#it's not rebecca black but it should be

[mumblelard]

the falling man and the flying monkey or happy friday imaginary constructs

i told the people around me that i thought my brain was damaged because i kept finding myself in places without knowing how i got there. they looked at each other and then back at me, stonefaced. that's when i realized i was in a dream and immediately woke up to what has been a really wonderful day

[ladyimaginarium]

that one scene in black lagoon where rock's confronting revy & he's goading her to keep chasing her tail & keep repeating the cycle & what makes her my favorite character if not one of my favorite female anime characters of all time & not just for her skill in guns or her swearing but she she can be shot, stabbed, abused by her father & the police, anything and she takes it all like a warrior, but treat her like a genuine person & she freaks the fuck out bc that scares her more than any knife or bullet or explosive ever could bc she doesn't know what to do or how to react to any of that & that fucking terrifies her & for the first time in her life she could feel hope when rock is there with her & that both infuriates her & terrifies her bc as lana del rey once said "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have" bc if she could feel hope, if she could step into the light, then she'd have to face everything in her life, the people she's killed, the pain she's endured & her own suffering & that is the most frightening thing she can ever imagine, hell, she can go toe to toe w/ the bloodhound of fuckin florencia aka the fuckin terminator but treat her like a genuine human being with feelings & she fucking loses it bc revy looking like she's about to burst into tears just. SCREAMS "THAT'S ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO" ..... yeah.

[deanncastiel]

in other news ROY AND JAMIE ON THEIR LITTLE DATE IN AMSTERDAM EXCUSE ME

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Firsts

pairings - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary - Rafe was always there for your firsts.

warnings - drinking, drugs, language, fem receiving oral. (18+)

An/ I have other fics I should be finishing but this came to me this morning and I needed to write it!

Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron was your first everything.

First friend, first girl boy hug, first kiss, first touch, first time, you hadn’t expected him to be your first heartbreak though.

Having been friends with him the moment your eyes landed on the quiet boy who sat on the browning grass, staring out at the kids playing. You can still remember the slight scowl on his chubby little face, you took it upon yourself to be friends with him.

Surprisingly he wanted to be your friend just as much as you wanted to be his, from that moment on the two of you were inseparable. It helped that you moved in next door to him, your parents becoming fast friends.

Throwback to the ripe age of 18, the night he broke your heart. You weren’t together, you were just best friends. Best friends that shared each other's firsts and seconds and so on. Neither of you put a label on the love you shared.

You wished you had though, the moment your eyes landed on his hands laced through Rebecca Jones’s tiny delicate hand, you knew that was the end.

He didn’t greet you that night, didn’t pull you into his famous bone crushing hug or whisper about how annoying everyone was. Instead he ignored you, Rebecca and his friends followed behind him as though he was royalty.

He wore a frightening smirk on his face the whole night, shoved at JJ Maybank who was hired as wait staff along with a fair few other pogues. Made a scene and called them names, at one point his father even had to get involved.

You felt sick to your stomach at the sight of the man in front of you, no longer the person you wanted to share your firsts with.

Fast forward to 21, you haven't spoken to him in three years. You couldn’t deny you missed him deeply, his picture still hung from the thin string lining your bedroom wall. But it was only one photo compared to the 300 you had tucked under your bed along with other memories.

It was your birthday, your eyes skimmed the people in the garden setting up for your party. Your eyes shooting to the silk black dress that hung in the doorway of your ensuite, darting your eyes back over the lawn and up at the tall house beside yours.

Your eyes search for a glimpse of Rafe but no life was found in the windows or the balcony. Letting out a soft sigh, you pushed yourself to stand. You didn’t have much time to get ready, your friends would be here soon and would want to start drinking the moment they stepped into your room.

45 minutes later you found yourself on the back porch, nursing a pornstar martini that your friend Elle had made. People had started to arrive and the sun had begun to set, your eyes searching through the sea of people for Rafe. You knew he wouldn’t show, even though at the age of 12 he promised to throw you the biggest 21st, just like the people on tv.

“Hey!”

You jumped slightly in your seat at the brazen voice, eyes landing on your friends who stared at you with worry. “What?” You questioned, grabbing a napkin you dabbed at the liquid that ran down your chest.

“I said, Barry is waiting for you by the side gate”.

All you do is nod and stand, Elle passes you the envelope of cash and keeps her eyes on the people around her. Tucking the folded up envelope in your bra, you make your way to the side of the house.

The music is loud and everyone is having a good time, your parents have gone out for the weekend to give you some space. Your friends had decided they wanted to buy something stronger than weed but were too scared of Barry to organize it themselves, but you apparently had no fear these days.

“Princess”

You knew you made a mistake instantly, Barry lent against the fence in a wife beater and ratty shorts. Smoke surrounded his face, stepping out of the dark he stopped in front of you.

You stood at the same height as him, if you had opted for heels you would have towered over him. “That dress looks good on you”.

“Here’s your money”

He cocked his head and kissed his teeth, eyes roaming your body unashamedly. You take a step back but he’s quick to step forward, gripping your wrist that held the envelope. “How about I give you something that’ll blow your mind but you pay a different way”

You shook your head instantly, you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you. “No I don’t think so… take the cash”

A throaty laugh escapes his lips and he tugs you towards him, your palm smacks his chest to keep you from falling into him further. You can smell the cigarette on his breath, scrunching your nose up when his lips ghost your cheek. “How about you get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use”.

You tug on your wrist but his grip tightens, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips. “I have the cash, please just take the cash”.

His palm meets your shoulder, he uses all his strength to push your body to the floor and your knees hit the gravel. “Barry” you grit, your clenched fist meets his stomach and he doubles over in pain. “You bitch!”.

He coughs loudly and the little baggie falls to the floor, you're quick to grab it and jump up, throwing the envelope to his feet you step back but meet a hard wall. “Do we have a problem?”

All words that sat on the tip of your tongue vanished at the sight of Rafe, his eyes are hard and pointed at Barry. “I have the cash to pay him” your voice is just above a whisper, the skin of your bicep tingles at the feeling of Rafe’s fingers gripping tightly. “I don’t want the cash.. I want her on her knees” Barry growls, he stands up straight and steps towards you again. Pressing your back firmly against Rafe’s chest, he’s quick to pull you behind him. “She’s with me Barry”

“Oh shit man… I didn’t know she was yours!”

“She’s mine”

The goosebumps are back and butterflies swarm your belly, you zone out for what feels like a second but when you come back down to reality, Rafe is ushering you away from the scene, eyes cocking to see Barry hopping on his bike and the envelope you had for him inside his back pocket.

“I didn’t need your help”

You're not sure why you even said that, of course you needed help. There was no way you were leaving with anything unless you sucked Barry off. Rafe ignores you, pushing you forward by your lower back until you're back with your friends. Your fingers tighten around the baggie, hiding it from Rafe’s eyes.

You didn’t care that he knew you were buying drugs, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him snort lines at every party. It just felt strange, your first time doing something harder then weed wasn’t with him.

All your friends' eyes are on the two of you, mouths opened in shock. Before anyone can say anything he’s walking away, slipping into the crowd of people and disappearing. “What just happened?”

“Let’s get high”

The four of you lock yourself in the bathroom, opening the small baggie you pour the contents into your palm. “Did he say what it was?”

You shook your head, placing a small pill on the tip of your tongue. Each of their eyes watch as you swallow, holding out your palm for them to grab.

“I’m scared… I feel like we shouldn’t trust what he gives us”

“It’s fine, if it had been anything bad he would have told Rafe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do Elle.. take the damn pill”

Each of them grab a pill and swallow, you put the rest back into the bag and hide it under the toilet sink inside your tampon box.

You're out the door before any of them can stop you, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bench and heading back outside. Your feet take you further into the party, looking for Rafe. You hadn’t expected him to show up, your parents made you invite him since it would have been rude to throw a party next door without inviting your oldest friend.

You spot Rafe instantly, sipping on a beer and leaning against a pole. Topper and Kelce stand beside him as the two of them chat, Rafe’s eyes meet you for a brief moment before turning away from you.

Anger bubbles in your chest, storming back through the party. The bottle of champagne now half empty by the time you make it to your bathroom, the anger fuels the stupidity in your brain.

Grabbing the pills from the tampon box you take another, wanting the effects of the drug to hit you faster. But by the time you’ve taken the last step of the patio you're swaying, throwing your arms out to brace yourself. “Shit” you laugh, the empty bottle of champagne hitting the grass with a thud.

“Come dance!” Elle shouted, her tiny arms waving above her head. With wobbly legs you make your way to your friends, dancing wildly with them until a hot body comes up behind you and circles their arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to their crotch. “Hey”

You let the person dance against you, hands wandering your thighs and your stomach. The fingers of the stranger behind you brushes the underneath of your breasts before groping a handful, your mouth parts just a tiny bit and your ass presses firmer against him.

“What the fuck?”

Spinning on the spot at the loss of warmth behind you, the guy who had been dancing with you was on the floor. Rafe towered over you once again, his fingers grip your bicep and he’s pulling you away from the party. You notice no one watches the two of you, music drowning out any chatter around them.

“Rafe! What the hell is your problem!” You growl, wriggling in his grip only causing further pain to your arm. You give up rather quickly and let him drag you back into the house, pushing you through the door of the downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You press up against the bathroom sink and cross your arms, your eyes drift up and down his body. You can hear the harsh breaths Rafe was letting out, his forehead creased in anger. “I haven’t spoken to you in 3 years… you can’t just show up and manhandle me”.

His eyes meet yours finally and he takes a step closer, not close enough for you to touch him though. His cologne invades your nostrils and your cheeks heat from the memories of his hands on your body. “If you're not going to talk I’m leaving… it’s my birthday”.

His eyes finally drop from your eyes and he takes in your body, starting at your sneakers, drinking in the sight of your slender long legs, stopping for a tad longer on your breasts and then back up to your eyes.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ear, Goosebumps litter your skin and you have to brace yourself against the vanity table, legs wobbling from his gaze. “Happy birthday”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders relax at the sound of his voice. A voice you hadn’t heard up close in so long, a voice you dreamt about every night. “Thanks”.

The both of you are silent again, the sound of the party behind the door grows louder as the drugs start to lose their effect. “You look nice”

“Thanks”

He takes a step closer again, the toes of his shoes meet yours. The two of you look down briefly and then back at each other, you can smell the scotch on his breath, it's intoxicating.

“Rafe” your fingers touch his bicep softly, electricity flows through the tips of your fingers all the way to your heart. “I’ve missed you” he whispers seconds before his lips are on yours, all the memories you share together hit you like a tidal wave. Your knees buckle but he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

“Missed you so much” he grunts, lips peppering kisses against yours. Down your jaw until they meet the base of your throat and he sucks hard, a soft whine escapes your parted lips. “Fuck”.

He grips your hips and drops you on the vanity table, pushing himself between your parted thighs, the heels of your shoes press firmly against his backside, pulling him closer to you. “You taste so fucking good”.

“Fuck Rafe… just like that” you whine, his hips roll against yours. His fingers grope and massage the skin of your thigh, pushing up the length of your dress to expose your nude thong. Your arousal soaks the front of your panties, your knees try to lock together in embarrassment but his thick frame holds them out. “I still make you as wet as I did 3 years ago” he groans, with one swift movement he’s ripped them at the crotch. Your pretty wet pussy exposed to his hungry eyes, his large hands tug you closer to the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The sight has you clenching around nothing, arousal weeping from your needy hole. He places your feet on his shoulders and situates himself between your thighs. “Be a good girl for me y/n… let me eat your pussy for your birthday”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod frantically, the tip of his nose brushes your delicate clit. Your hips jut up to his face, a wicked smile paints itself on his lips. His tongue drops out slowly, the sight of the wet muscle has you whining. “Happy birthday sweetheart”

His hot tongue glides between your folds, your head falling back against the mirror in pure delight. “Oh fuck” you cried, pressing the balls of your feet into his shoulders. His hands grip the outside of your thighs, pulling your legs further apart until he can see your cunt in all its glory, glistening from your arousal. He could see your inner muscles clenching at the sight of him watching you. “Please Rafe” you begged, his lips dropped back to your pussy. Sucking and licking your overly sensitive nub, two of his fingers slip between your opening. Your back arching as he tapped at your g spot, you're sure you can see stars as he works himself on your pussy. “Sweet Jesus… Rafe! Yes yes yes”

The grunt of his approval vibrates against your clit, grinding your hips into his face. Your arousal coats his lower half, nose red from pressing himself so deep into your cunt. “I’m close! Rafe… right there! Holy shittt” your screams can be heard outside the bathroom door, the grip on your thighs are tight as he holds you close to him. You ride out your high, a thin layer sweat coats your chest and forehead. The back of your head hurts from the brutal force of you pushing against the mirror to steady yourself, you watch in silence as Rafe pulls away from you. Just as you open your mouth there are loud bangs on the bathroom door.

“Rafe! Man! Rafe quick Rebecca is outside looking for you!”

He’s out the door in seconds, leaving you alone and feeling dirty. Pressing your thighs closed you let out a silent sob, tears stream your face as you clean yourself up and throw away the ripped panties.

You take a few moments to calm down and slap some sense into yourself, you should have known Rafe was still seeing her. You should have told him to leave the moment he turned up, he was the Rafe you knew.

You exit the bathroom quietly and rush back downstairs in search of a drink, grabbing ahold of the tequila bottle.

As you step onto the patio, your friends quickly greet you. Your eyes stay on Rafe though, ignoring the chatter behind you, your eyes fall to the hand of Rebecca’s, it lay upon his chest in a gesture of adoration. A beautiful diamond placed upon her ring finger, the butterflies in your belly all but die. The beating of your heart is the only thing you hear, he notices where your eyes have landed and he is quick to place his much bigger hand over hers, hiding the beautiful ring from your vision.

He’s engaged.

Rafe Cameron got engaged.

Rafe Cameron had his first engagement and it wasn’t with you…

“Come on let’s go dance” Elle says, noticing the way both you and Rafe stare at each other. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment when Rebecca reaches up to kiss his cheek, bringing the bottle of tequila to your lips. The alcohol burns your throat in the most satisfying way.

Your eyes open to catch the worry that finds its way onto his features as he watches you throw back way too much alcohol for your small body.

“Let’s get fuck up” you exclaim, walking away from your friends and towards the bar your parents had hired for the night.

“4 shots please… actually nah, just give me that bottle of whiskey”.

🏷️ Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @maybankslover @h34rtsformilli @hallecarey1 @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @gabys-gabs @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @bbycowboi @jscameron @rafegirly @drudyslut @drewstarkeyslut @loverofdrewstarkey @ijustwanttoreadlols @spookyscaryspoon @ailee-celeste @ashpeace888 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @tayygriffith @pankowperfection @oceandriveab @slut4ani @spideysimpossiblegirl @kamninaries @rubixgsworld @pickingviolets @wearemadeofstardust0 @one-sweet-gubler (if I have forgotten you please let me know)

[brokehorrorfan]

Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror will be published on October 3 via Random House. It's curated by filmmaker Jordan Peele, who also provides an introduction and serves as editor with John Joseph Adams.

It features short stories by Erin E. Adams, Violet Allen, Lesley Nneka Arimah, Maurice Broaddus, Chesya Burke, P. Djèlí Clark, Ezra Claytan Daniels, Tananarive Due, Nalo Hopkinson, N.K. Jemisin, Justin C. Key, L.D. Lewis, Nnedi Okorafor, Tochi Onyebuchi, Rebecca Roanhorse, Nicole D. Sconiers, Rion Amilcar Scott, Terence Taylor, and Cadwell Turnbull.

The 400-page book will be available in hardcover, e-book, and audio book. The synopsis is below.

