo]

in the big ol google doc, when esau dies, jacob is completely distraught. how does he try to cope? like i feel like hair pulling as an unhealthy coping mechanism for jacob. in the game, tainted jacob has a bald spot. and jacob seems the kinda guy to pull on his hair until it comes out when under a lotta stress. also, how does laz try to help? laz is shown to be abit more of less sympathetic person.

Another thing, what is Esau after he comes back to haunt jacob? A spirit trying to remind Jacob of his sins, or was it jacobs negative emotions and thoughts that made esau manifest as he is?

Lastly, how does both Jacob and Lazarus deal with esau?

Someone has read that monster of a Google doc????? Waow………

Anyway I feel like Jacob would be super depressed. I like the idea of him pulling out his hair in distress, but also consider: stress so big it just falls out. Lazarus brushes his hair and it just falls out in clumps… Speaking of which, yes, Lazarus is a bit of an ass, he’s not a bad person and Jacob is still his best friend (and future partner). It’s kinda sad but I envisioned Esau’s death as a huge growth opportunity for both of them, Jacob will learn to live as his own person without Esau and Lazarus will grow to be more responsible and less of a prick. He’ll finally realise how much Jacob means to him and will have to confront the fact that he’s not always been the best of friends to him (and Samson too, especially Samson, but that’s for another time) so he’ll try to make up for it.

I guess Lazarus would try and take over for Jacob. Like, taking care of him, making him food, making sure he eats and stuff… Jacob is also disabled, and Esau had been helping him in day-to-day life for the longest time, so Jacob is not only missing a brother but also a caretaker. Lazarus would immediately go to his house and take it from there, keeping tidy, making food etc. etc. he wouldn’t be alone of course, Bethany, Samson and even Eve will gladly stop by to help and make Jacob feel less alone… but also the fact that Jacob blames himself for his brother’s death will not make things easier for them. I feel like all my characters need therapy ngl. Maybe Samson can help him find a therapist…

As for Dark Esau… it’s Esau. He’s back. Basically the main idea was that Esau, in his first life, made some sort of deal with the devil to get revenge on his brother for everything he did to him (the birthright, the blessing etc.) but Jacob always managed to die before him, or before Esau gained his memories back, so he could never truly get revenge until now. This idea is still a bit fuzzy tho, don’t treat it like gospel. I also liked the idea that Esau’s rage is what constantly brought him back to life over and over, he just couldn’t let go. And not only because of Jacob! Esau’s grudge is also directed towards Isaac!!! Yes, Jacob stole his birthright but Isaac also refused to give him his blessing (and for a very stupid reason too!). And probably towards Rebekah too, since she was the one who originally pitted them against eachother… what I’m trying to say is that Esau has a huge grudge against his whole family, and nobody is safe.

When Esau started manifesting it was for Jacob only, and the man really thought he was going insane since nobody but him seemed to be able to see him. Lazarus was skeptical at first, but he’s dealt with enough supernatural bullshit (like being on a first name basis with the literal angel of death, knowing that demons exist etc. etc.) so while he thinks Jacob is only having a mental breakdown, but he’s still open to the possibility of him being actually haunted by his brother.

As for resolving the situation… eeeeeeh that’s still a bit fuzzy tbh. Like my main idea was that this situation would progressively escalate until Lazarus and Jacob had to find help with Judas and the others (because Apollyon is real powerful, Azazel is a demon and he might help, even Eden could chip in and lend a hand) but THEN Bethany would explode because of Dogma, and even Esau can’t bear to see someone he loved so much in so much pain, and I had this idea he would try and fight Dogma to save her and in doing so his should would be cleansed and ascend to heaven? It’s still a bit fuzzy, but I also think Isaac and Rebekah apologising could help… like it wouldn’t really do anything for Esau, but maybe it could help him let go of his anger and move on. Hell you know what? I’ll throw in Cain too, if someone knows what it’s like to kill your own brother and why it’s a bad thing it’s him! And his whole arc is about the importance of letting go and not let the past consume you etc. etc. it’s too perfect, he can help the flaming ghost. I also know how to shove it in the action: Dark Esau has completely reverted to his old memories and personality, which means he can only speak ancient Hebrew, like in Bible times. And Cain is the only one who can understand him! And then thanks to Cain he could unlock his most recent memories and realise he’s being stupid.

[snakegorl212006]

Diasomnia  Journal Entries

---------------Malleus Draconia----------------------------- -Called him Tsunotarou/Hornton for the longest time -Vil,surprisingly, told me his actual name -despite being a ghost who’s supposed to reside and be found mostly in his own wing, he’s actually mostly founded in the woods outside my house -i did some digging to this guy and all i see are legends -malleus was cruel and cunning individual -he ruled the land with a iron fist and would punish anyone getting in his way -i asked him about it to which he only made him said -”even now stories. The only history they see of me is only filled with blood and brimstone” -he tells his own story and the many names he has been called. -over the years even after death, people seek any means into destroying him   -i asked him what made him bite the dust (and then explaining that i'm asking him how he died as he doesn't know who Queen is.) -he told me he placed a curse on these grounds which cost him his life -whatever ritual he did permanently made him part of this castle of a wing -though,especially after what happened to my door, i don’t underestimate the guy -but he acts like a complete and total sweet heart -unlike azul who half of the time he’s most likely faking, he’s completely genuine -but i would say. Possessive should be his middle name -literally would not like for me to leave at all -i sometimes accidentally overhear conversations between lilia and him about some diabolical plans to lock me away or finding out some elaborate way to get an attachment. -i’m hoping still i don’t have to figure out what he’s like when he doesn't get his way (Aka; me not consenting to have an attachment.)