The visionary writer and director of Get Out, Us, and Nope, and founder of Monkeypaw Productions, curates this groundbreaking anthology of all-new stories of Black horror, exploring not only the terrors of the supernatural but the chilling reality of injustice that haunts our nation. A cop begins seeing huge, blinking eyes where the headlights of cars should be that tell him who to pull over. Two freedom riders take a bus ride that leaves them stranded on a lonely road in Alabama where several unsettling somethings await them. A young girl dives into the depths of the Earth in search of the demon that killed her parents. These are just a few of the worlds of Out There Screaming, Jordan Peele’s anthology of all-new horror stories by Black writers. Featuring an introduction by Peele and an all-star roster of beloved writers and new voices, Out There Screaming is a master class in horror, and—like his spine-chilling films—its stories prey on everything we think we know about our world... and redefine what it means to be afraid.

Pre-order Out There Screaming.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* The Wishing Hole (Yandere x GN!Reader)

Warning!! This is not a romance, read at your own risk CW: LONG, Dead Dove, abuse, murder, trauma, manipulation, masturbation, mutilation, unhealthy relationships, obsession

"Have you heard about the hole?"

Part I

"It's right over here!" Miranda theater-whispered to her friends as she led them through the black woods. Their flashlights bobbed in the darkness, the only light visible to the trio of twelve year olds as they trekked through the thicket. (Reader) gripped onto their envelope tightly, fearful of leaving sweat marks on it.

They had been staying the night at Brian's house when Miranda brought up the hole. A local urban legend by that point, the story of a hole that granted wishes. Brian had chastised Miranda for believing a story so stupid, but still followed her and (Reader) when they snuck out to grant their wishes.

"How do you know where it is?" He nervously hissed.

"Abby's sister Rebecca has a friend who found it. Over here." Miranda spoke as though it should have been obvious why she knew where it was.

(Reader) could do nothing but hope. They hoped hard, over and over again, wrinkling the papers in their fist as the yellow light led them to their future. All they could do was beg the universe to grant their wish. For the hole to be real.

The trees thinned and opened, revealing a small clearing with a very deep hole dug out of the earth. It was a normal looking hole, but in the dark of a moonless night to a group of children, it was ominous.

Their muddy boots all stopped a good foot away from the edge. The ground didn't look stable.

After taking a shaky breath, Miranda threw her envelope into the hole, squeezing her eyes shut as she focused all her energy on the wish written inside the letter she tossed. Brian thought about arguing, calling out his friends for littering, but instead copied Miranda, throwing his wish in as well. (Reader) felt adrenaline shoot to their finger tips as the anxiety tried to rip through their veins and escape their skin. Their packet was thicker than either of their friends', and fell harder as they chucked it in with all their strength.

The only future (Reader) wanted was nearly impossible. It would take divine intervention to get that happiness. "What did you wish for?" Miranda asked Brian behind (Reader).

"I want to know what I want to do."

"That's it?"

"What'd you wish for?"

"A hot boyfriend, who's gonna love me, and marry me."

"Well, when you're trapped in a marriage with three kids, I'll be doing what I love every day."

Miranda groaned loudly, refusing to get into another argument with her best friend. She instead looked at (Reader) who was still focusing on the hole. "What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

Their eyes seemed to be seeing something the other two couldn't see. Large pupils fixated on nothing, still filled with enough anxiety to cripple an adult.

"Someone who loves me.."

"Ugh, not you too.." Brian's voice melted into the background, almost unintelligible in the dense air. The contents of the wish filled (Reader's) head to the point that nothing else could be heard.

• 15 years later •

Another failed date.

Dark rings permanently decorated the underneath of (Reader's) tired eyes. The perpetually single adult slid down against the wall, too exhausted to continue standing. There was nothing particularly wrong with the guy, but he just wasn't "the one" for (Reader). He was boring and awkward, rambling about his job and future plans, bragging about his hypothetical future fortune. Nothing he did was bad enough for (Reader) to guiltlessly label him a douche, but nothing about him was their type.

They pulled out their phone, looking at the dark haired man on their wallpaper for a second too long before opening up their messages with their date. (Reader) typed up a quick message to thank Rich for the date, but that they didn't see it going any further.

The phone was tossed to the side as (Reader) struggled to stand, grabbing a beer from their fridge as the phone began chiming from the linoleum. Texts rapidly coming in were ignored by (Reader) as they cracked open their first drink for the night.

His unread messages echoed through (Reader's) shoebox apartment.

The weary adult wondered how their therapist would react next week at their appointment. It wasn't realistic for an adult to fixate on a wish they had made as a child, but just like all those years ago, (Reader) knew deep in their bones that there was no happiness for them if they couldn't have that wish come true. Rich was attractive, in an average sort of way, with straight brown hair cut a little too short for the shape of his brow. He had nice lips, (Reader) thought, but couldn't imagine kissing them.

The beer tasted like lightly bitter water. Not a promising sign; it tasted like they would need something stronger. On the way to the living room (Reader) noticed their bedroom door had some dirt on the white paint, like someone had pushed it open with filthy hands.

(Reader) felt an anxious jolt to their system. A familiar pain they hadn't felt in a long time. They pushed open the door, timidly entering their own room like a stranger nervous to be caught. But the room was empty.

"So, how'd your date with Rich go?" Adam asked hopefully. The same trio of friends since primary school sat in their local diner. It was a monthly ritual, gathering for brunch to force themselves to keep in touch. They tried to hold the meeting every week, but with work scheduling it was impossible. Adam sat with his husband, Jon, across from Brian and (Reader). Everyone had changed so much as they got older, but that was to be expected. No one can stay a child forever.

(Reader) sighed before sipping on their milkshake. Adam knew exactly what that meant, and groaned, just as dramatically as when he was a child. His hair may be shorter, but some things stayed consistent.

"What was wrong with this guy?"

"Nothing!" (Reader) replied defensively. "He just... wasn't my type."

Brian pushed up his glasses. "Maybe you should lower your standards."

"Brian!"

"-I mean, it's good to have standards, obviously, but people are real people, not characters in a book. No one is going to match your description of a perfect partner, because people aren't perfect, ya know?"

(Reader) stole a glance at their phone, admiring the black haired man behind the time. "You can say that, because your wish already came true. Both of yours."

Both Brian and Adam looked ashamed and a little uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact and fixating on their meals. Jon almost went cross-eyed trying to understand what (Reader) was implying.

(Reader) stood, tossing a couple bills onto the table. "I have to go, I'll talk to you guys later."

"Okay, have a good day! Text me when you get home." Adam said warmly, hugging his dear friend tightly while trying to shape his face into a happier expression.

"I will. Bye."

Brian gave up a small side hug, grimacing.

Jon waited until (Reader) was out of sight before asking "Were they talking about that wish you guys made as kids?"

The bespectacled young man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"I know what Adam wished for, but what did you and (Reader) wish for?" When he mentioned Adam's wish, Adam rolled his eyes playfully and they nudged each other lightly. Their whole relationship was practically diabetic for Brian, who still after all these years didn't get the appeal in romance.

Brian adjusted his glasses again, clearing his throat. "I wanted to know what to do with my life." And he had found that calling. The summer before high school he discovered a YouTube channel centered around ornithology and sent him on a strange spiral of bird mania. His friends and family thought it was a temporary fixation that he would lose interest in after a year or so, but his newfound fascination guided him all the way through college, landing him in an animal husbandry profession taking care of cranes at (what Brian considered to be) a humane zoo. "(Reader) wished for someone to love them."

"Well, I believe there's someone for everyone. It takes some people longer to find 'the one' than it does for others, and (Reader) seems like a great person, so I'm sure they'll meet someone that fits their childhood ideal."

Although Jon meant well with his words he could see the discomfort on his husband's and Brian's faces, their eyes either focused on their drink or plate.

They never read (Reader's) wish.

But over the years the two friends had begun to piece together a picture of the kind of man (Reader) wanted.

It was a complete breach of trust, looking into a friend's past, going full internet stalker mode to investigate into the secrets (Reader) wouldn't divulge. And what they found...

Was a lot.

They didn't know how to open the conversation with their third musketeer, since the facts and speculations were all obtained without (Reader's) knowledge or permission, but if Brian and Adam were correct in their understanding of what (Reader's) wish was, they genuinely wanted to help (Reader).

They also knew where (Reader) was going. But even that was impossible to confess.

Because at that moment, (Reader) was in their car for their monthly four hour visit with the greatest man (Reader) had ever known. It was unfortunate scheduling, but (Reader) couldn't compromise the day for either party. Keeping in contact with their friends was important for their mental health (according to their therapist) but this meeting was more important to (Reader) than practically anything else in their life.

Metal fencing and high beige walls appeared through the trees like a fairy tale castle. Instead of an evil dragon guarding the entrance, however, there were armed guards. Still every bit of evil in (Reader's) eyes.

"Welcome back, Mx. (Reader)." The usual security officer greeted grimly. Before he could ask for identification, (Reader) already had it out. Although they had met many times throughout the past decade, it was still a formality required by law. The two filled out the necessary paperwork while only offering tight smiles. He opened the gate for (Reader) to drive in and park in the visitor's lot. (Reader) always felt the cameras on them whenever they entered this "castle".

Officers emptied (Reader's) pockets and scanned their body for metal. There would be no physical connection at all, but they still needed to take precautions.

(Reader) was led through the lifeless grey halls towards visitation. Each step made their heart race and fostered the smile on their lips. Approaching the room with squeaky broken stools and bulletproof glass relaxed their faux grin for a genuine tranquility. There were no other visitors at the time.

The stool creaked under (Reader) as they gently eased into the old thing, staring at the window. Shortly after they sat down, the man from their phone's wallpaper, now with more silver hair than black, shuffled in on the other side, smiling softly as he sat across from (Reader). They both grabbed the phones.

"Hi Dad."

His dark eyes with pupils so large that without direct light made them look black had deeply etched wrinkles decorating them that folded deeper as he smiled. When Donavon McElroy was arrested, the news outlets focused on his eyes like some kind of Kubrick film, fixating on how you could just see the evil in some people. It felt as though the only person in the entire country who could see how loving Donavon's eyes were was (Reader).

"Hey kiddo. I've missed you."

"I missed you too." There were only four hours of visitation allowed per month. "Have you been getting my letters?"

Greasy ringlets of hair tumbled to the side as he cocked his head. "They're still the highlight of each week." Donavon didn't blink often. Even though the lights always hurt his eyes, no matter how dim they were, he seemed like a mannequin, refusing to blink and miss a second of his precious child's face. "How have you been since our last visit? I know you said in your letters that you're still going to therapy, which is good, very good.. how's that going for you?"

(Reader) felt their smile dip a little. "Well, it's going. I don't really like my therapist, but I know it's just because I don't like what she has to say. Even if I change doctors, they'll still say the same things."

Donavon nodded understandingly. It was like that at first for him as well, receiving psychiatric treatment while in prison. "I didn't like being told that my line of thinking was.. wrong. I knew that logically my thinking was, of course, obviously wrong, but it didn't feel wrong, so having a.. professional tell me that was upsetting."

"But it's important that you continue with it. And I'm very proud of you for continuing with it."

(Reader) laughed. It was a sharp scoff of a laugh, but not spiteful. It filled their chest with hot lava to hear someone praise them for doing what they've been doing since they were ten years old. Because it was difficult. Even if (Reader) continuously told themselves that this was the bare minimum. It was still difficult.

"She has me out in the dating world." (Reader) slumped a little, only slightly enough that no one but Donavon could tell the change in their posture. "Which is.. not fun."

"It can be fun. Does that carnival still come? There used to be a traveling carnival, a pop up fair, that would set up in a parking lot of a small store in our home town, really cheap. That could be a fun first date. Tiny ferris wheel and gravitron. Elephant ears." The two adults smiled widely thinking about it, but neither of them were picturing it as a date. His smile melted when he realized this. "I wish I could have taken you there."

(Reader) imagined a different life, one where they were in his care instead of their mother's, eating pastries the size of their head and getting sick on possibly dangerous attractions in a small parking lot. Their mother never took them, but they knew which pop up fair he was talking about, riding past it on the bus many times in their life. "That sounds like it would have been fun.."

".. but like I said, dating can be fun. As long as your being safe." (Reader's) dad's smile bounced back. "What have you done so far that hasn't been fun?"

"Well, I went out for dinner. Guy named Rich. He was, uh, decent. Talked a lot. Mostly about his job, and goals."

"Sounds career focused, that's good."

"Eh.." They shrugged, eyes drifting.

"What was wrong with him?"

(Reader) sighed. "Nothing. He was.. competent. Seemed like a regular guy. He just.. wasn't my type."

Guilt began to crawl through the folds of Donavon's brain like bugs infesting his conscious. He knew it was all his fault. Everything. But if he said that out loud, (Reader) would deny it, argue and fight it. "Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea."

"There's also plenty of trash."

Donavon pointed a finger at his kid warningly. "There's also sunken treasure. Don't give up hope."

"I don't need someone to be happy.."

"That's true.. but something tells me that when you weren't actively dating around, you weren't being content with the single life, and that's why your therapist is having you go out there. That.. maybe you were still waiting around for something that you shouldn't have, instead of living life to the fullest while alone."

The two became uncomfortably silent. This happened nearly every month. "I just want someone who loves me."

Donavon swore he could cry at that moment. "I'm sorry for-"

"Don't apologize." (Reader) cut him off. "Don't apologize for being a great dad."

"I wasn't. I wasn't a great dad. I'm-"

"-don't-"

"-a monster, (Reader). Kiddo, please, just listen to me. I'm sorry for the things I've done. The way I went about.. I wasn't in my right mind.. what I put you through was not okay. It was not, and will never be okay." He leaned forward, wishing to break through the glass dividing them and hug his kid. "I'm so sorry."

(Reader) softly responded "You're the only person who ever loved me."

"And you deserve better than that."

'No', (Reader) thought, 'there is no better than that.'

"Let's change the subject, please." (Reader) closed their eyes, forcing away the tears. "We never have enough time, and I don't want to spend the entire day focusing on sad shit."

Donavon took a shaky breath. "Okay, kiddo.." he mulled over for a second what to talk about before cracking a smile, one wide enough to show off his missing canine. "Remember Eddy?"

"Your old bunk mate?"

"Yep."

"What about him?"

"He got stabbed."

The sentence was so short and sudden that it shocked (Reader) into snorting, bringing back their genuine smile. "What? When? What happened?"

From the door an older guard smiled sadly, away from view. Donavon was liked by nearly everyone, both by the guards and the other prisoners. It was always a shame, getting to know someone who was supposed to be an evil bastard, and learning that they were just a great man who needed help. Plenty of the older guards understood that (Reader) would forever look at them with disgust and mildly veiled hatred. Because Donavon was (Reader's) hero, and the guards were just wardens unjustly holding him captive.

Their conversation continued without pause, filling the empty room with sounds of parental love and warmth. The guard at the door loved being there whenever it was time for (Reader's) visit with their dad, because it really was an incredibly beautiful and emotional scene every time he was present, but he also hated being the one on duty whenever (Reader) came, because he had to be the villain to say "Time's up" when their four hours were over.

"Mx. (Reader). Donavon."

(Reader's) eyes drooped, darkening under the shadow of their eyelashes. "Already?"

"Unfortunately."

The guard had been there so long, he remembered when (Reader) was a child, and would cry and scream whenever it was time to leave, begging him to let their daddy out.

Donavon smiled comfortingly. "Thank you for visiting me, kiddo."

"Of course."

"Maybe in another decade they'll let me have physical contact visitation." Donavon chuckled, only half serious with his hopeful statement. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too. Don't forget to write."

"I never do."

They both stood up, hanging up their phones painfully. It was the worst time of the day. His chains shook around his wrists as he waved goodbye. He never hurt a single guard in his time incarcerated, but it was a formality, a requirement, due to the nature of his crime. It didn't seem to matter how good his behavior was. Even though the guards trusted him, according to the law Donovan was still to be treated as a monster.

After being guided back out of the room, through the halls, and out to the parking lot, (Reader) finally felt like they could breathe. The air that was stolen when the guard ended their visit with their dad was greedily sucked up outside the stifling building. They finally looked at their silent phone, seeing a dozen messages from Rich. Or, who's number (Reader) assumed was Rich, since they had deleted his contact as soon as they woke up that morning.