-----------------------Silver------------------------------ -that explains why there’s so much wildlife -something about this guy literally makes him the embodiment of every disney princess -he’s also a little sleeping beauty -not only he has a pretty face but, he’s prolonged to sleep spells -he says he always had this problem as long as he could remember -he sometimes pops out of nowhere and i blame lilia and malleus for this behavior -an illness is what got him unfortunately -he’s also very sweet. -he protects me from lilia’s cooking(forever grateful) -silver also comes to me for advice as lilia,unlike everyone else here, keeps up with modern times -i had to become his personal google translator so he can understand his father lilia -he’s also almost as gullible as kalim -I just happen to idly spin my broom stick around and now Silver thinks I know my way around weapons,specifically a sword. -he had a desire to train with me one day -i asked him what killed him and he told me he got caught with a plague -i felt bad for him for he’s genuinely pretty sweet -terrible way to go down that’s for sure -he told me that lilia saved his life with a last minute attachment,by choice, which allowed him to become a ghost -”sebek and others though i recovered fully due to this no knowing the truth that i was just a ghost like lord malleus and sir lilia”

------------Sebek Zigvolt------------------------------------ -loud -ill tempered -borderline racist -has a high distance for humans which is ironic to say the least -bost about his abilities often and love to talk about malleus -he is super smart and knows a lot in terms of core subjects -he actually doesn't walk around with that heavy armor 24/7 -very protective of his master and idolized him -i did ask him how he pasted which got him boating how he was slain by the hands of his master -i said i was sorry and he got angry and said “Being slain by Wakasama is the greatest honor a warrior could achieve” -i played along and apologize -he’s strong and often helps me with cleaning and arranging things -he expressed great happiness when i gifted him a old painting of malleus(who i bought from sam) -aside from the usual complaining and worshiping the grounds that malleus walks across, he’s really……obsessed with my demise -half of the time i can’t comprehend if he hates me or wants me to become a ghost like them -i mean i’m human and he doesn't like me much but he always is present and advocates with any idea on how to get me to turn into one of them…

--------Lilia Vanrouge------------------------------- -a cryptic old man with the personality and body of a young man in his early twenties - i also feel like he really wants me dead, yet he treats me like he’ve been best friends for the longest time -likes to tell interesting stories of his youth and his time with malleus -he actually gains a camera at some point in time and took pictures which weren’t half bad. -there is a painting somewhere in this wing were a old full body portrait of lilia back when he was army general(still tying to find but he keeps actively moving the dang painting 😤) -based on this i can confidently assume that they have been alive for over 700 years -he said i wasn't far off yet never elaborated further -he makes many,and i mean many, attempts to make me feel comfortable in the Diasomnia wing -this involves in locking me in the wing possibly taking the same idea from jamil’s attempts -bats sometimes flutter around him which ended up being one more creature to take care of -for some odd reason he’s more connected to modern day news ,topics and trends. -he has requested to have a laptop but the way the wing is set up, he has to used electrical outlets from other wings -which then he elightens me of the capacity of the ghost that resides here -this is when i figured out about their paranormal magic and energy usage -this explains on how malleus was able to travel to the woods outside the main house and how some ghost actual know each other -for example leona,who hates him, and vil knows about malleus

[stardustshelb]

"Strawberry" Part Three

TW: Language and sexual content

Word count: 7,470

Chapter Seven 

I flipped over my pillow to let the cool side rest against my face. How could I possibly sleep now that I know who Josh really is? I had spent the last two hours spiraling out of control looking up every possible piece of information about him and the band. The weird moments I witnessed from earlier all made sense: The wearing of the sunglasses inside, the Google Voice phone number, the change in his mannerisms when I mentioned a tour. Oh, and I recognized his “assistant” alright. No, instead he’s the lead guitarist and Josh’s twin brother in the band. I didn’t know how I didn’t see it before. And I didn’t know if I was more angry or shocked. I couldn’t totally blame him for not telling me the truth. Then again, why was I so willing to accept that this connection we have is based on lies? I grabbed my phone off of the nightstand to check the time. 1:19 shined directly into my eyes. Riley and the girls will be landing in Nashville in a little over 12 hours. I really needed to get some sleep. I was physically and mentally exhausted, but my thoughts kept circling back to Josh. Do I tell him that I know? Do I pretend that I don't? Do I even contact him at all? 

I got up and found my medicine bag on the bathroom counter. I grabbed my bottle of melatonin and took two pills. I was going to need an extra dose to sleep this madness off. I stared at myself in the mirror wondering how I even got into this situation in the first place. I walked back to my bed to see my phone lit up on the nightstand. I stared at the screen to see Plagiarism’s name across it. 

Plagiarism: “Let me know if you can slip away this weekend. I’d love to see…and taste you again.”

I immediately flipped my phone face down and pulled the covers over my head. Can one overdose on melatonin? I’m going to need something stronger to get any real sleep. I closed my eyes and started a forced breathing routine, one of my anxiety coping skills, to get my heart rate to lessen. I unclenched my jaw and focused on my breathing to get some much-needed rest. Maybe this will have all been a dream and I will forget it by morning.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring; I rolled over and grabbed my phone to silence its ringing. I still felt exhausted despite getting my usual six hours of sleep. I felt like I was coming out of a coma because I started to question what was even reality. There’s no way last night was real. As soon as I shut off the alarm, I could see Plagiarism’s text was still on my phone. Ok, so last night really happened. 

I decided to leave his text unanswered until I knew what the hell I was going to do. I desperately wanted Riley’s advice but the last thing I wanted to do was drag my drama into her bachelorette weekend. As her maid of honor, my focus needed to be solely on her. I got up and headed into the kitchen to start myself a cup of coffee before getting in the shower. I searched the cabinets for a mug and picked out a K-Cup from the carousel of coffees provided by the Airbnb host. I opted for a dark roast because I needed all of the caffeine I could get. I set up the Keurig and then went to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  

I stepped into the warm water coming from the shower head and washed last night’s memories off of me. Stop thinking about him. I wish he were in this shower with me. Stop it. I wish I could return the favor and make him feel as amazing as he made me feel. Stop. I wasn’t sure if the steam rising in the air was from the water or from my thoughts of him. 

I heard my phone ringing and practically screamed as I was shaken from my thoughts. I wrapped a towel around my body and sprinted across the hallway to grab my phone. “Please don’t be him,” I said aloud as I checked the screen. “Well, shit, not him either,” I said in a sarcastic tone before answering the call.

“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Hey,” Kenneth said. I stared at my feet wondering what to say to him. We normally live separate lives back home. With his business being in the city, I’m typically washing my plate in the sink when he comes home for dinner. Our conversations lasted only a few words at a time. On the weekends, we lived our lives separately despite being in the same space. I find errands to run in town and he finds hobbies to complete at home; we simply coexist. It’s our normalcy.

“So, what are y’all doing tonight?” Kenneth asked, breaking the silence.

“I need to look at the itinerary Riley made to be sure, but I think we have reservations for dinner and then we will head to Broadway since it’s a Saturday night,” I said.

“Be careful,” Kenneth said. Where did this sentiment come from? Was he actually missing me?

“Thanks, we will be,” I said. 

“The bed sure was lonely without you last night. Sassy didn’t even jump into bed,” he said.

“Tell her I’ll be home in a few days,” I said, disregarding his initial comment. Even when our bodies were mere inches from one another, I always felt lonely in that bed.