Most of the texts were pleas for a second date, or an explanation for what he did wrong. Some of them were insults.

(Reader) sighed, deleting the conversation and blocking his number before getting into their car, allowing tears to silently fall down their warm cheeks. All that they wished for was for someone to love them, and no one would ever love them like their dad did.

The drive back was just as miserable as it was every month.

And just like every month, the tears didn't stop until (Reader) pulled up to their apartment. It was a long day, where the good moments weren't long enough, and (Reader) was ready for another beer. It wasn't Sunday, but it was their Sunday, which meant that they couldn't stay up drinking all night.

But it felt as though they had just popped open their can when someone started pounding on their door, angrily and frantically. (Reader) cursed not being able to afford to live in an apartment that had a controlled door to the building, living in a cheap one that had the stairs on the outside of the building. Which meant that there were no security measures to prevent just anyone from coming straight to (Reader's) unit.

They set the alcohol to the side and made their way to the door. The banging only stopped when the person on the other side heard (Reader) unlocking the deadbolt. A slightly sweaty man with brown hair too short to be messy stood impatiently.

"Rich?"

The slightly younger man shrugged sharply, jutting his head to the side with an attitude as if to say 'No shit, who else?'

"Are you going to let me in?" He asked impatiently.

"Uh, no?" (Reader) furrowed their brow. "How'd you find where I live?" They were too confused to even be mad or scared.

"It wasn't difficult; literally everything is online." Rich responded as though (Reader) was a fucking idiot for even asking. The disrespect was shocking, a severe shift from how he acted during their date. He shifted abruptly as though he was going to charge (Reader), so they tightened their muscles, holding the door closer to their side, which earned an aggravated huff.

"What are you doing here, Rich?"

"Well, you owe me an explanation after you ghosted me after our date the other day." His tone made it sound so obvious.

(Reader) scoffed, almost amused. "No I fucking don't."

"I was the perfect gentleman on our date considering the circumstances, you and I had a good time, but then you ghosted me? And I just want to know why." The emphasis on the 'considering the circumstances' included a wave, motioning to (Reader's) body. (Reader) didn't know if he was insinuating that their body was a problem, or if it was their gender expression, or if he just had high fashion expectations that (Reader) didn't live up to, but the little hand movement finally ticked them off.

"Okay, you're done." (Reader) tried to close the door, but Rich was stronger than he looked, and effortlessly pushed them back into their apartment and entered. (Reader) didn't fall, only stumbled, wobbling to regain balance as Rich casually closed the door behind him, pacing his hands on his hips.

"So, what did I do wrong?"

"You mean before you broke into my home?"

"I did- don't be fucking dramatic, I did not break in. I just want to know, I just want to know what I did wrong."

(Reader) slowly backed up, mentally picturing the apartment behind them to figure out where their closest form of defense was. "Nothing. It just didn't work out-"

"BULL SHIT."

"-you weren't my type."

Rich stuck out his jaw, clicking his tongue. "That isn't a reason."

"Yes, it is-"

"That isn't a reason to be a fucking dick."

'How far behind me is my knife block?'

Before (Reader) could make a move their front door violently flew open again, slamming loudly into the wall. Both Rich and (Reader) whipped around at the jarring noise.

A man stood in the doorway.

His skin was so caked in dirt and muck that his yellowish skin was almost completely painted over. Long, black hair curled due to the oil, hanging down and sticking to his gaunt face. Between the shaggy locks black eyes glared unblinkingly.

"Who the fuck is that?!" Rich nearly hollered, retreating closer to (Reader) out of fear, unable to tear his eyes away from the modified weapon in the intruder's hand.

Warmth spread throughout (Reader's) entire body; the god of love releasing a cage of butterflies into their body.

"He's here to kill me."

Part 0

Eight year old (Reader) tugged on their oversized long sleeve shirt. It was rubbing against the bruises uncomfortably. Everything about their body felt uncomfortable lately.

Their mother was late again.

Mr. Haley sighed loudly for the umpteenth time, looking at his watch as though it was (Reader's) fault their mother hadn't picked them up yet. It was warm and humid, and the sleeves of (Reader's) shirt were sticking to their arms. Despite the heat, Mr. Haley wouldn't allow (Reader) to wait inside, instead standing at the entrance of the school under a tree. (Reader) was the last child at pickup, aside from the children outside on the field for after school sports.

"Is your mom working late again?"

(Reader) didn't answer, instead watching the man walking into the nearly empty parking lot who seemed to be staring at (Reader) and their teacher. They couldn't tell exactly from how far away he was, but he didn't get any closer, keeping to the entrance, partially hidden behind a sign.

"Do you have anyone else I can call? Grandparents?" His kind voice was strained, exhaustion melting his patience.

The man suddenly ducked away from view, and shortly after (Reader's) frazzled mother sped walked into the lot, storming closer to the building. (Reader) left to meet her half way in an attempt to calm her down, but their teacher followed.

"Good afternoon, Ms. (Name)-"

"(Reader), c'mon." As soon as (Reader's) mother was close enough she immediately spun on her heel to leave again, ignoring the teacher.

"Ms. (Name), this is the third time-"

"I know!" The woman snapped, stopping abruptly, causing (Reader) to bump into her side. "I'm sorry."

"-the third time this month."

"I said I know!" She whined, throwing up her hands. "I couldn't get out of work, it wasn't that long!"

"After school activities are almost over. It's been almost an hour-"

"Don't be a dick, okay, I'm twenty minutes late."

"School ended forty minutes ago."

She crossed her arms. "So not an hour."

"Almost an hour-"

"So not an hour."

Mr. Haley sighed in defeat. He tried again, however, he was interrupted by the woman grabbing (Reader) by the arm and dragging them out of the parking lot. Her nails dug into the scabs on (Reader's) arm.

She spat out curses towards the teacher as she dragged her kid down the road towards the bus stop.

"Fucking asshole- and I told you that I was working late!" She turned her frustrations on (Reader), squeezing their arm painfully before releasing them, making (Reader) lose their balance.

"I'm sorry, Mom.." (Reader) quietly apologized, already shrinking in on themselves, head hunching into their tiny shoulders.

"Jesus, stop flinching like that. You look like I beat you or something.."

It was true, she never hit (Reader).

She just grabbed them.

Grabbed them by the back of the shirt, the front of their collar, the arms, wrists, and all parents smack their kids on the back of their heads, that's not hitting. It wasn't her fault that (Reader) bruised so easily. She didn't even hit them.

The city bus pulled up to the stop.

"Kevin's coming over for date night, so when we get home, make sure to do all your homework in your room. I'll bring you dinner and some snacks, but the adults need some alone time, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Okay!" (Reader) loudly responded, wringing their shirt in frustration.

(Reader) liked their mom when they had popcorn nights, when they made a bowl of popcorn and sat down to watch a rented movie together. But most of the time? (Reader) hated their mother.

They hated the way she dismissed them. (Reader) never seemed to be a priority in the woman's life. It didn't even feel like she hated (Reader). (Reader) was just nothing. They didn't receive hugs when they were scared, didn't get kisses when they were sick. And it wasn't one of those cases where you can't remember a single good memory because you're mad; (Reader) couldn't recall a single time their mother ever said the words 'I love you' to them.

She said it to Kevin though.

When they arrived home, (Reader) immediately went to their room, closing the door and flopping onto their mattress on the floor. They didn't feel like doing their homework, and decided instead on a quick nap. It wasn't like their mother was going to check in on them and see how they were doing anyway.

Maybe their dreams would bring a nice family for them.

CRASH!

A loud smash of glass and something heavy falling onto the thin apartment floor woke (Reader) up. They didn't know how long they were out for, but the sun was still up. (Reader) nervously bolted off the mattress and onto their feet, teetering in the middle of the room.

There was a quiet choking sound that liquefied into a gurgle before silencing.

(Reader's) handle slowly turned and their door was softly opened. A terrified looking man drenched in blood stood in front of (Reader), gazing down at them with inhuman eyes. His eyes were wide, panicked, but glassy, red, and with pupils so enlarged that he reminded (Reader) of the ghost woman from a scary movie their mother had been watching. He tried to brush his black hair out of his eyes, never looking away from (Reader's). It was the most intense staring contest (Reader) had ever been in.

He was timid in his approach, crouching down to his knees as he got closer to (Reader).

"..Hi." His voice was shaky and breathy. The man seemed to be overcome with an emotion that (Reader) didn't recognize. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, yet he still didn't blink. He swallowed hard before continuing. "My name is Donavon."

(Reader) was in an odd trance, halfway between petrified and numb. "My name is (Reader)." They didn't know why they answered.

"I know." For the first time since entering, Donavon glanced away from (Reader), searching the room for something. There were no toys in (Reader's) room. "Are you a-" His face broke trying to find the words he needed for his question. "Are you a b-?" A- a-.."

"I'm a kid." (Reader) tugged on their uncomfortable long sleeve shirt.

Donavon smiled so wide that his face looked like it completely split in half. Tears ran down his face shamelessly. The pure joy startled (Reader). "You're a kid." He sniffed back his snot and wiped away some tears, still smiling so hard that his face was turning red and he looked like he was going to laugh. "You're my kid."

He pulled (Reader) into a hug.

It wasn't like the quick hug the school nurse gave them, or the hugs their friends at school gave them; it was desperate.

He squeezed them almost too tightly, his fingers digging painfully into their ribs as he breathed in their hair. But (Reader) didn't cry out or ask him to stop. Tears had begun to fall from their eyes as well.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. I should have been here. I should have been here." He started rocking (Reader) as he apologized into their scalp. "I didn't know about you, but I do now, and I'm here now."

(Reader) felt him kiss the side of their head quickly before he went back to whispering.

"I didn't know. But I do now. I'm so sorry."

It was too much, and it made (Reader) cry. They sobbed loudly, wailing into his chest as they returned the hug.

"I love you, (Reader). I love you so much. I don't know you yet, but I still love you. I should have been here for you, but I am now. And I am never letting you go. Okay? No one is ever taking you away from me."

Police sirens approached, screaming outside the building. (Reader) felt Donavon quickly reach into his back pocket, but he never let go from their right embrace.

"I never knew your mom. When I saw you with her last year, I - I tried to get into contact, but, but.. No one would listen to me, I had no proof.. I.. got a DNA test.. I -I'm your dad! I'm a father!" He started rambling, trying to explain things to (Reader), but they couldn't understand anything he was saying. And it didn't matter to them. He said he loved them.

(Reader) heard heavy boot steps and an officer loudly announce his presence.

"No one is ever taking you away from me again."

He was still only hugging (Reader) with one arm.

Someone entered the room, and a really loud sound hurt (Reader's) ears.

An officer shot Donovan in the shoulder, causing the knife he was holding to clatter onto the floor. He fell, releasing (Reader). They saw the knife and quickly put two and two together. But something happened in (Reader's) underdeveloped brain. It didn't matter that they had just met him. That man the police just shot was their dad. And he loved them.

"No!" (Reader) tried to launch themselves at Donovan to protect him, but their tiny body was caught by an officer.

"Don't worry, I've got ya!" The man tried to console (Reader), easily subduing their thrashing limbs, but his soothing voice didn't ease the pain in their heart, nor did it dampen the volume of their shrieks.

"DADDY!!"

The cop carried (Reader) out past the bodies of their mother and Kevin. Both were mutilated, lying naked near the couch in a pool of blood and spilt vodka.

Donavon was sentenced to life without parole.

He testified in court that the only thing he regretted was almost hurting his child. (Reader's) mother had taken advantage of him at a party years ago. Donavon had passed out drunk in the master's bedroom and woken up with his pants and underwear around his ankles. He told the court he didn't remember anything that happened, so although he suspected that someone had assaulted him, he had no proof and records showed that the police refused to help him when he went to report it.

It was a one in a million chance that Donavon saw (Reader) and their mother grocery shopping over a year ago, and nearly had a heart attack seeing a little kid who had his father's ears. Ears are just as unique as fingerprints, and to see a little kid with badly cut hair looking like a mixture of his father's baby photos and the woman walking beside them gave Donavon a sense of confidence that was borderline disturbing. He told the jury that he approached the woman with the intent of making polite conversation about how much alike her kiddo looked like his late father, but knew immediately that (Reader) was his, because when their mother looked Donavon in the eyes she recognized him.

"Before I could even say 'Hi', she grabbed (Reader's) arm and said 'Stay away from my child, Donavon.' I didn't even remember her face."

On the witness stand, Donavon admitted to breaking into their home so he could get access to (Reader's) DNA, stealing their hair brush. He also admitted to stalking the family, watching them as (Reader) openly showed signs of abuse. He called CPS multiple times, but nothing ever came of it.

Donavon repeated how time and time again law enforcement failed to help him get custody of his 'alleged' child, and that he had "snapped".

"I told (Reader) that no one would take them away from me again. Please, please I know I was wrong." Donavon pleaded the jury, looking past the lawyers and staring with his horrifying, never ending gaze. "Please don't put me away forever. I can get better, with help! I needed help! But my baby, my kiddo, they deserve better, please don't separate us again!"

Despite going to a decent foster family and receiving regular therapy sessions with child services, (Reader) had learned what true love was. The smiles their foster family gave them felt fake. No one could hug (Reader) tight enough to press their way into (Reader's) heart. Love was tears streaming down from the black coal eyes of a desperate father who just killed his kiddo's abusers. That was heroic. That was good. Just.

(Reader's) foster parents smiled at each other all the time, and said I love you multiple times a day. Then they divorced. Love was (Reader's) daddy, ready to kill (Reader) so they never had to be apart again.

The therapist with child services watched with a broken heart as (Reader) refused her homemade cookies. "Have you made any friends at school?"

(Reader) shrugged. They didn't see much of a point in friends. "There are these two kids I eat lunch with." Two kids who wouldn't leave them alone, no matter how much (Reader) ignored them.

"That's good! What are their names?"

"Miranda and Brian."

"Are they good kids?"

"They're weird. Brian wears glasses that make his eyes look super big, and Miranda wears a fedora."

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret. The weird kids are usually more fun to hang out with than the normal kids!" She winked while smiling, but it didn't phase (Reader).

"When can I see my dad?"

The therapist leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to control her inner turmoil before shutting her eyes. "I'm working on that, but it's very difficult. Mr. McElroy is in a lot of trouble for what he did."

(Reader) looked down at the drawing they had been making of them playing outside with Donavon. "I wish he killed me."

Part II

Warren had run away from home, again.

His left eye was swollen shut, and blood speckled the front of his t-shirt. The ten year old hadn't even done anything yet, but his father had had a bad day at work, and been drinking for a couple of hours by the time Warren was dropped off by the Saturday babysitter.

He ran into the woods, blinded by his tears and the swelling.

Because of the crying and injury to his eye, Warren couldn't see very well, and kept running even when he emerged from the trees into a clearing; running into a very deep hole.

There was a pain as his ankle popped, crashing at the bottom into the mud. Everything hurt, so he allowed himself to scream and cry as loudly as he needed. No one was going to come for him anyway.

And so he stayed in the hole and watched as the sun went down and the world went black. Even though he knew his father wouldn't come looking for him, he still wished he would. He wished someone needed him as badly as he needed them.

There was no moon that night, leaving Warren completely blind after the purple sunset left the sky. With his unusually dilated pupils Warren typically preferred the dark over the sun, but without the moon there wasn't enough light for him to see.

'Maybe, I should just spend the night in here.' The sad thought made him sniffle, threatening to release the floodgates again.

"It's right over here!" A loud whisper followed by feet tripping over branches echoed through the trees. Warren held his breath, suddenly afraid of being discovered. It wasn't logical to be frightened, but he was. There were strangers in the woods, and he was in pain and blind and alone. His heart beat in his chest like a war drum as people drew near.

"How do you know where it is?"

The voices belonged to children, probably around Warren's age, but he didn't recognize any of them. Most of what they said was too quiet to hear, until they arrived at the clearing.

"Over here."

The strangers stopped near the hole, but too far away to see Warren covered in mud at the bottom. Lights were illuminating the air, and Warren figured that they must have had flashlights with them. His eyes finally had enough light to adjust to the pitch black, and he watched a letter flutter into the hole, followed shortly by another letter, gracefully drifting in.

Then a thick envelope was chucked in, hitting Warren in the head, who had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from accidentally making a startled sound.

"What did you wish for?" Someone asked.

With that question, Warren realized where he was.

He grabbed the letter that had hit him, quietly opening it up as two of the strangers above him bickered. In the faint light he saw a lot of words, too many to read before they left, so he quickly scanned the page out of curiosity. His breath hitched when he saw a drawing of himself.

Black eyes and shaggy black hair.

Warren put the papers back in the envelope and stuck it in his pants. Someone approached the edge, and Warren caught a glimpse of hair and eyes. They didn't see him, but he certainly saw them.

"What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

"Someone who loves me.."

And at that moment, Warren believed in the hole that grants wishes.

He had no proof that the child looking down at him was the same child who threw the wish practically into his lap, but he knew that it was. Like fate, or magic.

After the trio left, Warren pulled his sore little body out of the muck, repeating (Reader's) name to himself over and over again as to not forget it. He didn't know how, but he knew that (Reader) was the one who's wish he had stolen. Warren limped home, easily sneaking in past his father passed out on the couch and up the stairs to the bathroom, where he locked the door.

He quickly pulled out the letter, opening it up in the light to read the wish in full.

"I wish someone would love me." Warren read quietly out loud, sounding out each word as his finger followed the sentence.

"He has to be just like my dad. Be - cause my dad is the only person who loves me."

"He has to have black hair and black eyes.."

Warren looked at his dirty face in the mirror, ignoring the purple around his left eye and focusing on his natural features. A proud smile crept onto his lips.

He went back to reading. "And his eyes should be deep.." Warren's own eyes were also deep set, making it look like he had bags under his eyes even after a full night's sleep. His ears started to turn pink. The picture was of the kid he saw at the hole with a tall man with black hair and eyes and a little guy who looked the same. He pointed at each person. "That's (Reader).. that's (Reader's) daddy... And that's.." he looked at himself in the mirror, tearing up with how hard he was smiling.

Someone needed him.

He turned the page over and his smile instantly fell, his blood freezing.

Pictures of bloody bodies covered the pages.

Page after page of dead people with the most intense things Warren had ever read followed the seemingly innocent wish. He hadn't been exposed to video games yet, his father didn't let him watch TV, and Warren ignored the other kids at his school, so he had never known violence outside of the terrible things his father did to him. And the words he read in that envelope were violent.

"True love is keeping me."

"If he loves me, he'll kill me."

"Don't let them take me away again."

"Together forever."

(Reader) was worried about the limitations of the wishing hole, so they felt they had to be very specific about their ideal boy. Which meant that they had to explain what love was. And to explain what love was, meant that they had to explain to the hole what their dad had done to their mother and Kevin.

It scared Warren.

But only for a moment.

He thought about the joy (Reader) would feel when they saw him for the first time, how their eyes would light up with love and adoration. In his mind, they would recognize him instantly, like their drawing come to life. Warren was their wish come true. And, in a way, (Reader) was his.

He slowly went back to his bedroom and hid the letter in his underwear drawer. The wish was like his most prized possession. Knowing that there was someone out there who needed Warren made him, for the first time in a very long time, feel hopeful for the future.

The next few years of Warren's life, however, were not pleasant in the slightest.

An anatomy book flew at Warren's face, connecting with his thin nose. He was now in highschool, and the abuse had only worsened.

"What the fuck is this?!" His father threw another medical book, terrified. In the past he used to throw and break things even though Warren's only crime was existing, but now even Warren could understand his father's disgust.

A rat laid on Warren's table, split open.

"I'm practicing.." Warren smiled, blood dripping from his nostrils.

"I should kick you out of the goddamn house!" The drunk man kicked a wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

"If you do that, I'll go to the police."

His father's eyes widened. "The fuck you just say, you little psychopath?!"

The man was very nimble for someone so swollen from years of alcohol consumption, closing the distance between himself and his son before Warren had a chance to put up his hands in defense. Large, yellowed fingers grabbed a fistful of Warren's greasy hair and lifted his dangerously underweight body off the ground; high enough where Warren couldn't touch the floor with his toes.

"Think about it. You have no proof for the cops that I killed this rat, but I have all the proof that you hit me." To emphasize his point, Warren didn't wipe away the blood that was now dripping onto the rat carcass.

Black eyes that held no light stared wide and unblinking at the disgusting excuse of a man before Warren. His father looked about the room, which was now covered in articles about some murderer from years ago and medical texts printed off at the local library.

Warren was dropped onto his ass. "Fucking freak." His father mumbled before stumbling out of the room.

It wasn't until Warren heard the drunkard smash though the hall towards the staircase that he finally grabbed some tissue to shove up his nose. It had taken him years and years of hard thinking, but Warren had finally found a way to be (Reader's) perfect husband. It was difficult, but the solution was finally discovered, a way to make (Reader's) wish come true without killing them.

He thought he would probably drop out of school, but that didn't really matter to Warren. The young man already had a part time job, and his future career as a manager for a small corner store was practically set.

Candid shots of (Reader) laid under the box of tissues. While (Reader) had continued growing into an attractive young adult, Warren was stunted. A lack of nutrition gave his unnaturally pale skin a yellow tint, and he was so thin that some of his teeth were becoming loose. But it felt as though he couldn't waste even a second thought on anything that wasn't (Reader).

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whiskers.." Warren apologized quietly to the dead rat. "I didn't mean to kill you. I'll do better next time."

Every time Warren saw (Reader) out and about, he wanted to drag them behind a dumpster and fuck them till they bled. It took incredible restraint to stick to his plan and keep to the shadows.

Their wish, laminated, hung above his bed like a prayer, one that he read and worshipped every night before bed.

Warren's father didn't notice when he stopped going to his classes.

He also didn't notice the muffled screaming from the basement, when Warren evolved his experiments from rats to people.

It wasn't until the smell became unbearable that he finally sobered up enough to go down and investigate.

As he searched the house for the cause of the smell, the aging, dying man briefly wondered when the last time he had been down in basement was. Or, when he last saw his good for nothing son.

The stairs to the lowest level creaked under his shoes, and an anxiety he had never before known trickled up through his bones.

At the bottom of the stairs, a door held back the stench like a leaking flood gate. Opening the squealing door wafted a wave of nausea inducing gas right into the man's face.

"Hey, ew what the- hey freak! You down here?! What's that smell..?" His eyes didn't have time to adjust to the dusty basement light before Warren swung a wooden baseball bat with spikes towards his father's face. One spike went through his skull near his nose and another popped open one of his eyes. But his death was due to the blunt force, cracking his head open as easily as smashing a watermelon. The junkie strapped and gagged to the table silently screamed as their one hope for salvation died in front of them.

"I'm sorry about the interruption." Warren smiled, his eyes still and unwavering. The man who had destroyed his childhood and stolen his happiness laid bleeding out on the floor, and Warren didn't feel a single thing. It was strange, part of him thought that he would feel satisfaction watching his abuser die, but he felt nothing at all. Warren only killed his father because he had interrupted his experiment with the homeless person who looked amazingly like (Reader). The young man held up a belt. "Let's continue."

Warren didn't consider himself to be a murderer. What he was doing to the people he abducted was for love. There was no evil or hatred, and if he looked at it in a certain light, he wasn't really trying to kill them at all.

Moving to the night shift gave Warren more time to stalk (Reader) during the day. Just as he had predicted, Warren became a higher member of management, and even 'owned his own home' now that his father had tragically passed. Everything was progressing perfectly, because his entire existence was a wish come true.

It hurt, hiding in the booth behind (Reader) and their friends, hearing about how they had started dating at the suggestion of their bitch therapist, but Warren decided that it was good for their relationship. It proved to him that even after all this time, (Reader) still loved him and needed him. Every time a date failed to live up to (Reader's) expectations it further fueled Warren's fantasy of how (Reader) would react when he finally revealed himself to them.

The dates also provided Warren ample opportunity to look around their apartment. Like when they went on a date with some whiny loser his age. He wasn't even (Reader's) type. Their home was small and quaint, and taking pictures of it in extreme detail helped Warren learn how to decorate the room (Reader) would be staying in once they finally started dating.

Dating.

The idea of merely "dating" caused a painful strain in Warren's chest, but he knew that it was only logical to date before he proposed. At least for a month or so. Maybe a week.

Well, whenever he did propose, Warren knew (Reader) would accept, because Warren was their wish come true. There was nothing he could do wrong, because his entire existence was due to (Reader's) will.

He didn't even bother cleaning off the dirt when he scuffed up the bedroom door. There was no point, because (Reader) wouldn't ever fear or hate anything he did, even if they didn't know he was the one responsible. Because that was fate.

(Reader's) undergarments rested on top of the dirty clothes basket.

Even that was fate.

Because why would they leave their worn underwear in plain view, if not for him? His hands with dirt crusted nails stroked the garment, imaging that he could still feel the heat of (Reader's) body on them. Warren imagined how happy (Reader) would be to learn what he did with their underwear, in their bed. He imagined their eyes glowing like an angel's as their smile graced his filthy presence.

Because this was (Reader's) wish.

And soon, Warren would finally give them their happily ever after.

Warren had put in for a week of vacation at his work; their shared bedroom was decorated; and his supplies were hidden in a backpack in the dirt behind (Reader's) complex. It was like a fairytale, when the knight came to save the dragon from the prince.

Rich approached (Reader's) front door as Warren dug up his hidden tools. Mud covered his face and gloves, but he didn't mind. In fact, it was like a mask, where only his true love would recognize him. Warren knew that his dream would come true that day, but it was even better than he had hoped for. Prince Rich was there to harass his dragon.

He had hoped it would be this easy, and the universe provided. Fate was always on Warren's side when it came to making (Reader's) wish come true. All those lives lost to Warren's experiments were not wasted.

The annoying voice of Rich was audible from outside the building, but it was difficult to feel anything negative towards to poor bastard. In Warren's mind, it wasn't Rich's fault that he was born to be such a loser; it was fate's design for the man to be sacrificed.

Warren threw open the front door, scaring the shit out of the stronger looking man. "Who the fuck is that?!"

Then, the sands of time were fused into glass by the electricity between Warren and (Reader). Their expression looked relieved, just as Warren had always hoped it would. A smile stretched across the beautiful lips Warren often fantasized about kissing. Their cheeks pulled up in the most honest grin Warren had ever seen.

Tears of joy decorated their bottom lashes like glitter.

"He's here to kill me."

Rich put up his arm as though to protect (Reader) from Warren. Again, Warren felt no anger towards the man and his silly reaction.

The bat used to kill Warren's father restarted time as it aimed for Rich's skull.

(Reader) looked up endearingly at Warren, now sitting on their knees in a pool of Rich's blood. The man before them was everything they had ever dreamt of. His black eyes never left (Reader's), even as he bludgeoned their date to death.

It took all of (Reader's) will power to not shake in their seat. Excitement flowed through their veins so quickly that it sent involuntary quivers through their muscles. Everything that they had ever wanted was finally coming true.

"I've been waiting for you." (Reader) felt their chest tighten as Warren approached.

But then he dropped his bat.

Their smile twitched a little, but (Reader) tried to not let anxiety ruin their happiest moment. The dirty man slid a backpack off and started rifling through it.

"I've been waiting for you too.." A voice that sounded oddly chipper finally responded, echoing from a wide grin that showed off yellowing teeth with a few missing on the bottom row.

(Reader) smiled harder. "You're going to kill me?" It was phrased like a question, but it was more of a plea.

"No."

"What?"

(Reader's) smile cracked in half. The adrenaline in their system turned deadly.

Warren's smile didn't fade.

"But, you have to." (Reader) began to panic. This had to be the man they wished to life. He had to be there to kill them. It was fate. He had to! "Aren't you here for me?"

"Of course I am."

"Then you have to kill me! If you love me, you have to-!"

Warren dropped his bag, revealing a hacksaw. He held it relaxed in one hand, and held a belt in the other. "Do you know how selfish you are, (Reader)?"

(Reader's) mind went numb with confusion.

"I've loved you for so long, and now that I finally have you, you think I'm going to kill you?"

"I'm not going to let anyone have you."

"Not even death."

The End

The two story house was full of trash bags. Every room in the building was full of clutter and filth, except the master bedroom.

Warren came home from a long shift, excited to have his precious spouse in his arms.

None of the guards at the prison would listen to Donavon when he tried to convince them all that something was wrong. A child suddenly not visiting their murderer of a parent in prison was not reason to go to the police and open a missing person's case. Even the officers that liked Donavon couldn't do anything.

The bedroom decorated to (Reader's) taste was unlocked by Warren as he finally climbed through all the shit. He entered their shared home with a warm expression of pure love on his face.

"(Reader), I'm home!"

In the middle of the room watching television was a wheelchair bound (Reader). Their arms and legs amputated, sitting helplessly in a soiled diaper. A drugged up, lopsided smiled sleepily tugged the corners of their mouth up.

"Welcome home, baby.."

A/N: Sorry it took so long, happy to start writing again ❤️

[corruptedcaps]

Possessive

Oh, quiet your whining. I'll give this body back to your girlfriend when I've completed my unfinished business or whatever. You think I want to possess your Rebecca’s body? It's so dorky and unathletic. Don't forget that I used to be head cheerleader before I died, so this is a huge step down in my eyes. It's not my fault her body is the only one I could possess.

But let me tell you something, I won't waste this opportunity. Being stuck as a ghost as so dull, and now I get to experience the living again. Sure, her body might not be perfect, but I'll make it work. And hey, I'll even bring some of that cheerleading spirit into her life. She'll thank me later when she's the most popular girl in school. So, quit complaining and let me do my thing. I promise you, I'll give her body back in top-notch condition. Besides, it's not like you have any other options. You want me gone? Help me finish my business, and then I'll leave you all alone. Deal?

How am I supposed to find out my unfinished business if I have to be stuck in your girlfriend’s clothes? That's why I went shopping for clothes more my style. It's not like I can roam around in those frumpy outfits of hers. I need something more alluring and fabulous. More my liking. Her body actually isn’t as bad as I thought. Especially after I hit the gym with it. Only a week in and it’s already more flexible.

So, I hit the stores and picked out some seriously sexy clothes that will make her old wardrobe look like a joke. Picture this: a sleek, black leather mini-skirt that shows off her now toned legs. I paired it with a low-cut, crimson crop top that accentuates her nearly perfect curves. Oh, and let's not forget the stilettos that add a touch of sophistication and make me feel powerful.

But the real showstopper is the crimson lace lingerie set I bought. What a peek? Of course you do. It's daring, it's fierce, and it's exactly what I need to remind myself that I'm still desirable in this world. It may be Rebecca's body, but I'm the one wearing it, and I'm determined to make the most of it.

So, here I am, looking fabulous, ready to take on the world. This unfinished business won't know what hit it once I get started. Oh, and don't worry, I'll return all of Rebecca's clothes to their boring place in the closet when I'm done. But until then, this body is all mine, and I'm going to make the most of it.

I was finding it hard and frankly boring trying to figure out what unfinished business I had so I recruited my old friends to help. I must say, it's been quite entertaining to see how easily I've manipulated them into following me, all without them knowing it's me inside Rebecca's body. It turns out that all she ever needed was a strong personality at the wheel.

My old clique fell right into line, just like the good old days. They can't resist being around the "it" girl that I’ve made Rebecca into. It's amusing to watch them compete for my attention, trying to be the one closest to the new popular girl. It’s kind of hawt making them bend to my will as Rebecca, when only a few weeks ago they were her bullies.

They listen to my every word, take my suggestions as law, and treat me like a queen bee as they should. I've perfected the art of a withering stare and a cutting remark that leaves them quivering in their boots. They want to be me, to be close to me, and they're falling over themselves to earn my approval.