“Again with the damn dog,” he said in an angry tone. He still hadn’t sent me a picture of her like I had asked, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You know I miss you too,” I lied.

Riley and her friends would be at the Airbnb any moment. I still hadn’t texted Josh back because I wasn’t sure what I would even say to him. Reality hadn’t yet set in that a literal rock star was in between my legs last night. I did one last walk through the Airbnb to make sure everything was tidy and perfect when I heard a knock at the door. Why would the girls knock?

I opened the front door to find a young man holding a large bouquet of a dozen white roses and a box.

“Yes?” I asked the boy in uniform.

“I have a delivery for…Strawberry,” he said with a nervous pause. My jaw practically dropped to the ground. Before I could process what was happening, the boy was handing me the floral arrangement and white box. I accepted the surprise gifts and walked back inside to put them on the dining room table. I opened the mysterious box to find a dozen chocolate covered strawberries. I love an innuendo. I removed the card from the bouquet; I couldn’t let Riley see that the flowers weren’t for her. I planned to pretend that I ordered all of this for her when she got here. I opened the envelope and read the message on the card: “Thinking of you… -J” Good God. I held the card to my chest as I leaned in to smell the flowers. They were gorgeous and fully bloomed. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone sent me flowers. I heard the sound of car doors shutting and peaked out the window. Riley and her friends made it and were unloading their luggage from the rental car. I quickly ran to the room that I claimed and tucked the card from Josh in my suitcase. I grabbed my phone off the charger and noticed I had a text from Plagiarism.

Plagiarism: “Are you ok?”

Me: “Yes?”

Plagiarism: “Ok, just checking because I hadn’t heard from you.”

Me: “Thank you for my surprises.”

Plagiarism: “I’m full of them.”

Before I could respond, I heard Riley clear her throat while standing in my doorway. I was so involved in his texts that I didn’t even hear the girls come in. I tossed my phone on the bed and ran to give her the biggest hug. I wanted to cry because I was so happy to see her. It had been nearly six months since we had seen each other. You know that one person in your life who is your constant form of love and support? That’s my Riley. I squeezed her until she started to protest. “Ok, ok, let me go,” she said laughing. I finally set her free from the confines of my hug. 

“You look so beautiful!” I exclaimed as I admired her white velour tracksuit. No doubt it was brand new just for the trip.

“Check out the back,” she said with a grin as she turned around. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a hot pink ribbon so it was easy to read the word ‘BRIDE’ embroidered across her back. 

“I love it!” I said. 

“We have lots to discuss, ma’am,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at me. “But we can do that later. Come on, I want you to meet some of my friends,” she said as she pulled me into the living room. I followed behind her until the distant chatter and laughter was getting louder. On the couch sat three girls whom I immediately recognized from Riley’s Instagram posts. The “Nashville Babes” were finally together under the same roof. I tried to fight the urge of feeling socially awkward because I felt like I was the odd-man-out. While two of them traveled from different places, it was obvious that they all shared a close friendship. Maybe if I had been more involved in the group text, I wouldn’t feel like I was such an outsider.

I smiled as Riley made my introduction to the group but I couldn’t help the weird vibe I received from Abby, Riley’s newest friend and colleague. I didn’t like the expression on her face as she stared at me. I know it’s probably my anxiety making me overthink things, but I definitely didn’t feel like she was a fan of me. But then again, why should she be? 

Chapter Eight

I tried to shake the uneasy feeling off as we all got dressed and ready for our first night out. I examined the girls in their short skirts as a sea of hot pink glitter and sequins paraded through the living room. I looked down at my hot pink jumpsuit that I found on Amazon. I was so excited that I put it on as soon as it was delivered. I even held a fashion show for Riley on FaceTime. I once felt so hot in this outfit, but now I felt indifferent when I realized that I was once again the only one in the group who didn’t fit in. Riley wore a short, tight white dress with silver sequined booties. Her blonde hair cascaded into curls down her back. She looked like a total knockout. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Abby exclaimed as she started to rummage through her suitcase. She pulled out a rectangular box and handed it to Riley. Riley opened it and pulled out a hot pink sash that read “Bride to Be” across it in white glitter. 

“Oh my gosh! How cute!” Riley squealed as she took it out of the box. Abby jumped up with safety pins in her hand to help Riley put it on. I couldn’t help but to feel a pang of jealousy. I should have thought about that. Way to go, maid of dishonor.

“Let’s get some group pictures before we leave,” Riley’s friend Brooke said. 

“I brought my tripod!” Abby exclaimed happily. Ok, what doesn’t this girl think of?

“You’re always so prepared,” Riley said, kissing Abby on the side of her head. 

We took what felt like 500 pictures before we were finally ready to leave for our dinner reservation. I grabbed my phone, lipstick and wallet and stuffed them inside the wristlet purse I bought for the weekend. We packed into the rental car, and I was glad Abby was in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t so bad sitting in the backseat with Riley’s friends Brooke and Maddie. They were nice; Maddie even volunteered to sit in the middle. 

“Who wants to connect their phone to the car to play some music?” Brooke asked.

“I recently discovered a band I think you might like, Riley,” I said aloud.

“I actually made a Nash Bash playlist on Spotify for the weekend,” Abby said before Riley could respond. Of course she did.

“Hell yeah!” Maddie exclaimed as she reached for Abby’s phone. Maddie scrolled until she found the playlist and we listened to a plethora of pop music. I looked out the window and tried to remind myself that this was what a bachelorette weekend was all about. I concentrated on my breathing as the girls in the car yelled the lyrics to “WAP” at the top of their lungs. I felt my phone vibrate in my purse, and to my surprise, the name Plagiarism was on my screen with the message: “I’m free tonight.” I felt my face start to blush as I recalled what happened between us just last night. Dreaming of his touch, I desperately wished that I was free tonight too. I held the message down to “love” it before putting my phone back in my purse.

“Ooooh, is your husband sexting you?” I heard Abby ask. I looked up and saw that she was staring at me in the rearview mirror.

“I’m not married,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh, Riley said you were still with your high school sweetheart. I just assumed you’d be married,” she said. I studied her face in the mirror. I couldn’t quite place the look, but I didn’t like it. Or maybe I just didn’t like her.

“Not married yet,” Riley answered as she reached her arm back from the passenger seat to put her hand on my knee. I knew it was her way of comforting me. 

We pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant that Riley apparently had to reserve six months in advance. It was one of the top rated spots in Nashville according to her. I wanted to cry when I looked up the menu online and saw the most affordable entree was $39 and that was for a damn salad. We walked inside and Abby led the way to the host stand to check us in. I glanced around this “must-do” restaurant and saw white linens draped across every tabletop. A fireplace roared in the middle of the lobby. I heard classical music performed live by a pianist in the corner of the lobby. I bet I was the only woman in the whole place not in a dress. I looked down at my jumpsuit and tried to remember the sheer happiness I felt when I tried it on for the first time. As if she could sense my uneasiness, Riley grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. 

“This way, please,” the man from the host stand said as he waved for us to follow him. We made our way through the restaurant and walked past tables of designer clothes, watches, perfumes, and bags. Before we made it to our table, I heard a wild laugh that stopped me in my tracks. I knew that laugh. I stopped following the girls and turned to find where the laugh was coming from. Immediately, I locked eyes with a familiar face. The assistant from the plane–no, he’s not an assistant. Jake. I could tell that he was studying me as well trying to recall where he knew me from. It was then that I realized Josh was sitting across from him with his back to me. I could recognize his hair anywhere. Holy shit. I realized that I had been standing and staring at their table like a lunatic, so I tried to find where my table was. While I glanced across the room looking for hot pink sequins to catch my eye, I looked back at his table to find Josh was now turned around. When I made eye contact with him, he flashed that beautiful smile of his. I returned a smile to him when I saw Riley waving at me from the corner of my eye. I made my way to our table and tried to act as normal as possible.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Riley whispered into my ear.

“Yes,” I said quietly, folding the white napkin across my lap.

“Did you tell him we would be here?” she asked. I looked up at her face with a shocked expression in my eyes.

“Of course not!” I whispered back.

“Secrets don’t make friends,” Abby said from across the table with a smug look on her face. Good thing I’m not your friend.

“What are we drinking?” Riley interjected with her impeccable timing. 

“How about we order a bottle of wine for the table?” Abby asked. I didn’t even want to know how much that would cost, but I was along for the ride to give Riley the best weekend she deserved. I would worry about my credit card bill next month. 

Our server approached the table holding a bottle of champagne in his arm like he was presenting us with a gift. “A bottle of champagne for the celebration,” he held out to us. Behind him, another server began placing champagne flutes in front of all of us while the man with the bottle prepared to pour.

“Oh, we didn’t order anything–” Brooke began.

“This was sent over as a gift,” the server responded as he finished pouring her glass. I turned around to see Josh raising his glass to me. That sneaky son of a bitch. I turned back around to see Riley narrowed her eyes at me as if she could read my mind. 

“To Riley,” I said as I held up my glass of champagne. 

“To Riley,” the girls repeated as we raised our glasses together. Before I took a sip, I turned back to Josh and raised my glass to him. He gave me a wink and I wanted to melt to the floor. I sipped on the glass of champagne and allowed myself to let loose a little tonight. Fuck Kenneth, Abby, the outrageous prices of this restaurant—I was bound and determined to have a great night.

We ordered our entrees and were making small talk about Riley’s wedding plans when I felt my phone buzz in my wristlet. I checked the screen to see his name. Plagiarism: “Meet me near the bathrooms.” I slid my phone back in my purse and took another sip of the champagne.

“Excuse me, ladies. I’m going to run to the restroom real quick,” I said as I began to stand up.

“I can go with you,” Riley began to offer.

“No, it’s ok. Trust me,” I said. I pushed in my chair and made my way to the hallway where the bathrooms were. When I rounded the corner, I found Josh standing there waiting on me. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he said laughing.

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me,” I said as I bit my lip.

“You look magnificent,” he said as I watched his eyes trail up my body. He moved closer to me, closing the space between us. I could feel my chest tighten as I struggled to breathe. I took a deep breath and inhaled his cologne. “I love a good jumpsuit.”

“Thank you. And thank you for everything today. The flowers, strawberries, champagne… You’ve really done too much,” I said. As soon as I finished speaking, he leaned in and kissed me. I met his kiss by pulling his bottom lip into my mouth and gave it a gentle bite. I felt his tongue swirl against mine. His hands moved across my back and up into my hair. He pushed me against the wall and moved his mouth to start kissing my neck.

“I want to taste you right now,” he whispered as he continued to kiss my neck. 

“Ahem,” we heard a man clearing his throat as he moved past us to walk into the restroom. We both pulled away and stared at each other before laughing. 

“Let’s continue this later,” Josh whispered into my ear. 

“I can’t. We’re going out tonight,” I said.

“I’ll come by when you get home and sneak in when the girls go to bed. The ol’ high school crush climbing through the window bull shit,” he said with a laugh. I answered his offer with a kiss. Thinking about what he did to me with his tongue last night made me want to pass out right there in the hallway. 

“I’ll text you when we’re headed back to the Airbnb,” I said trying to hide my smile.

“I’ll wait up,” he said as he kissed me on the cheek. He left the hallway and walked back into the restaurant. Before going back to our table, I decided I should probably take a glimpse at myself in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like I had just made out with someone. I walked into the women’s bathroom and fixed my hair. I pulled out my lipstick from my purse to reapply when the door opened behind me. 

“Are you shitting me?” Riley asked as she walked toward me at the sink. I bent down to make sure nobody was in the stalls who could hear us. 

“I just saw him leave the bathroom hallway,” Riley said.

“Yes, we had a conversation,” I said, applying my lipstick.

“Oh, I’m sure there was a whole lot of talking going on,” Riley said as she put her hands on her hips. I looked up to see her giving me the look in the mirror. I put the cap back on my lipstick and turned to face her.

“Riley, I love you. I’m here for you. This is your weekend. Now let’s go eat,” I said, pulling on her arm.

“I just feel like there is so much you’re not telling me,” she said without budging.

“I promise I will fill you in later,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “Now come on before they think I’m shitting my brains out in here,” I said laughing.

“No, literally that’s why I told them I had to come check on you,” Riley said following me out of the bathroom.

After we finished dinner, we climbed into the car and headed toward the bar scene on Broadway. Abby so kindly volunteered to be the DD for tonight, and although I wasn’t planning on getting drunk, I still let her. Besides, I wanted to stick to my mantra from earlier about letting loose and making the most out of this weekend. The first bar we went to was blaring the most God awful country music, but it was packed. Before going in, I slid my engagement ring off and put it in my purse. If I wanted free drinks, I had to look the part. The bouncer let us in without having to pay the cover when he spotted Riley’s bachelorette sash. I’m sure the kiss she blew him helped influence his ever so generous decision. 

We made our way through the crowd of 20-somethings and headed straight towards the bar. We spotted another group of girls who were dressed up in bachelorette garb. I know Nashville is a go-to destination for these types of celebrations. Riley squealed and hugged the other bride-to-be. 