I know you're mad that I've been taking so long, but you can't deny the improvements I've made to Rebecca's life, her body, her social status. Look at how she's thriving now, thanks to me! Besides, it's not every day your girlfriend becomes the center of attention and the most sought-after girl in town, you should be happy.

I get it, you miss the girl you knew, but let's be real, she was never this captivating. With me in control, she's more confident, more assertive, and more irresistible. I may be in her body, but I've taken it to heights she never dreamed of reaching. Never in a million years would she had tried out for the cheerleading team let alone run it like I do now.

Plus you can’t say you’re not happy with how hot I’ve made her. Weeks in the gym has given her an even better body than I had before. Her naturally slender frame was crying out to be whipped into shape. Plus look at the added effect it’s had on these tits, aren’t they glorious?

Tell you what, why don’t you touch them? Hell, give them a good squeeze. Oh fuuuuck yessss just like that. Bet Rebecca didn’t let you do this. You’re getting horny for bitchy little Rebecca aren’t you? Go on big boy, show me how much you love what I’ve done to her by taking out your dick and stroking it for me. Oh my, that’s certainly bigger than I expected from you. Yes stroke it for me baby, stroke it for baddie Becky. Oh you like that don’t you? Becky is a much better name don’t you think. Cum for me baby, cum for Becky.

You can’t be mad at me for making you cum every day this week, I’m just doing what comes natural to me, which is being a hawt piece of ass. Plus I’m not forcing you to do anything. I know you’ve been looking up ways to exercise me from Rebecca’s body to try and soothe your guilty conscience but I’m sorry to tell you babe, I’m never leaving. It’s my body now.

I’ve realized my unfinished business is to live a long and full life as Becky, the ultimate bitch. Come closer, darling. Look into my eyes and see the fire that burns within me. I’m more alive now then she ever was and even more than I had ever been in my own body. Being Becky has been the best thing to ever happen to me and soon it will be for you too.

You see, while you were busy searching for ways to banish me, I was doing my own research. Those books you've been reading, the ones on magic and exorcism, well, they caught my interest too. And I've delved into the dark arts, learning things that would make your skin crawl.

I now possess power beyond your wildest imagination, and I must say, it's quite liberating. I've discovered spells that can bend the very fabric of reality, including one that allows me to remove someone's morals. It's a fascinating little trick, and I believe you'll find it quite enlightening.

Like right now I’m sure you’re feeling all urges to purge me from this gorgeous body I’ve perfected just evaporate from your mind. In fact you feel a deep devotion to me, Becky, your gorgeous girlfriend. As much as I love that dick of yours i need a man to match it but don’t worry, I’ve got that all worked out. I’m a matter of moments you’ll be my handsome, strong and arrogant boyfriend who loves to bully as much as I do. You’ll have no memory of Rebecca or the loser that she was. All that you’ll remember is Becky.

Oh, darling, you know how much it excites me to see you bullying others. It's hard to keep my hands off you when you're radiating that aura of arrogance and charm. Who would have thought that beneath that sexy exterior, there was a deliciously dark and handsome bully? The way you sneer at those lesser souls, mock them, and make them tremble in fear—it's a work of art. Ugh I can’t stand it anymore, let’s get back to your car and fuck, it’s so hawt to hear you yell out Becky!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Superstar (Superstar Chapter 1)

I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl

Who's desperately in love with you

Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar

The Reader is thrilled to start a new job at AFC Richmond- especially since it means working with a certain player-turned-coach.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.7k words

Warnings: language (because Roy Kent); I’m a bit rusty so forgive my writing!

A/N: Been having some horribly bad writer’s block in addition to work stress. Thankfully my man Roy Kent helped me finally break through!!!

~

“Well, there she is!” Coach Ted Lasso waved enthusiastically as I parked my car in the staff lot. Next to him stood Rebecca Welton, who offered the tiniest of waves and something of an apologetic smile.

I took a deep breath, my hand hovering over the driver’s side door. First day on the new job: coach’s assistant. Between three coaches, there was a lot going on; they needed someone to handle communication, schedules, and small tasks so they could focus on training and (hopefully) winning. Having grown up just around the corner from Nelson Road, it felt almost like an honor to be part of the organization.

In a blur, Ted had firmly shaken my hand for what felt like an eternity, yammered off about a dozen Lasso-isms that I wasn’t quite sure I heard correctly, and ushered me into the building, all with Rebecca following along, interjecting short corrections and reassurances every time Ted paused to take a breath.

“And this here’s the locker room,” Ted announced with a small flourish. “Now, the boys tend to be pretty modest, the only one you may see too much of is Jamie, but if you just throw a towel in his face, he’ll take the hint.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to follow.

Rebecca touched my arm gently, that tight smile still on her face. “I should be going. But please, let me know if there’s anything you need. You’re in great hands,” she added, nodding towards Ted. “Welcome to Richmond.” With another touch to my arm, she was gone.

I followed Ted into the changing room. A few guys were milling about, still in their street clothes, chattering and beginning to put their things away. They looked up when I entered, offering small nods of acknowledgement. Ted rattled off their names, all familiar to me. I made mental notes about how each one smiled and shook my hand, trying to take snapshots in my brain so I could describe every moment to my family later that night.

After meeting all the players that Ted called “early birds”, I followed Ted into the coaches’ offices, where I was quickly introduced to Coach Beard, who nodded from behind a tattered copy of Either/Or.

“Now, Coach Beard and I share this office,” Ted was explaining. “You’ll be right through here. Hope ya don’t mind sharing!” He led me through the side door to another office. “I’m sure you know this ray of sunshine here is Roy Kent.”

My stomach jumped to my throat as the man in black track pants and a dark Richmond shirt glanced up from his desk. As if I really needed to be introduced to the man whose poster still hung above the bed in my childhood bedroom. Several kits sporting his name and number hung in my closet. Hell, for one birthday my jokester dad even got me a cardboard cutout of the man. It currently sat folded in the back of a closet in my flat, but it often made an appearance in my living room when I hosted game day parties with my mates.

I was pretty sure if I dug far enough in my parents’ attic, I’d find my school notebooks with “Mrs. Roy Kent” scribbled all over them.

And now he sat in front of me, staring up at me through thick eyelashes that made me go weak in the knees. A half scowl appeared on his face. “You’re the assistant then?” He offered his hand.

I nodded, praying that neither coach could see my body trembling slightly as I reached out to shake Roy Kent’s hand. “I- I am.”

Ohmygod ohmygod I’m shaking Roy Kent’s hand I’m touching Roy Kent Roy Kent spoke to me Roy Kent is looking at me ohmygod ohmygod.

It felt far too soon when he let go of my hand. “Well, as long as you keep your shit off my desk and don’t wear any rancid perfume, we should be fucking fine.” He nodded behind him toward an empty desk. “That’s you.” Without another word, he stood up, grabbed the notebook he had been drawing in, and left.

Ted beamed at me. “Well now, that went great! That’s about as charming as you can expect Roy to be, so count yourself lucky. Now, why don’t you get yourself settled and we’ll see you in the locker room in about ten minutes?”

~

“D’you like kebabs?”

I turned my head, pausing my fingers above my keyboard. “Excuse me?”

With a giant sigh, Roy swiveled around in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Kebabs. D’you like ’em?”

“Uh, I guess.” I scrunched my nose as I stared at him. After two weeks of working for Richmond, this was the first time Roy had spoken to me so directly. Up until now, it had been mostly grunts and growls in my general direction. But, after years of watching him on the pitch, I knew by the look in his eye that he didn’t hate me- at least, not any more than he hated the rest of the world. And that was fine enough with me.

“You guess?” There was that scowl. “You either fuckin’ like ‘em or you don’t.”

It took all my strength to suppress my grin. God, he was just as gorgeous as when I used to watch him play on the television. “Fine, fine. I like kebabs.”

With a suddenness that almost made me jump in my seat, Roy stood up. “Okay.” Without another word, he walked out of our office.

About twenty minutes later, a Styrofoam container slammed onto my desk. I looked up at Roy, who towered over me, a plastic bag clutched in his fist. He glowered at me.

“Thanks, Roy,” I managed, opening the box. Sure enough, kebabs. I smiled up at him, but his eyes were scanning my desk.

“That your family?” He pointed at a frame that held a photo my family had taken during a camping trip.

“Oh, yeah. My folks and brothers. They live not far from here. We grew up huge Richmond fans.”

His eyes continued to roam my work area. “What, no pictures of your boyfriend? Is he fuckin’ ugly or somethin’?”

My cheeks heated up. “No boyfriend.” Somewhere inside me, boldness surged forward. “What about you? I don’t see your model of the week on your desk.”

He smirked. Ohmygod he smirked. “I’m too fucking old for that shit now.”

“Uh huh.” I couldn’t make myself say anything else. All I could see was that smirk, and those brown eyes. Until I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Speak, you idiot! “I like kebabs,” I blurted. Shit.

The smirk softened slightly. “So I heard.”

For a moment he just stood there, smiling down at me. Then he cleared his throat, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Don’t tell anyone I got you lunch. They’ll be trying to make me some fuckin’ errand boy if they find out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

With a small hmmf, Roy nodded and headed back to his desk. I smiled down at the container on my desk and returned to my work, ignoring my burning cheeks.

~

“What does Jamie Tartt smell like?”

“Is the gaffer really like that in person?”

“Did you pass out when you met Roy Kent?”

Swallowing the bite of pasta I had been chewing on, I grinned at my family. “Tartt wears a homemade combo of Tom Ford, Dior, and Juicy Couture that he calls ‘Tartt by Tartt’. Coach Lasso is exactly what he seems. And Roy Kent…”  I cleared my throat and prayed my face wasn’t completely red. “He’s fine.” My voice cracked slightly. “We, uh share an office. He got me kebabs for lunch last week.”

“Come off it,” I scoffed. “Or else I’ll take back those VIP tickets I got you for your birthday.”

“Ooh, Roy Kent bought you kebabs?” my dad hummed, grinning at me pointedly. “My future son-in-law, the football superstar.”

Before my dad could retort, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, relieved to have a distraction.

“I’ve got it!” I just about sprinted down the hall to the front door, confident it was our elderly neighbor asking to borrow the spare key, as she did at least once a week. Instead, when I threw the door open, I found Roy Kent on my parents’ front porch.

“We should really put a fucking tracking device on you,” he grumbled as he moved past me into the entryway.

I stared at him, closing the door. “Um, not to be rude, but why are you here? At my mum and dad’s house?”

He shoved a manila envelope into my hands. “Some papers Lasso wanted you to work on if you can this weekend. Said it was important. I dunno, I don’t fucking listen to him when he yammers.”

“Oh.” I placed the envelope on a nearby table and folded my arms. “And how-how did you know where I was?”

Roy wiggled his phone in the air. “You’re one of those idiots that has their Snapchat locations on. You’re gonna get fucking murdered one of these days y’know.”

Right. Ted had made us all join multiple Snapchat groups with him; he was adamant about keeping our streaks.

I couldn’t help but grin. “And you’re gonna murder me?”

“Not today.” A small smirk cracked through that grizzled face. “But apparently if I wanted to, you’d be easy as hell to find.”

“I’ll just have to keep being a good officemate then,” I supposed teasingly. Am I flirting with Roy Kent?!

“You’re doing a fine job so far.” Roy took a step towards me, looking down at me.

Is he flirting back?!

My brain short-circuited. “Um, well I…” I coughed, looking around the entryway, as if I hadn’t walked through it my entire life. “Thanks for uh, bringing those papers.” A question interrupted the high-pitched buzzing in my brain. “Why’d you bring it by the way?”

Roy cleared his throat and took a step back, allowing a respectful space between us again. “Told you, Lasso said it’s important.”

“Yeah…” I started slowly. “But I’m sure it’s something you guys could’ve sent Will to do. Or something Ted would probably love to do, tracking me down to my dad’s birthday dinner. Why are you-?”

“He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent!” Beaming, my dad burst past me and clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder as Roy stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh hell, Roy Kent’s in my foyer!” He turned and faced me. “I can’t believe you got Roy Kent to come down here! You’re my favorite kid, you can tell your bloody brothers that anytime.” He grabbed Roy’s hand and started pumping it, reminding me of the first time I had met Ted. “It’s an honor to have you here. Absolute honor.”

I finally found my voice. “Dad, Roy’s just here giving me some stuff for work. He’s not here for your-”

“What kind of cake do you have?” Roy’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Chocolate,” my dad answered. “M’wife made it herself. And we have plenty of pasta if you’re hungry.”

Roy unzipped his jacket. “Then happy fucking birthday. Let’s eat.”

~

A half hour later, I was still in a state of shock. Roy Kent was sitting next to me in my parents’ dining room, chatting with my dad and eating my mum’s pasta. He took all everyone’s questions in stride, not seeming to mind how obsessed my brothers were. He only growled at them twice- once when they asked about his knee, and again when they said how much they like Jamie Tartt. Of course, they made kissy faces whenever Roy wasn’t looking, and my mum kept raising her eyebrows at me with a twinkle in her eye, but the dinner was much less painful that I had expected.

And getting to sit there with Roy’s arm pressed against mine? A dream come true.

My dad cleared his throat as my brothers began clearing the plates. “I think it’s time for presents and cake then?”

I stood up; my arm felt cold after having Roy’s arm keeping it warm. “I’ll be right back, gotta go get your present.” I pressed a kiss on my dad’s head as I passed by. “Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He offered me an assuring wink.

I quickly went up the stairs to my old bedroom, not completely closing the door behind me. Since I was planning to spend all weekend a their house, I had just haphazardly thrown all my things into the room when I had arrived after work. I regretted it now, noting that my idiot brothers could be saying anything to Roy while I searched for the envelope holding my dad’s birthday card and the tickets to Richmond’s next match.

I groaned. “Where the hell-”

“Ah, this isn’t the fucking loo.”

I whirled around. Roy stood in my doorway, eyebrows slightly raised as he glanced around the room. My cheeks burned as I watched him take in all the Richmond posters, which disproportionately featured his bearded face.

He is never going to talk to me again, a panicky voice in my head whimpered.

To my surprise, a small smirk formed on his face as he quietly closed the door behind him. “Why the fuck are there so many pictures of me in this room?” he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

I cleared my throat and stood up, straightening out my top as I cursed my teenage self for being so obsessed. “I, uh, I told you. My family’s huge Richmond fans. You’re kind of our favorite player. Hence, my dad’s excitement when he saw you.” I winced. Lame, lame, lame.

“So…” He stuck his hands in his pockets, still looking around the room at the embarrassing number of photos of himself. “Does that mean I’m your favorite too?”

Somehow, my cheeks grew warmer. “I… I mean… I guess.”

His eyes moved upward and widened slightly.

Fuck.

“Is that a fucking poster of me above your bed?”

I shifted my weight, wishing that somehow the carpet beneath me would spontaneously turn into a black hole. “Oh, you know, gotta keep the monsters away somehow.” You’re fired. You are so freaking fired for being a creepy fangirl.

Roy let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s what I’m good for? Scaring away fucking monsters?”

With a groan, I covered my face and collapsed on my bed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I grumbled. “This was my room when I used to live here, I was a dumb kid. I swear to God, my flat is normal. A normal adult flat.”

The bed squeaked as I felt someone sit beside me. When I peeked out between my fingers, Roy was looking at me with a hint of concern on his face.

“Hey, no need to be fucking embarrassed.” He glanced up at the poster that now laid directly above us. “Can’t say I blame you. I was young and hot.”

Despite my inner anguish, I moved my hands and grinned. “You’re not that much older now, Kent,” I teased.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m still hot then?”

Before I could come up with some clever retort, Roy cupped my face and leaned close. “Please say yes,” he said softly.

I gulped, knowing he could definitely feel it. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gently pressed his lips against mine, a soft, small kiss that made me melt closer to him. His beard tickled my face as his hand stroked my cheek. Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me.

When Roy let go, a tiny giggle escaped my lips. He smiled at me- a real smile, the one I had seen maybe a small handful of times on television over the years. He opened his mouth to say something-

“Oi!” A loud knock banged on the door. “Mum and Dad want to know if you’re snogging Roy Kent in there!”

Roy grinned at me, still holding my face. “Don’t suppose I can tell your brother to fuck off?”

I wrinkled my nose. “’d rather you didn’t,” I whispered.

“Well then.” Roy stood up, stretching out his hand to help me to my feet. “Guess we should go have some fucking cake.” He nodded up towards the poster above my bed. “You should bring that thing to work sometime. I can fucking autograph it if you want.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Laurence Olivier (Hamlet, Rebecca, Pride and Prejudice)—Any reference article will tell you that he's one of the finest stage actors of the 20th century and (arguably) contributed to transforming the landscape of live theater in the Anglophone world. But this is the Tumblr hot men poll, where it is arguably more important to know that he was an incredibly charming bi disaster who eye-fucked Vivien Leigh so conspicuously that everyone talked about it, both before and after their marriage. I do not have words for how hot this man was. I once sat under a portrait of him in black velvet and tights in the NPG cafeteria, and let me tell you I remember that so much better than my sandwich. I listened to a recording of him as Coriolanus on stage and got full-body chills. I photographed his copy of Richard III in the Folger Shakespeare Library for the sake of seeing his handwriting and his thoughts. ...okay, so I may have a problem, but the point is. So hot. And delivered one of the iconic pre-1970 lines about bisexuality on film ("oysters *and* snails," Spartacus 1963.)

Harry Belafonte (Carmen Jones, Island in the Sun)—one of my favorite things in the world when I'm sad is kicking back and listening to him and Danny Kaye singing "Hava Nagila" together. Or who can forget this man singing the Banana Boat song with the Muppets?? immensely talented, a powerful fighter for civil rights and humanitarian causes his whole life, if you have any remaining doubts PLEASE look at the following pics [clips and pics attached below]

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Harry Belafonte propaganda:

"Now let me say this about the songs of the Caribbean - almost all black music is deeply rooted in metaphor. The only way that we could speak to the pain and anguish of our experiences was often through how we codified our stories in the songs that we sang. And when I sing the 'Banana Boat Song,' the song is a work song. It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid, and they're begging the tallyman to come and give them an honest count - counting the bananas that I've picked, so I can be paid. And sometimes, when they couldn't get money, they'll give them a drink of rum. There's a lyric in the song that says, 'Work all night on a drink of rum.' People sing and delight and dance and love it, but they don't really understand unless they study the song that they're singing a work song, a song of rebellion." -Harry Belafonte

Laurence Olivier propaganda:

"THEE actor man. You can't take theater classes and not know about this man. THEE Hamlet. Look at this lil blondie. VERY talented. (we are ignoring him also playing Othello, no he should not have done that) He was a pretty baby"

[mumblelard]

this morning, while i was cleaning my french press with a brightly colored party napkin, i could hear the mormon missionary kids downstairs playing goofy pop music, getting themselves ready to head out into the world for the day

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS I | LONDON CALLING

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T (language) 

word count: 4,772

summary: you arrive in richmond anxious about starting your new life, but quickly feel at home among this new cast of characters. one of them is of particular interest to you for some reason. 

A/N: thank you to everyone who read the prologue, sent messages, and left nice comments in the reblogs and tags!! would love to continue to hear your thoughts. 💕

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

The next two weeks are somehow the slowest and quickest two weeks of your life. You put your notice in at work the second you can. The coworkers you mingled with the most are sad to see you go, especially Kara. On your last day, she surprises you with flowers and candy, and you wish you’d spent more time with her. You make a mental note to reach out to her from time to time. 

Your landlord lets you leave most of the furniture behind since you won’t be needing it all at your new place. Rebecca promised the flat she had for you was both homey and chic. Despite being eager to get out of there, you feel a sense of loss as you say goodbye to your apartment before heading to the airport. Even though your relationship was far from perfect and ended tumultuously, you and Mason made some good memories there. You watched your first Richmond game there, even though you had no idea what was going on. And now here you are on an eight hour flight to London, getting ready to work for Richmond. 

You thankfully sleep most of the trip, having opted for a late night flight, so by the time you land, it's the afternoon in local time. You have no idea how you’ll manage to sleep at a reasonable time tonight, but that’s later-you’s problem. 

The butterflies that have taken up home in your stomach since you left finally take a break from aggressively fluttering around when you see Ted and Beard waiting for you outside. You break into a huge grin before jogging over to the duo. You instantly feel at home when Ted is engulfing you into one of his signature hugs, and you come to the realization you haven’t seen him since he started coaching over here. Same with Beard, and while the two of you wouldn’t normally go for a hug, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him briefly anyway, and you can tell he doesn’t mind at all. 

“How was your flight, Kiddo?” Ted asks as they lead you to a fancy black car parked nearby with an even fancier-dressed man. 

“It was good,” you respond distractedly, “I’m sorry, do you have a driver?” 

Ted smiles as he pulls out the back door for the two of you, Beard rounding the other side, loading your bags into the trunk. “Courtesy of Rebecca. She wanted to make sure you arrived in style.” 

In the back of the car, you fit snugly between the two coaches and you couldn’t be happier. 

“And don’t worry,” Ted continues, “We came over here as soon as training ended, so most of the team should be out for the day. And as far as everyone else knows, we’re just two generous colleagues who offered to pick up the newly-minted foreigner from the airport. No one will know we’re secretly two of your favorite people in the world.”

You chuckle, but you appreciate his words. Turning to glance at Beard, he mimics zipping his lips shut and you mirror him with a giggle. 

The car ride back is filled with loud chatter as the three of you- mostly you and Ted- catch up, while you try not to be alarmed by the fact you’re driving on the left side of the road. When you pull into the parking lot of Nelson Road Stadium, you feel the butterflies start to return. Here we go. 

The driver follows you, promising to wait in the lobby until you’re ready to head home for the night. Beard heads to the coach’s quarters while Ted introduces you to everyone you pass on the way to Rebecca’s office. You try not to seem overeager to meet her in person - which you are. You cautiously follow Ted into the room, overhearing the familiar sound of Rebecca’s voice mixing with someone else’s. When their attention is drawn to where you and Ted are standing, Rebecca enthusiastically stands from her couch to greet you and you’re instantly taken with her presence- she’s even more beautiful and tall in person. 

You go to shake her hand but she opts for a warm hug as she tells you how excited she is for you to join the team. She and Ted introduce you to Leslie Higgins, Richmond’s Director of Communications. He shakes your hand with a kind smile, but you can tell he’s surprised when he hears your American accent for the first time. The three of you don’t give him a chance to question it as Ted drags you back on your welcome tour. But not before Rebecca demands you text her later that night to tell her what you think of the flat she readied for you.

Ted takes you back downstairs to where the locker rooms and coaches offices are. To Ted’s earlier point, not many players are around but you can’t help but be intimidated by the few you meet briefly. You’ve never been around famous athletes before. You try to remember their names - Colin and Isaac are the two that have stuck so far. You smile at Beard’s familiar face when Ted takes you to their office, knocking on the window to grab another man’s attention. Ted informs you that the man is Roy Kent, a name you recognize from the handful of games you’ve watched over the years. He’s another coach for the team now. Roy grunts out a ‘nice to meet you’ without bothering to turn around, but Ted lets you know that's a pretty nice gesture when it comes to Roy, so you take it. 

As you leave the locker room, you meet the team’s kitman, Will, who immediately seems like the sweetest person in the world and you hope to get to know him better during your time here. 

Finally you make it to what Ted describes at the main event - the pitch - and he was right, it was glorious. You’ve never been in an arena of this size, and despite not being too big of a sports person, you feel excitement engulfing you. You’re only pulled out of your trance as Ted calls out to one lone straggler who seems to be getting in some last minute practice on the field. 

“Hey Jamie!” Ted yells across the field, “Practice ended over an hour ago bud! Grab a shower and go home and get some rest.”

Jamie jogs over to you two with the soccer ball under his arm, “Aye aye, Coach.” Out of breath, the not-unattractive footballer looks you up and down. “Who’s this?”

You introduce yourself and Jamie shakes your hand once before dropping it.

“She’s Rebecca’s new PA we told y’all about earlier this week. She’s going to be helping out with some social media posts and what not.” Ted reminds him and Jamie seems to nod in recognition.

“Guess I’ll be seeing ya around then.” he smiles politely and then heads back inside. 

You and Ted spend a few more minutes admiring the stadium but your interest shifts to Jamie. He looked familiar, but not from the football matches you’ve watched, you don’t think. But where else would you have seen him?

Eventually Ted leads you back inside, finally showing you where you’ll be spending most of your time. He explains that your office used to belong to the team’s PR person, Keeley Jones, before she left to start her own firm. He says the club is still one of her top clients, so you’d be working closely with her from time to time, and that he couldn’t wait for you to meet her, claiming you’d absolutely adore her. You believed him. So far you were taken with everyone you’ve met. Rebecca was incredible, Higgins seemed great, Colin and Isaac a fun pair, Will a sweetheart, and Roy an interesting man you looked forward to learning more about. Even Jamie - who you couldn’t get a read on just yet - still intrigued you. 

You plop down in the desk chair now belonging to you and can’t help but spin around a few times. Ted chuckles and tells you he’ll leave you to get comfortable for a bit while he finishes up some things for the night, promising not to be long before he comes back to take you home. 

Finally having a moment to yourself after almost 12 hours, you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Distracted by the excitement of being in a new city, catching up with Beard and Ted, and meeting your new coworkers, you hadn’t had a chance to process that you did it. You uprooted your life and successfully made it halfway across the world to start a new one.

Before you let complete panic sink in, you open the laptop sitting neatly on your desk. There’s not much on the computer, but there’s a folder with information about AFC Richmond and the players. You decide maybe you should start learning everyone’s names since you’re going to be responsible for curating their social media presence and such soon. Looking at the team roster, your eyes immediately find Isaac and Colin’s pictures, feeling proud that you at least know a couple players' names. Same with Jamie, but then you scan the rest of the roster and realize there are a lot more names and faces you don’t recognize. Your mind scrambles to come up with some mnemonic device to help you remember everyone, but before you can come up with a comically long sentence, there’s a knock on your office door. 

Looking up, you expect to see Ted, but instead find a younger man with a bright smile. You feel a burst of recognition and glance down at the roster on your computer, matching the face of your visitor with one on the screen.

“Oh, hi! Are you…Sam Obi…”

His smile doesn’t falter as he steps into your office. “Sam Obisanya,” he pronounces smoothly, and then says your name just as eloquently. “I just saw Ted, and he told me you’d just arrived and I wanted to take the chance to say hello and welcome to the team.”

Warmth spreads across your chest as you smile back at him, “That’s so kind, thank you.”

“Of course! I know you haven’t been here for long, but how are you liking things so far?”

“Oh it's been good,” you trail off, finding yourself unable to lie to his sweet face, “A bit intimidating.” 

He frowns, “Why’s that? If Jan Maas said something strange to you, he’s just blunt because he’s Dutch.”

You chuckle, briefly glancing back down at the roster to put a face to that name. “Noted. But no, I think I’m just realizing how much I don’t know about soccer, or football, I guess. And that there are a lot of you to remember.”

Sam laughs, “We are a large team. Anything I could do to help?”

Part of you wants to be nice and tell him he doesn’t have to stick around any longer, but the anxious part of you grabs onto the life line, “Actually, yes, could you help me get to know all the players’ names- like, tell me things about everyone so it's easier for me to remember?” You lean back and tilt your computer towards him so he knows he’s welcome to stay, and he immediately gets settled in one of the chairs on the other side of your desk. 

You spend the next thirty minutes getting to know Sam as well as the rest of the team, and you already feel more at ease. Sam proves to be even more wonderful than his first impression gave off. He shares hilarious anecdotes about every footballer on the team, and before you know it you’re able to recall who people like Dani and Zoreuaux and Bumbercatch all were. 

Sam and you also exchange some personal stories. You tell him about your life in Chicago and how you were looking for a fresh start, albeit leaving out a few details you don’t want to burden him with on the first meeting. Sam shares that he'd moved to England a few years ago from Nigeria, and that he was going to open a Nigerian restaurant here soon for a little taste of home. You told him you couldn’t wait to try it. By the end of your conversation, you feel like you have someone you can call a friend in Richmond, and Sam even offers to show you around the city during some off time later this week. 

As Sam gives you one last quiz about AFC Richmond’s player’s and your eyes linger on Jamie’s picture again, your brain finally remembers how you know him. You flashback to a memory of Kara practically giving a full PowerPoint presentation to your office back home on the drama going down on her favorite British reality show. 

“Oh, my God,” you yelp, scaring the hell out of your potential new friend who rests his hand over his chest, “Sorry, I just realized how I know Jamie.” 

“You’ve met him before?” Sam questions, surprised. 

“No, I’ve just seen him on that one show, Lust something…”

Before you have the words out, Sam is cackling, “Yes, Lust Conquers All! Not Jamie’s finest moment but definitely a memorable one.” 

“God, he was such an asshole,” you comment, recalling the way he acted in the few clips Kara showed you. 

“Oh, he was,” Sam nods, “He used to be a total prick. He still is sometimes, but more in a loveable way.” At your unsure expression, Sam elaborates, “Jamie’s been through a lot. And yes, he used to be very self centered. But since Ted’s been around, he’s become a better teammate, and a better friend.”

You can’t help but smile at the nod to Ted’s impact. It doesn’t surprise you in the least; he’s always bettered the lives of the people he’s met. Still, your heart swells with pride. 

“Well, either way, I look forward to seeing what he’s like off the screen.”

Sam heads out a little after that, with another promise of being your tour guide this weekend and another to have lunch tomorrow. Then Ted’s coming back to collect you to take you home for the night. You bid a farewell to Rebecca in the parking lot before you’re driving off. After making sure you can get into your apartment building, you say goodnight to Ted, who promises to walk with you back to the stadium for your first official day tomorrow. 

When you enter your new flat, you’re taken back by how much you love it already. The furniture is feminine but not overly posh. The décor and colors are bright without being over the top. It feels more like you than your old apartment, even though you picked out that place and the furniture yourself. You quickly remind yourself of Mason inserting his opinions over yours when it came to those choices, before you push all thoughts of him away for the night. 

You spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes and other small belongings. You’re pleasantly surprised that you're eager to sleep as it gets close to an appropriate time for bed. You quickly change into the first set of comfy clothes you find and climb into your very large and very comfortable bed. You text Rebecca to express how much you adore the flat and how grateful you are for everything. She responds pretty quickly, telling you that you never have to thank her but she’s glad you’re settling in. 

You bury yourself under your covers, trying to coax your thoughts away for a good night’s sleep. But your mind runs rampant with thoughts of working with Rebecca tomorrow and hanging out with Sam. A new country, new job, and (hopefully) new friends. It’s only been one day but you were already feeling reassured about your decision to move here. Which is good because you only bought a one way ticket. 

Your first few weeks with AFC Richmond could not have been more of a dream. You didn’t expect to enjoy working for a football club as much as you do. Where your old job was drab and had you focused on making boring food and clothes sound appealing, with this job you got to spend time with the players who were actually interesting people you got to promote. On most days, you got to hang out with the team and film content while they practiced or played. Sometimes events occurred after training or games so that’s when you’d gotten to know a lot of them. You were closest with Sam, who you’d begun to spend more time with when neither of you were working. On other days, you’d work more closely with Rebecca, assisting her with more mundane tasks, but still more enjoyable than any of the grunt work you did back in America. And Rebecca had quickly become one of your favorite people to be around. You didn’t think you’d meet a more remarkable woman until a week in when she introduced you to Keeley, who you’d already heard so much about. No surprise she lived up to the hype. 

Keeley is the friendliest and most talkative person you ever met, and you hope her and Rebecca’s energy rubs off on you even just a little. The pair of them quickly included you in their girl talks and invited you to sit with them during games when you’re not busy capturing content. They also quickly caught you up on the gossip around the club, first and foremost that Keeley is still getting over a breakup with Roy, and apparently she doesn’t quite understand why they had parted ways. While she seems to be mostly handling it alright- meaning not taking a job an ocean away from home to run away from him- it gives the two of you something to bond over.