The girls in the other group started chanting, “Shots! Shots! Shots!” I could feel my throat starting to close with the idea of even taking one. I didn’t think we’d start the night off going this hard, but when in Rome, or I guess Nashville. The bartender laid out a line of nine shot glasses with sugar rims and poured some yellow liquid into all of them. 

“What even is that?” I yelled to Riley over the sound of the raucous music and crowd.

“Lemon drops!” The bartender answered for her. Riley started grabbing the glasses and handing them out to everyone in both bridal groups. Abby grabbed one and I looked at her confusingly. I guess one shot wouldn’t hurt.

The other bride raised her shot glass to Riley and yelled, “To sucking the same dick forever!” I nearly choked before the glass even touched my lips. That’s one way to look at marriage. I winced as I threw back the shot preparing for the burn, but I was pleasantly surprised. It was smooth, delicious, and just tasted like lemonade. I could drink these all night. 

“Another!” Abby yelled. The bartender saluted her and took our glasses back to prepare for another round.

“Just be ok to drive later, ok?” I leaned in to tell Abby.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with an annoyed tone.

When the bartender pushed another line of shots to us, we each grabbed one. I could see Riley was trying to think of something witty to say for our second round.

She cleared her throat. “To love, leather, and lace… And sitting on someone’s face!” she yelled aloud. Now that I could make a toast to because I remembered Josh’s talented tongue as I downed the shot. 

After shooting my fourth lemon drop, I definitely started to feel the effects of the liquor. We made our way to the dancefloor and I felt myself loosening up. I didn’t know the song that was playing but I danced as if I choreographed the damn thing. I’m sure I looked like an idiot, but I was drunk, dancing with my best friend, and having a great time. 

Chapter Nine

After we hopped from bar to bar, the girls were getting a little tired and feeling a lotta drunk. I knew I was under the influence, but I was still aware of what was going on. I couldn’t say the same for Riley; she was struggling to stay upright. That’s when we knew it was time to go. Thankfully, Abby stayed true to her word and was sober to drive us back. I climbed into the backseat and pulled out my phone. It took my eyes several seconds to adjust to what I was seeing and even then I couldn’t comprehend what I was reading. Shit, I’m more drunk than I thought.

“Play some damn music or I’m gonna puke!” Riley demanded in a drunken yell. Abby pulled up her playlist from earlier and selected yet another pop song that made all of the girls shriek. 

“Oh shit, are you actually dancing back there?” I heard Abby say. And before I realized it, she was talking about me. I was swaying to the music while still trying to read the messages on my phone. Yep, drunk.

I started to compose my text message to Plagiarism: “I am drunkkkkkk and I want you so bad.”

“Are you on your way back?”

“Yes come over”

“You ok?”

“I want you so badddddddd”

“I can be there in 10 hours but you’d be asleep by then”

“WTF”

“????”

It was then that I realized I wasn’t texting Josh. I was texting Kenneth! Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I quickly swiped to delete our conversation so I wouldn’t make another texting mistake. I started to sweat from the nerves. I rolled down my window to get some fresh air. I was no longer swaying to the music and I felt myself sobering up quickly. I noticed Riley was passed out in the passenger seat while Maddie and Brooke were taking drunk selfies next to me. Don’t freak out… I could play it off tomorrow as being drunk. Surely it wasn’t obvious that I wasn’t meaning to text him.

When we got back to the Airbnb, we all played a role in making sure our bride-to-be made it safely to her bed. We took turns getting her ready: Maddie removed her heels and sash, Abby removed her fake lashes and put her hair up, Brooke put her phone on the charger, and I set out a small trash can next to the bed and placed a bottle of water on her nightstand. 

I said good night to the girls and went to my room to text Josh. I still didn’t know how I wanted to approach confronting him with the information that I discovered, but I figured I would just cross that bridge when he got here. I pulled out my phone and verified that I selected the name Plagiarism from my messages.

Me: “Do you still want to come over?” 

Plagiarism: “Of course I do.”

Me: “The girls are in bed. Text me when you’re in the driveway and I’ll meet you at the door.”

Plagiarism: “See you, soon”

Part of me wanted to stay in my hot pink jumpsuit, especially since Josh had such a reaction to it, but I didn’t want to lay in bed with it on after a night out. I changed into some comfortable pajamas and made my way to the kitchen to eat a chocolate covered strawberry from his delivery this morning. I admired the roses on the table, the ones Riley thanked me for, as I savored the sweet treat. Afterwards, I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth and freshen up everywhere else. By now my drunkenness had definitely worn off and I could thank my texting mishap from earlier for that. I still didn’t know how I was going to play that off when Kenneth called me tomorrow, but I had other things right now to worry about. I heard my phone vibrate and looked down to see a text from Plagiarism: “So should I ring the doorbell 50 times or just beat on the door until you open it?” I rolled my eyes at his joke as I made my way to the living room to let him in. I may be a grown woman, but I felt like I was sneaking my boyfriend in while my parents were asleep. It was kind of exhilarating. I peaked out the window but didn’t see his Jeep in the driveway. Confused, I texted him back.

Me: “Are you sure you went to the right house?”

Plagiarism: “Yes, I am literally standing on the front porch right now.”

I slowly turned the lock on the door to peek outside. Just like he said, there stood Josh. I put my finger over my lips to indicate for him to be silent. I opened the door wider for him to walk in, and when he moved past me, the smell of his cologne consumed me. I’m going to have to find out what that scent is. As I shut the door behind him, I locked it and then he grabbed my hand and led me to my bedroom. I felt every nerve ending in my body get warm. We made our way down the hallway and once we got to my door, he motioned for me to walk in first. I made my way into the room and placed my phone on the nightstand as he shut the bedroom door and locked it. I sat on the bed trying to keep my cool but I felt like I was going to combust at any moment. He made his way over to the bed and sat next to me. He lifted his hand to brush my hair behind my ear and I swear I was about to start floating.

“Where is your Jeep?” I asked him.

“I parked it on the side street so none of your friends would see it in the driveway if they got up early,” he said. I felt my stomach do a cartwheel. So he was planning on staying the night. I was going to suggest that wasn’t a good idea, but then, I wanted to savor the limited time I had left with him. “I’ll just slip out in the morning when you’re all getting ready. How was your first night out in Nashville?” he asked in the most sincere voice.

“It was a blast. Riley partied a little too hard, so she’s currently passed out. I even got a little carried away too,” I said, biting my lip.

He turned his body more to face me like I had all of his attention. “Oh?” He asked.

“Yes, but I’ve sobered up, so all is good,” I said with a laugh. The only intoxication I felt anymore was from being this close to his body.

“When I saw you in the restaurant earlier, I wanted to ditch my friends and take you away immediately,” he said.

“I mean, you got a little taste in the hallway of the restrooms. A really romantic location, I might add,” I said sarcastically. He leaned in close to whisper in my ear, “Oh, I have been thinking about your taste all day.” I immediately sucked in a breath of air with his foreward remark. He pulled away from me to look into my eyes. I studied his brown eyes and almost forgot all of the lies he had told me up until this point. I watched his gaze move from my eyes down to my lips.

“How about we finish what we started earlier?” he asked in such a seductive tone that I felt my cheeks flush. I nodded and he immediately pulled me into a kiss. I felt his tongue part my lips and he kissed me with such passion that I forgot we were trying to be quiet. I moaned into his mouth which seemed to encourage him. He immediately pulled my shirt off over my head and I felt his hands travel frantically up my body. He gripped the sides of my waist and pulled me on top of him. I straddled him as he undid the clasp of my bra behind my back while he continued to kiss me. With my breasts now exposed, he moved his mouth to kiss my chest. I felt him get hard underneath me, and my center was warm and wet. I needed him in a way that I had never needed anything before. 

He lifted me up and turned his body to lay me down on the bed. He moved himself to the floor like he did last night. I knew what was about to happen and I could almost die from anticipation. I felt his hands slowly trail down the sides of my waist as he began to pull my pajama shorts off. 

He asked, “No underwear?”

“I figured I’d save you a step,” I said with a grin. He returned the smile and maintained eye contact as I watched his face get closer to my entrance. As soon as I felt his mouth, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I threw my head back on the satin sheets. Just like before, he performed a magic ritual with his tongue. I felt every twist and turn of his tongue on my clit as he made my back arch. His strong arms gripped my thighs and I inhaled deeply. I grabbed a pillow to put over my face to help stifle the noise as I moaned. I was so close to the feeling of ecstasy; I knew I was seconds away from cuming. I pulled the pillow tighter to my face as if I were trying to smother myself. I screamed with pleasure and Josh’s grip got tighter around my legs. My back arched again and I pushed my body up to where I was practically riding his face; he continued to lick me until I writhed beneath him. I let out another muffled scream into the pillow and felt Josh pull away. He removed the pillow and hovered over me with the most animalistic look in his eyes.

“Joshua Michael, you have ruined me,” I said with a deep sigh.

“Oh, Strawberry, this is just the beginning… Can I fuck you?” He asked. I answered his question by leaning up to start removing his pants. He put his hands on mine as if he were trying to stop me. “I need to hear you say yes before we–,” he began. 

“Fuck yes,” I interrupted as I continued to remove his pants. He was bulging from his underwear and I wanted nothing more than to take him inside of me. He pulled a condom out of his wallet and I watched as he slipped it over his huge dick. He threw the wrapper on the floor and walked over to me on the bed. I stared up at him and waited in anticipation. He slowly climbed on top of me but hesitated before lowering himself. I glanced down to watch him position himself and I gasped when he entered me. Every good feeling I have ever felt up until this very moment would pale into comparison. He started to thrust slowly and I felt every cell in my body burst. I lightly dragged my nails across his back as he kissed my neck. His thrusts became harder and I felt him go deeper inside of me. I felt like my entire body was on fire. I moaned his name into his ear and listened to the sound of our bodies colliding. His teeth sank into my skin and every thrust was more addictive than the last. My orgasm came out of nowhere and I gripped his shoulders so tight that my fingerprints would leave him bruised. As if my release gave him permission, his movements got faster when his lips met mine. I felt his body tense. I moaned his name one last time before feeling him tremble as he came. His forehead fell gently to mine and our sweat mixed together. Both of us struggled to catch our breath as he slipped out of me. I still had yet to open my eyes because I felt as if I were no longer in my physical body. 

After we had taken turns cleaning up in the bathroom across the hall, I anxiously waited for him under the comforter of my bed. I didn’t plan on him staying the night, but now I was looking forward to it. I just wanted to be near him. He came back into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. The only light remaining was the dim glow of the lamp on the nightstand. But the glow from his beautiful smile was all that was needed to illuminate the room. I slid over to make space for him to join me in bed. He was still wearing his sweatpants but kept his shirt off. I cuddled up against his chest and inhaled his enticing aroma. I laid my cheek against his pec and twirled my fingers across his stomach.

“I’m not ready to leave Nashville,” I said quietly.

“I’m never going to be able to eat strawberries again,” he said as he kissed the top of my head. “Nothing will taste as good as you.” 

“Will you come back the next two nights?” I asked, looking him in the eyes.

“I think I can arrange that,” he said with that gapped grin. I snuggled to him tighter. 

“Josh?” I asked, looking down at his waist.

“Yes?” He responded.

“I need to be honest with you, and I’d like for you to be honest with me,” I said with a lump in my throat. I was nervous about confronting him with the truth, but I couldn’t ignore it any longer. He didn’t answer me and instead I felt his body tense as he straightened up next to me.

“I know you aren’t a concert photographer…” I began. I still couldn’t look at him. I wondered what expression he had on his face, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. “I know you’re the lead singer in Greta Van Fleet,” I said with finality.

“I knew I fucked up by putting our playlist on your phone,” he said with a laugh. “When did you figure it out?” 

“Last night after you left…” I admitted.

“And you’re just now telling me?” He asked in a surprised tone.

“I don’t think I’m the one in the wrong here,” I said, getting defensive.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just can’t believe you didn’t say something as soon as you found out,” he said, dragging his fingers over the hand I still had on his stomach. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” I said, finally looking at him.

“When you didn’t recognize me on the plane, I got excited. We have a rule in the band: We don’t fuck fans, so I–” he was saying.

“Wait. Was I just some sort of a conquest to you?” I asked, completely pulling away from his body.

“What?” He asked with a shocked expression on his face. I studied him for a second.

“You said you don’t fuck fans. Was that your only intention all along?” I asked, fighting the tears that I knew were forming in my eyes. 

“Not at all, but listen, I don’t even know your name. You’re only here for a weekend. Jesus, you’re engaged to be married. I just didn’t see this as being anything serious,” he admitted. I was so angry but I was still channeling all of my energy trying not to cry. And the worst part? He was 100% right. Was I living in some fool’s dream world that this weekend was going to last forever? That he was going to fall in love with me and I’d follow him all over the world? I was just another one of his many hook-ups. Riley was right. I reached over and turned off the lamp so I could cry without him noticing. 