When you have time to yourself, you try to sit down and write. Sometimes you’re able to get a few sentences typed out in a Word document, before you’re furiously smashing the back-space button because you hate every word. One day, you share your writer’s block struggle with Trent Crimm, a former journalist who Ted is letting shadow the club for a novel he’s writing. Roy and the team had been pretty bothered at first, but everyone is on better terms these days. Despite your respective preferences for non-fiction and fiction, Trent gives you the advice to not force anything. You’ll write when you’re ready. And while you appreciate and try to take the advice, you wish you were ready now. With a job that doesn’t make you want to rip your hair out and a beautiful city you’ve been exploring, you should be more inspired than ever. But so far no such inspiration has struck. So you try to be patient. 

Instead you focus your energy on helping Keeley with the new Bantr campaign she has AFC Richmond collaborating on. Most of the team is staying past practice to get new promotional pictures shot and in a few weeks you’ll be helping Keeley shoot video footage for the ads. You couldn’t help but feel excited to be on this side of the advertising world, and actually be a part of the team that's being advertised.  

You're squatting on the ground, off to the side so you’re not blocking any shots. Your phone is unlocked and ready to capture some BTS of the photoshoot as Isaac is the first team member to get his picture taken. As you're about to press record when the photographer begins to shoot, you can’t help but giggle at how serious Isaac is taking this. He stands stick straight with his hands clasped behind his back and lips in a straight line. 

“Something funny, new girl?” he asks without breaking eye contact with the camera. He’s been calling you that since you arrived despite now having been around for a month. You think he means it affectionately, though he probably wouldn’t admit it. 

“No, it's just you look so…stern?” you chuckle as you start recording a clip, “If this is for a dating app, shouldn’t you try to look more appealing to any potential suitors?”

“I thought they were blurring our faces?” he asks with furrowed brows, referring to the fact that the app was anonymous and this ad campaign would be following suit.

“Yeah, but don’t you want to be a sexy blur?” 

This makes Isaac crack a smile as he lets out a surprised laugh. You snap your fingers at the photographer, “There, get that!” 

Satisfied with your first piece of content for the night, you stand up and join Keeley where she’s observing everything from behind the monitor displaying the photos as the photographer takes them. 

Keeley smiles at you, “That was pretty good! They could all stand to loosen up a bit - they’re not taking mugshots.”

“That’s literally what all of their football headshots look like,” you joke, “Is there no smiling in football?” You laugh together as another idea strikes, “Hey, what if we play some music? That might relax everyone and loosen them up?”

Keeley’s light up. “That’s a great idea,” she turns to face the other players waiting for their turn, “Oi, does anyone have a speaker?”

Colin raises his hand, “I’ve got one in my locker.”

Moments later, the locker room is filled with upbeat music from a playlist Keeley curated on the fly. The team’s energy instantly escalates, and so do the pictures of them. As Dani takes over Isaac’s spot in front of the camera, you hear someone whispering your name from outside the locker room. You find Sam waving to you from the doorway. You smile and jog over to meet him.

“Looks like a party in here,” he comments amusedly. 

“Yeah, why aren’t you participating by the way? Got a secret girlfriend you’re not telling me about?” 

Sam flushes, “Not quite. I just don’t want to appear too…available.” 

You quirk your eyebrow, “Suspicious but I’ll allow it. So what's up?”

“I wanted to know if you were free Friday night? We end practice early that day and I was wondering if I could take you to that museum I told you about if you still haven’t been?”

“No, that sounds perfect, I would love that!” 

You share excited smiles. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

“Bright and early.”

As you bid good night to Sam and return your focus back to the shoot, you note that Jamie is getting his photo taken now. You accidentally catch his gaze and successfully fight the urge to break eye contact. You offer a smile as you go to get more footage for Richmond’s Instagram, but Jamie returns the smile seemingly half heartedly. You try not to take it personally since you haven’t really had the chance to get to know the guy since you’ve been here. You wonder why that is. While you weren’t very close with many members of the team, aside from Sam, most of them have taken opportunities to get to know you a bit. Except for Jamie.

You try not to dwell, knowing enough about his reputation to know not being close might not be a bad thing. 

The rest of the photoshoot goes extremely well. The Instagram stories you post of the guys are already gaining a lot of attention, and the photos look incredible. You ask Keeley to see if you can get Bantr to let the club use the photos as some of their new imagery online, knowing it would be a shame to just blur them and not have the world see the player’s personalities. As the team files out for the night, you stick around to help Keeley and the photographer pack up, wishing them a good night as you need a few things from your office before you head home. You think you’re the last one there until you hear a voice coming from the parking lot as you exit. Once you’re outside, you recognize the voice as Jamie’s with his distinct Mancunian accent. He appears to be on the phone but you can't make out anything he’s saying on the other side of the parking lot. Even from afar, you get the sense that it's not a pleasant conversation, so you linger by the door to give him some space. Luckily, Jamie’s hanging up with whoever it is a few seconds later, giving you the chance to resume your journey home. You try not to startle him as you get closer but you do anyway. You immediately apologize, letting him know you’re just passing by and you didn’t mean to sneak up on him.

“It's alright,” he assures, though he still seems a bit off, “Didn’t know anyone else was still here.”

“Just me,” you shrug. You know you shouldn’t say anything and just continue walking home, but you have to ask. “Is everything okay? I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, but that phone call sounded tense and you look…unwell?”

Jamie eyes you like he’s trying to figure out what your angle is. You hurry to reassure him.

“I know we hardly know each other, so in no way do you owe me an explanation, but just figured I’d check in.” 

Jamie nods slowly. For a second you think he might share something with you, but instead he just lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders sinking, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

You accept his answer and nod. You’re unsure of what to say next, or if you should say anything. You’re about to turn around and wish him a good night when he’s the one that speaks up. 

“So you and Sam seem quite close.” 

You turn back to him and narrow your eyes at him, “Yeah? He’s been showing me around the city.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, “Are you two…,” your eyes narrow in a full squint as you cross your arms to egg him on, “Seeing each other?”

You can’t help but laugh. In no way were you expecting him to ask that. “Why do you care? Do you have a crush on Sam or something?”

Jamie’s face scrunches up, “No!”

“What then? You gonna tell me Sam’s nice-boy persona is actually an act and he’s secretly been plotting to murder me?”

“No, Sam really is that nice.” 

“Then why are you asking if I’m dating him?” 

“I’m just curious,” he spits out defensively, “Wasn’t sure if it was alright for players to hook up with the club’s employees or whatever.”

“Oh,” you lower your defenses for a second, “...So you have a crush on Beard then?”

Jamie’s defensive resolve melts away as he actually lets out a laugh at your teasing. “No he aint my type. Beard’s too scratchy.” 

You laugh along with him and enjoy that he played along. 

“Well then to answer your question, no Sam and I are not dating, we’re just friends. And no, I don’t think there’s technically any rule against any consensual mingling between the staff and you footballers.

“Hmm,” Jamie nods, his lip pouting a bit, “Good to know.”

“I’m glad to be of help, but I should get going,” you start walking backwards towards the parking lot’s exit, “But I’ll see you tomorrow I guess?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jamie steps towards you, “You’re just going to walk home alone? At night?” Jamie glances around and answers his own question when he doesn’t see another car in the lot besides his own. “Can I drive you?”

You shake your head assuredly, “Don’t worry about it. I walk home everyday. My place isn’t far.”

You can tell he wants to respect your answer, but asks one more time, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you smile, “Have a good night, Jamie.” 

He gives you a small smile back, “You too.” 

You wave before shoving your hands in your coat pockets and take off down the road. When Jamie’s sports car drives past you, he honks the horn twice and you chuckle. 

During your short commute to your flat, you replay your interaction with Jamie. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to be like. While your conversation was brief, it seemed like he was a decent guy and that he had a sense of humor. The way his hair fell messily on either side of his face was nice, but that was neither here nor there. Maybe Sam was right. Jamie Tartt wasn’t so bad. 

A/N: mwahahahaha

[toxic-libra]

style - jwy (m)

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader (interactive here) words: 6.9k genre: second chance romance, smut warnings: 3rd person pov, this is 'based' on style - taylor swift, mentions of old hollywood movies (please watch them bc they're super good), smut with biting, thigh riding, oral (m and f), not my best work but give me a chance pls a/n: i was supposed to post this on his bday, but i was at taylor's concert and lmao i kind of got depressed after and hated everything i wrote. this is my debut with ateez so i wanted it to be perfect, but inspiration just fucked me up and i decided to post it anyway since it's been too long already :(

Jung Wooyoung remembered it all too well. He remembered how the delicate musky sandalwood of her signature perfume made his heart tug whenever she was near, the way his stomach flipped when their eyes met, and how his fingers always itched to be touching hers.

Autumns and winters were always the worst.

He could hear all the lines of Rebecca (1940), one of her favourite movies, whenever someone tried to make small talk with him about the weather.

‘Most girls will give their eyes for a chance to see Monte.’

Clenching his jaw, he locked his phone and tossed it aside, trying to digest the fact he was the one who took that damn picture and she decided to post it just when it had been two months since they las saw each other. Not that she was as considerate as to block him so he wouldn’t spend hours on her social media, feeding on any crumble of appearance she dignified her followers with.

Y/N was petty like that.

She didn’t block him, no. She muted him and vanished from his life, but she didn’t give him the pleasure of not having to erase her from his world. If he wanted her truly gone, then he had to do it himself… Which, of course, proved to be a failure.

Because he didn’t want her gone. He tried moving on, only it didn’t work.

Wooyoung wondered if she also thought they made a huge mistake.

Turning his streaming service on, he searched for another one of her 40’s TOP5. Clicking on ‘The Shop Around the Corner (1940)’, the Old Fashioned tasted way bitter on his tongue than it should.

With a condescending sigh, he relaxed against his couch, and waited for Klara Novak (played by Margarete Sullavan) and Alfred Kralik (James Stweart – not surprisingly, one of Y/N’s favourite actors) to engage in their enemies to lovers plot as if he didn’t see that damn movie a thousand times already. Only this time, like others during this year apart, she wasn’t around to swoon over any minor interaction and to almost beam in happiness when Mr. Kralik said:

‘Take me out of my envelope and kiss me.’

Oh, there he went again… Quoting old movies like it was part of his personality.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

A month later

Y/N dried her hair and breathed in the woody scent of her haircare products – a tiny bit of her heart warming at the thought of Wooyoung. He used to love how she smelled.

“Are you ready, sis?” Jongho knocked at her bedroom door.

“Not even close! You can go first, I’ll tag along later.” She yelled back.

“I’ll wait, no problem. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the surprise by mistake.”

“You just wanna make sure you don’t miss his shocked face when he sees me.” She giggled.

“You know me too well.” He sighed in feigned despair. “But do hurry up, please.”

“I’ll try.”

Y/N couldn’t rush everything. She wanted to look so good Wooyoung would almost faint as soon as his eyes laid on her. Not that she wouldn’t almost faint either… Just the perspective of being at the same place he was made her throat dry.

She missed him in ways she never missed anyone else before.

Deciding on the black dress, she admitted that the fact that he loved that colour made her like it even more. The small slit that drew up her right thigh would also catch his attention, and she couldn’t wait to have it all for herself. Her jewellery were ones he gave her over her birthdays, just to poke at their own stupid game. She didn’t spend much time on make-up, choosing to remain simple and classic – eyeliner and red lipstick… Which Wooyoung also liked.

Most men hated being smudged with lip tint, but he adored it.

The first person she saw was Seonghwa. With one of the prettiest smiles that graced humanity, the tall and handsome man approached her with open arms.

“Isn’t this the greatest surprise ever?!” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“Glad you like it,” She hugged him tight. “Because I’m back for good.”

“Oh.” Although subtle, Hwa’s smile faltered slightly.

“What?” She frowned.

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

“As of now, just Jjong and you.”

“Right. Makes sense.” He muttered to himself, doing his best not to look over his shoulder. It would be heart wrenching to let Y/N see Wooyoung with his date first thing inside the party.

Of course, she would eventually meet them… There was no way his friend would be as crass as leaving the girl alone because his ex (and the woman he was still in love with) was back in town. Wooyoung could be a little impulsive, but he had manners. And Y/N probably wouldn’t get that hurt from it, but she’d get hurt, nonetheless.

“What makes sense?”

“Oh, the fact that the boys were so quiet. If they knew you were coming, they’d be hyped as fuck.” It wasn’t even a lie, just not exactly the truth. “Let’s grab you a drink and get going, then.”

Hwa’s smile was slightly off, but she didn’t point it out.

Ordering her standard autumn/winter drink – French Connection –, Y/N relaxed against the bar stool. Jongho was nowhere to be seen, which made her a bit insecure. Things were always bit easier when her brother was next to her.

“So, what else is new? How are you guys doing?”

She was fishing for information, obviously. She couldn’t directly ask about Wooyoung because her friends didn’t know they secretly met in Monaco more often than not.

In her defence, the first time happened rather unexpectedly, and it led to a second, and a third… By the fourth, they decided it was better to pretend every time was an accident and keep their friends out of it. Wooyoung normally wouldn’t be this good keeping secrets, however, something in him had shifted. His boyish air had vanished almost completely, leaving his wicked jaw and sharp eyes without the warmth he once carried within him.

He walked with confidence, still. Nonetheless, every move seemed calculated, controlled. The carefree Jung Wooyoung she loved was swept by the future CEO Jung. And while she looked at Seonghwa, she wondered if he had noticed that too.

“We’re fine… We’ll probably be even better with you around now.”

“I hope so.” she grinned as the bartender handed her a glass. “Oh, thank you. Where are the lads? I want to see them. Is everyone here? Hongjoong too?”

With a sigh, he held her hand. “Listen, darling, I’ve something to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Woo… Wooyoung came here with a girl.”

For a second, Y/N felt the air burning her lungs at the same time someone punched her stomach. Well, she supposed he wouldn’t stay single forever… However, the fact that she had to witness it three months after meeting him was too sour and pitiful. “Oh, I see.” Her voice came out crooked.

“It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Just a date for the party.” Hwa squeezed her fingers tenderly. “You know he’s still as much in love with you as you are with him.”

But before she could react to his words, her attention laid on the man in question: dressed in a black three-piece suit, his dark long hair was slicked back, only some bangs’ locks falling off from the gel hairstyle. Y/N clenched her jaw, heart thumping so fast she was sure everyone could hear it. Luckily, there was no girl next to him, only her friends.

“Shall we go greet them?” With a haughty pose, one that differed completely from what she felt inside, she tugged at Hwa’s arm, dragging him towards their group.

In slow motion, Wooyoung watched Y/N approach him. When their eyes met, the party seemed to disappear, only the two of them in the ballroom. His fingers flexed on the Old Fashioned glass, demanding a lot of self-control as not to rush to her, hug her tight and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t do that for a thousand reasons, but the impulse was almost cruel.

He still loved her.

He was afraid he’d always love her.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung.” Her smirk was subtle, and there was a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful orbs. The playful tone was laced with politeness, but he knew her all too well.

As if they didn’t see each other a month ago in Monaco, he breathed slowly, letting his lips stretch and mimic hers. “Long time no see, Y/N.”

Straightening her back, her suave pose disappeared as a girl’s hand rolled around his forearm. Then, the jest was replaced by possessiveness, gaze darkening. Jealousy was the lousiest bitch.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lia.”

Well, at least that didn’t come accompanied by ‘His girlfriend’.

“Enchanted. I’m Y/N Choi.”

And since the girl didn’t react at the sound of her name, Y/N supposed she was rather new there. Lia was new enough to not know about her, and wouldn’t stick around enough to do so.

“I can’t believe she’s back!” Hongjoong celebrated, a huge grin on his face and open arms.

“I’m back, Joong.” She agreed, hugging him. “Back for good!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Were you living abroad?” Lia questioned, curious.