“Talk to me. What’s upsetting you?” He asked.

“I guess I thought we had more of a connection, but I guess I was just an easy fuck,” I said allowing the tears to fall now that I was safe in the darkness. What was the most thrilling night of my life, with the best sex I’ve ever had, now turned into an embarrassing nightmare. 

“My intentions were never to hurt you. I thought you and I were on the same page about what we wanted out of this weekend. This wasn’t going to be permanent… How could it be?” He asked in a way that I wasn’t sure was rhetorical or not.

“No, no, you’re right,” I said as I wiped my face hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re not an easy fuck. Please don’t think that’s what this was. That’s not what interested me at all with you. I truly enjoyed getting to know you on the plane and I wanted to spend more time with you last night because I could tell your soul needed company,” he said as he wiped a tear from my cheek. Great, he could tell I was crying. “The sex was just an added bonus, but if you want me to leave, I will,” he said quietly.

“No, you can stay,” I said, burying my wet face into his chest. 

He whispered quietly, “I would like to keep seeing you while you’re here, but if you don’t want that, I understand.” I snuggled closer to him and felt him pull me into a tighter hug. He was right. There was no way this was going to be permanent. Soon I’d be back to my simple life in my small town in Oklahoma. I’d be back to my lonely life with small town Kenneth. I’d be back to my life with no dreams of anything that would ever allow me to escape like I had this weekend. 

“Good night, Josh,” I said with an ache in my voice and an even bigger ache in my chest.

“Good night, Strawberry,” he said with a tone that sounded oddly like mine. Before we drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms, I silently prayed that morning wouldn’t come so I could spend more time here in this moment. 

“OH MY GOD!” Riley yelled as she stood in the doorway to my bedroom. I jolted up from my sleep to find Riley staring at Josh and me in my bed. Her eyes quickly moved to something on the floor and she yelled, “OH MY FUCKING GOD!” In a moment of panic, I looked to see what she was staring at… The condom wrapper on the floor.

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Aricka and Simon: the grief conversation

(WARNING: heavy mentions of grief, loss; crying, hurt/comfort/fluff)

( @heehawkins I found this on Google but wanted to give you the credit! Thank you-!)

——-

“Go talk to him.” Aricka blinks twice at Jesus’ words. “You know just how he feels right now. I do as well- but right now he needs someone else. Someone who isn’t Me. I know the right words will come to you- you have such a talent with them.”

“Only because You gave me the ability to,” she says, eliciting a warm smile from her Rabbi. “I will, but You will make sure I say it right-?”

“I’ll always be with you,” he says. The words comfort her; and she snags a hug before she goes about her task. Jesus willingly gave her one, one of his arms around her back, the other cradling her head against his shoulder. It was warm, safe. Everything she’d hoped a hug from Him would be.

Aricka watches Simon as they get off the boat. Simon Z helped her; wrapping an arm under hers and his other under her legs and swiftly lifting her up and over the side onto dry land. She smiled at him gratefully, and he ruffled her hair playfully as he moves to see to the rest of the supplies.

She made her way to the other Simon- the one who would one day earn the name of Peter- and clears her throat. “Hey, Simon,” she said a bit awkwardly. “I’m- I’m just gonna get this out of the way- I’m so sorry for your loss. I know- it’s an empty platitude- I hated hearing that phrase with my own loss- but-,”

“Your own loss?” She froze at the statement. Then she sighs slowly. Simon stares at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She walks a little closer to him, and when he doesn’t step back she starts her story.

“What I’m about to tell you-? Only Jesus knows. Or- knew, since I’m telling you now.” He nods, and motions to a nearby place they could sit. “When I was- 12-?- it’s been so long I can’t remember how old I was- my great grandmother died. She was really sick, and she got better for a while- but she died eventually. It was my first experience with death.” She sighs, emotion beginning to weigh her down. “I had just professed Jesus as my Savior and got baptized. So I leaned really hard on Him.” She rubs her hands together, a nervous habit she had developed. “Then, when I was 16, my great grandma on my dad’s side died. Suddenly. I didn’t have time to prepare. So I was a bit numb to it- I didn’t want to believe she was gone.” The next story had a single tear drip down her cheek. “Then when I was seventeen, my grandpa- my best friend- got sick too. He got better for a while, but like my great grandmother he died almost right after he got better.” She wipes her face off. “And then- two years ago, my mom’s grandma died. She had a sickness that made it difficult to remember things- and she eventually died not long after being admitted to a house that would care for her.” She hugs herself, now a bit afraid to look at Simon, but when she did- she didn’t see judgment. She saw- compassion. “You wanna know something?”

“If you want to share,” he said. She smiles.

“When my grandpa died-? I got angry. Real angry. With God. I yelled at him during my prayers. I cried and screamed and railed against Him and blames Him for taking my grandpa away.” She laughs, a wet sounding thing. “And then I got embarrassed for yelling at the One Person Who could take my anger. Who could bear my yelling and screaming and crying. So I tried to hide from Him.” This time they both laughed. “Didn’t turn out well, if you can imagine.”

“Oh, I think I know a story about this sort of thing,” he says.

“Thank GOODNESS He didn’t send a big fish to swallow me,” she replies. The silence settles over them both.

“So- why are you telling me all this-?” Simon asks. Aricka grows serious again, and Simon can see the emotion in her usually laughing blue eyes.

“Because I know what you’re going through right now. I know how you’re feeling. Jesus had His turn, now it’s mine.” She pauses. “I was told when I was little

I couldn’t cry for my grandma. I had to be strong for my mother and two little brothers.”

She meets his gaze straight on, and sees the instant he connects the dots. “It was wrong- I didn’t deserve to be told that. I deserved to grieve. To cry. To feel whatever it is I had to feel. As long as it didn’t hurt me or anyone else.”

She reached out, puts her hand next to Simon’s. “It’s okay if you feel sad. Or angry. Or hurt or confused or even scared, cause I was a bit scared when my loved ones died. The most important thing is, you’re not alone. You never were alone, and you never will be alone in your sadness. We’ve got the Ultimate Comforter on our side. He won’t let us drown in the ocean of grief. I had to learn it the hard way- you don’t.”

She slides a bit closer to the disciple she’d always felt closest to. “It’s okay to cry.” Another tear slides down her own cheek, and Simon carefully wipes it off. “See? I’m crying right now- it’s okay.”

Simon looks at her for a moment, and she can see the slick shine of tears gathering in the corners of his dark, piercing brown eyes. His jaw and hands clench, then unclench, his knee shakes restlessly. “Simon…” she whispered. “Jesus saw you cry. He thinks our tears are precious. It’s okay. Let it go.”

And just like that, a blockage- a dam- burst and she found herself with an armful of tearful Simon. Her arms instantly wrap around him, unable to truly believe this was happening and she was allowed to be in this moment.

They sit in silence, aside from Peter feeling his emotions, when something made her look up- and she sees Jesus standing there, with an assuring expression on His face. She sighs, relaxes, then continues talking.

“You know, I always thought that you and I were really similar,” she says. “When I’d read about you- I felt so close to you- like I knew you.” She pauses. “You had the “messy” human emotions it felt like the others didn’t have sometimes, and it made me feel better for having my own anger issues. Knowing that you had them too. It helped. And I guess that’s why I’ve been avoiding you-? Cause you’re Simon. And I feel like if I talk to you I’m gonna say dumb things and mess up our potential friendship. And that would make me feel really sad cause you’re so- you. And I like you. As a friend-slash-older brother figure.”

The arms around her tighten slightly, and she reciprocates, matching strength for strength. “I know how it feels to feel like you’re the only one who feels this unbearable weight of sadness- but it’s not true. You’re not alone. We’ve all got you; we want to be there for you.”

Simon sighs, a heavy sounding thing, and released her; and she gave him a moment to collect himself. “Thank you.” His voice was hoarse, and it wasn’t any wonder.

“You’re welcome,”she says. “I meant it. All of it. I look up to you- kinda like a hero. Not in an idol/worship way but a “wow, he’s so cool I want to be just like him someday,” kind of way.”

That earned her a famous Simon smile, and he drew her closer, so she was leaning against him. “I always wanted a little sister,” he said. “I guess you could fit the description.” Her eyes widen,

“Really-?” He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but she could see the sparkle in his eyes,

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She grins, and can’t help but throw her arms back around him, and he actually laughs, enveloping her in another warm hug.

“It was pretty cool seeing you walk on water-reading it is one thing- but seeing it-?”

“Yeah?” He was used to her not being from “his time,”’as she’d explained it.

“Yeah. I wish I was as brave as you.”

“I think you already are, kid,” he said, and together, they made their way back to Jesus and the other disciples.

———

@yeehawselfshipping

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Where I Belong Series

Summary: Let’s get small glimpses of Eddie, Salem and Fox’s daily lives. No order required, read it as you wish. (Please read A/N for a few clarifications)

Pairings: Eddie Kingston x Fox (reader), Salem (daughter)

A/N: After the last couple of weeks events, I’m not sure when I’ll be back on writing again. I don’t feel inspired to it and unfortunately the mere thought of it brings me sadness. I found a few random hc that are already written and saved in my drafts that I may post in the future . But for the time being, I found this collection of drabbles I had saved in my google docs that magically turned into a series and I thought I should post them so maybe you guys for once will have what to read and secondly can perhaps enjoy it. Salem’s age will follow no order, so she can be a teenager in one chapter and a baby/toddler/kid on others. As stated previously, there’s no order to follow up since the events are not connected to each other. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this 😘

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen, @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @blaquekittycat, @moxkindagirl

Salem heard her name being called for the sixth time in a row in less than 2 minutes.

“What?” She asked again, and when only silence answered her back, she huffed “You gotta be fucking kidding me”.

Her purposefully loud footsteps made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen as she asked “What, dad?” Her green eyes spotted her father near the fridge drinking orange juice straight from the bottle.

“Girl, don’t you yell at me!”

“Don’t? You were yelling!!”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as a small huff of disbelief escaped his lips “Is that TONE I’m hearing?”

“Sorry. No, ok. Sorry. What do you want?”

“Can you get your mom for me?”

“What? She’s upstairs, where I just was!” Salem’s voice was filled with annoyance

“And?” Eddie shrugged

“Fine” Salem slid her phone into her jeans back pocket “MOM”

“Hey! Don’t you yell in my house, girl”

“Oh my god” She groaned

“If I wanted to yell I would’ve done it myself, wouldn’t I?” Eddie said quite nonchalantly

“What’s going on here?” Your voice showed how exasperated you were with their yelling as you entered the kitchen “I can hear your screams from upstairs!”

“Blame it on your husband” Salem murmured

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her and threatened “Hey, watch it!”

“Please tell me you’re not drinking that straight from the bottle” You sighed once you spotted the orange juice bottle in your husband’s hand

“What? Fox, ain’t nothing wrong with sharing some spit. We’re all clean and above all: we’re family!”

“Eddie, no” You sighed

“Eww, gross” Salem shrieked “I don’t wanna share spit with you! God knows what the hell you two do together”

You couldn’t hold back a chuckle as Eddie reprimanded her “Girl, that fucking smart mouth is gonna earn you a nice ass whopping! Keep testing me”

“I’m fourteen! Don’t you think I’m a little too old for you to threaten me with a few slaps?”

“I don’t care how old you are, you’re still my kid. If I need to keep that temper of yours in check then I fucking will! Your grandma used to tell me ‘better to get your ass whooped at home than on the streets by some thug’. I’m just following her philosophy” Eddie shrugged as he placed the bottle on his lips to take a few more sips of the orange liquid.

“Yeah? And look how you turned out” Salem teased with a chuckle

“Ok, that’s enough” You intervened while pulling the bottle away from Eddie’s lips “Stop that! Please, grab a cup” You huffed before looking at your daughter “As for you, young lady, that’s enough comebacks for today”

“Sorry, mom”

“Really? That easy? That’s all it takes for you? Why?!” Eddie groaned

“Because I act like her mother, not like her older sibling, my love” You answered with a fake sweet smile before you looked at Salem “Lemmy, did you finish changing your sheets?”

“No, because Mr. Kingston here kept yelling for me to come downstairs” She raised an eyebrow at her father’s way

“Alright, please go finish it then. And once you’re done put it in the laundry so I can wash it later”

“No problem” She nodded before pulling her phone out of her back pocket the minute it rang with a text notification.

“You’re on that phone way too much for my liking, kid! I’m gonna take that shit away from you” Eddie barked as she passed by him

“Whatever” Salem quickly responded as she ran back to her room.

“Why do you tease her so much?” You asked once only the two of you were left in the kitchen

“Because annoying her is fun” Eddie smirked

“Oh my god, you’re the worst” You chuckled while putting the juice bottle back in the fridge “And if I catch you drinking straight from the bottle again, you’re the one who’s getting your ass whooped, Kingston”

“Oh, is that a promise, foxy?” Eddie grinned before opening up the fridge to grab the bottle of juice once again.