Y/N sipped on her drink, cocking her head to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘living’, but you could say that, yeah.” It was more like ‘suffering while trying to pretend everything was fine’.

“Why, though?” The quip came from Wooyoung. His eyes were glinting with a mix of grudge and challenge. “I thought you’ve always wanted to move abroad.”

“Where did you live? Europe? The USA?” Lia butted in.

“I spent some time between London and Monaco.”

“Oh my God! Monaco must’ve been a dream! I’ve heard there are some cute guys there, and rich too. Did you meet any? Are they really handsome?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling rather silly for being jealous of that girl. No one would dare to talk about crushes and money in front of a potential boyfriend, so that meant Lia felt nothing for Wooyoung, right? “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like… Meeting new people there.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Why meet any boy if her heart was still set on her ex? Why pretend she could replace him with another rich dude?

She couldn’t, it was pointless.

Not when Monaco screamed them. If she was Taylor Swift, ‘Cornelia Street’ would be called ‘Monte Carlo’. And like Taylor said on her lyrics, Y/N couldn’t walk around any corner of the small principality without being reminded of Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help that, although breaking up, they engaged in secret rendezvous more often than not… And each reunion just proved her how any other men paled in comparison to him. It was ridiculous to have an ‘affair’ with her own ex-boyfriend; she always condemned people that broke up and still kept hooking up with each other… Until it happened to her.

To be quite honest, the reason they broke up wasn’t exactly because of bad behaviour. There wasn’t cheating, nor deceiving. They didn’t fall out of love, either – in fact, Y/N was sure she loved him even more with each month apart. However, love alone wasn’t enough to calm her restless mind, and he too seemed eager for… Well, she didn’t know?! Things were just different. The weight of responsibilities and the need to make something, any difference in the world drove them apart.

Wooyoung was taking his position in his father’s business, and Y/N had no idea of what to do with her life (again). She acknowledged her timing was shitty, for he needed something concrete to hold onto while everything changed… But… She was afraid of not being good enough for him. He was becoming the Business Prince he was born to be, and she… She was just the shallow heiress with nothing important on her ‘life curriculum’ that the media thought her to be.

Then, London seemed a good escape.

It was a familiar place, offering her some comfort. Not warm and soothing like Wooyoung’s presence in her existence, but enough to keep her going.

She occupied her mind with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and when it was over, she had the overwhelming desire to call Wooyoung and tell him she finally did something about those 68 stories she wrote throughout her writing life.

Now, they were face to face and she didn’t know what to exactly say.

“Right…” Jongho intervened. “Big sis, we should greet some people now.”

And like smoke, Y/N disappeared from his sight for the next hour.

Ordering his third Old Fashioned, Wooyoung recognised the almond-shaped red nails, especially the black onyx ring on her middle finger.

“A Death in The Afternoon, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“No French Connection?” He looked at her.

“Summer habits die hard.”

“I thought you preferred winter.”

“Any champagne of preference, miss?” The man asked Y/N.

“Veuve Clicquot.” They answered at the same time.

She sighed, biting a faux grin and playing with the gold band on her finger. “I see we still have some stuff in common… Does your date like signet rings?”

Wooyoung was wearing his black onyx signet ring… Y/N’s one twin.

“I’ve no idea; never asked her.” His eyes traced her neck. “No pearls?”

“Not with black satin.” She quoted Rebecca (1940), heart thumping with expectation.

“I thought it was never wearing neither one nor the other.”

Thank God he still remembered the movie!

“You can’t blame me for loving pearls and black satin, I look divine in them.” She jested, flicking her hair in a haughty way. “So, I try not to wear them together.”

Ogling her from head to toe, Wooyoung’s grin was one of a panther, although he felt his stomach tightening and the annoying dryness of his throat. “Cheers to that. You do look divine.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort in this.”

“It wasn’t needed. You look good in anything.” ‘Even better if stark naked’, but he obviously wouldn’t say that. Before he could comment on something else, his drink arrived. “Thanks, lad.” Turning to her once more, he kept grinning, although less sincerely. “So, see you around, Y/N.”

“Wait.” She called out before she could stop herself. He just raised his eyebrow, like he used to do whenever giving someone his initial attention. “I was hoping we could talk about my being back home… At some point this weekend, maybe?! Are you free?”

“I’ll be free after the party, if you want.”

“Well, don’t you have other plans with your date?”

“I don’t and you already know it.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“I couldn’t just invite you, could I?” He retorted.

Her jaw clenched, swallowing the apologise. They were in public, not the right place to discuss their relationship. “Text me when you’re ready, and we can meet up.”

“Alright.”

“See you later, then, Woo.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Wooyoung still lived in the same penthouse. It was painful sometimes, for the whole place had a bit of Y/N in it. He kept their photographs, kept the clothes she left behind, kept everything he could. It wasn’t his wisest decision, however, breaking up with her wasn’t one of them either.

And now she was back.

She was back and wanted to talk about it.

Now, way past three in the morning, he wasn’t drunk, but had the weirdest taste on his mouth – something like hope. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to smell her again. To touch her, kiss her, set every emotion free.

Dragging himself to the mirror of the entrance hall, he combed his hair with his fingers and smoothed out his shirt, opening two buttons just because.

At the sound of the doorbell, he took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“Well…”

The small, almost timid smile Y/N gave him was enough to make his knees wobble.

“Hi there… Uh…” She opened her arms. “Here I am.”

With a chuckle, one that made her eyes water a bit, for it resembled the Old Wooyoung so much, he let his body cage hers, holding her in a tight hug.

Wooyoung always gave the best hugs.

“Hi there, love.” His voice was slightly raspy, quite full of emotion, the nickname slipping past his tongue before he had any chance to keep it locked.

They remained there for a minute or two, feeding on each other’s presence and feeling each other’s warmth as if the sun was finally out after a fortnight-long storm.

“I’m back, Woo.” She said against his torso. “I’m back for good now.”

“And what does it mean?”

Y/N knew he wanted to hear her exact words, even though he already knew why she was there. And, because she loved him so, she didn’t have any problem laying her chest bare for him.

“It means I’m sorry I backed off when you needed support. Sorry I freaked out and thought lowly of me, and ended up hurting you… Hurting us in the process.” She put some distance between them, trying to be as honest as possible. “All this time apart proved to me that you’re my only one and I was really dumb for thinking I could ever move on from you.” She offered him a shy smile. “I wanted to be worthy of you, but I didn’t understand I could do that while being with you. My mind and insecurities blinded me, and I ran away. I hurt you deeply, and I’m so very sorry.”

Wooyoung nodded, face serious.

“You did hurt me.” He agreed. “I wondered what had happened, why you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t.”

“This was clear by our second meeting in Monaco.” His grin was slightly off. “But it angered me that, although we kept seeing each other, you never suggested for us to get back together.”

“I still thought you deserved better.”

“Well, turns out I’m the one who gets to decide who or what is good for me, Y/N. And you were it.” He noticed how her expression dropped, probably due to the use of past tense. And Wooyoung had learned to be cruel to others, his job required him to be cold and controlled, but he could never be like that with Y/N. “And you still are, even though you hurt me.” Her beautiful eyes stared at his, hopeful. “When I saw you at the party tonight, the world slowed down. It’s no use pretending I don’t miss you and I don’t love you; we’re old enough to stop playing these games now. It was alright when you were in Europe, but now you’re back, and I’m not in the mood for halves. So, it’s either all of it, or nothing at all. It’s either starting over together, or ending everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite the ultimatum. “I want to start over. I want to be with you.”

“So no running away whenever things get difficult, nor making assumptions, ok?! I’m not one of giving second chances, Y/N.” He warned. “And I’m not interested in having my heart broken again. I hate being like this, hate being sceptical and cold. This isn’t me.”

Y/N nodded. “I won't let my insecurities and paranoia hurt you again.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I want to make you happy, see you happy. If things get hard, I’m more than honoured to be your safe-haven… You don’t have to move to fucking Europe to sort it out.” He rolled his eyes, sounding more like the Wooyoung he once was.

“Want me to pinkie-promise?” She stuck her pinkie out, grinning.

“God, how I’ve missed your inability to take things serious!”

“Hey! I’m mature now.”

“Nah,” He shook his head, one hand cupping her cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours the whole time, and I don’t plan on running away ever again.”

“Thank God.” Wooyoung whispered against her lips, starting a searing kiss.

Y/N relished in his lips, fingers threading in his dark locks. He tasted like Old Fashioned and home; he felt like the rays of sunshine on a spring day; he smelled like the best mix of spiciness and man. She couldn’t get enough of him, and it was pointless trying to pretend so.

“Woo, I…” Her voice was breathy, conflicted.

“You…?” He frowned, brown eyes fixed on hers. “Should I stop?”

“No, don’t!” She sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know if… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Well, they’d agreed to be back together, right? It was better getting it off her chest quickly, so he wouldn’t doubt her later on. “I love you.”

With an easy smile, one that obviously didn’t mirror the flood of emotions, Wooyoung kissed her urgently, again. She sighed against his mouth, tongue quickly searching for his before she lost her last thinking brain cell. It didn’t take more than a minute before a cheeky and feminine hand found its way down his torso, tracing with pointy nails from his belly to his crotch. Wooyoung pulled at her hair, pushing her face upwards and changing their kiss angle, then, he groped her ass, relishing on the feeling of her plump bottom and the luxurious velvet of her dress.

Y/N gasped for air, pressing sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. She gave him small bites, sucking on his skin and mirroring how she would do on more private areas. She untucked his shirt off his trousers and fumbled with his belt, patience running thin.

Why the fuck was he wearing a belt, in the first place?!

“Don’t you dare getting on your knees now.” He warned, predicting her actions.

“Pardon?” She hesitated.

“I’ll come so fast if you give me a blowjob, we’ll lose all the fun.” There was an adorable blush on his cheeks, despite his mockery tone and bossy warning before.

Her heart tugged at the sight.

“Then we do need a new approach, for I was really hoping to choke on your cum as soon as possible.” Now it was her turn to say something obscene with flushed cheeks.

“May I choke on yours first?” He offered, a smirk growing on his lips.

“By all means.” Y/N giggled, shaking her head in agreement.

Wooyoung pushed her against the wall, eyeing her for a brief second before stealing another kiss. At every stroke of his tongue there was a silent promise; he tried to pour both love and lust in it. Then, he got on his knees, pushing her dress upwards and revealing her legs. Y/N helped him by holding on the skirts, bunching the fabric up next to her waist. She felt his hands on her feet, undoing her shoes, then they were on shins, tickling their way to her thighs until they rested on her bum, kneading at the flesh in pure hunger.

Wooyoung kissed her lower stomach, nibbling lightly at her smooth skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmured against her, grip tightening.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I’ve missed you more.”

“Is this a competition?” She eyed him in defiance.

“What if it is?!”

Y/N chuckled, combing his hair out of his forehead.

“Then I won.”

“I don’t think so.” Wooyoung touched her panties, his thumb drawing small circles right on her core. He kissed her right there, his tongue swiping up and down the lace and its warmth travelling through the fabric, making her shiver. “You better hold onto my shoulders, love.”

Y/N moaned loudly, feeling her legs bend a bit and skin tingle. She quickly took her dress off and tossed it aside; getting drunk in the way Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, hypnotised by her boobs. She rested her head against the wall with a loud thud, but pain was the last thing on her mind. Slowly, he rolled her undergarments down and launched his mouth on her, sucking and licking in lazy strokes like those that he knew would drive her insane. His touch, his kisses, his presence… She beamed in joy at the sight of him, and she would regret every second of their breakup because it was a waste of time for both of them. As for Wooyoung, he knew no other woman would compare to her; no one else fitted him as Y/N did.

She tugged at his hair, forcing her hips down to create a bit more friction. His short nails scratched her thighs, bringing her even closer. Normally, she would prefer to lay, but there was something rather wicked about that position, especially knowing that they were by the door… It didn’t matter he lived in the penthouse, she wondered if people on the other floors could listen.

His heart fluttered as she came, the most wicked and lustful moan of his name coming from her lips. Y/N felt gooey, her legs begging for buckling down and resting anywhere… Preferable on a bed… However, Wooyoung seemed to have other plans.

Tugging her by the hand, he brought her to the nearest chair in his living room and sat down with her nestled on his lap. He kissed her jaw, delicately biting at the flesh.

“Ride my thigh, love.” He murmured against her chin. It sounded like a suggestion, but Y/N understood the meaning: an order.

“While you’re wearing trousers?”

“Mm-hm.” He shook his head in agreement, finger pads pinching one of her nipples.

“Won’t it stain?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flew back to hers, a mockery gleam fighting its way beyond the lust.

“Are you trying to gain yourself some minutes?”

Busted.

Ugh, how she hated him for knowing her so well!

“I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be for those doing your laundry.”

“I’ll do it instead.”

“You? Doing the laundry?!” Y/N grinned in pure jest. “Jung Wooyoung, part-time millionaire and part-time CEO, doing housework?!”

“Full-time millionaire and full-time love of your life, as decided minutes ago.”

“What an amazing career.”

“You just gotta focus on what you do best.” He shrugged, putting on a serious expression though his voice was soft, cheerful even.

“Well, God help me, for you do that perfectly.”

Y/N kissed him, shivering when his arms rounded her waist to pull her closer to his crotch.

“Ride my thigh, Y/N.” Wooyoung said again.

Her eyes flew shut after listening to her name falling from his lips. Promptly, she moved, straddling his leg and rocking her hips against his pants. One of Wooyoung’s hands groped on her ass while the other went up, scratching her ribs on the way to her boobs. His head dipped down, tongue darting around the bud, licking and sucking it as he felt her body tensing.

“It’s too much.” She moaned.

He paid her no mind, keeping the assault until she started trembling.

“Can’t you take it?” He rasped against her collarbones. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Y/N gulped, mouth dry and heart beating so fast she was sure Wooyoung could hear it. She was also sure he knew she would do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making her feel good, so she just went back on grinding on his thigh without answering directly to his question. Besides, words escaped her as her second orgasm approached.

“Fuck, love, you’re fascinating.” it came out breathy, Wooyoung’s teeth sinking onto her shoulder. He felt the spot next to his knee wet, noticed her hips losing strength speed.

It was the second bite that undid her truly. She shook, nails leaving red lines on his backs and arms tightening around his neck, bringing him even closer. Then she collapsed against him, panting. Wooyoung peppered kisses around her jaw, smoothing her hair and praising her for being the best of girls, for obeying him and cumming again.

“Wooyoung,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve made a mess of your trousers.”

“It’s ok, love. We’ll take it off.” He smiled softly. “Are your legs working?”

“Barely, but I can try to stand up.”

“No, no, no. I’ll just put you...” He murmured while pushing her to the side and standing up himself, leaving her on the chair. “See? I’ll take it off.”

“Oh, no, wait!” Y/N slapped his hand. “Let me do this.”

Fuck, he could cum on the spot. She really was at his house, the living room’s dim light casting over her while she fumbled with his trousers, and it downed on Wooyoung that she was back.

And she still loved him.

And they were together again.

“Here, sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” She gestured, getting on her feet too.

Oh, damn, he knew where that was going.

“What did I tell you about getting on your knees?”

“You choked on my cum already, now it’s my turn. Be fair!” Y/N pouted.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, God, the things I wanna do to you.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. Soon, he forced it in, attentively staring at her mouth while she sucked it inside, cheeks hollowing. “Please, if you could do the same to my dick, I would…”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” Y/N chuckled, bringing his hand to full view and tracing her tongue on the tip of his finger. His chestnut eyes were a shade darker, pupils blown open.

“All mine, I guarantee.”

But before she could dive in, a familiar ringtone erupted from the floor, his trousers vibrating at the rhythm. It startled them, though Y/N’s reaction was only a small grin whereas Wooyoung’s was an annoyed grunt, cussing in a low voice.

“Maybe you should pick it up?”

“Absolutely not.” He refused to move and spoil the moment. His dick was hard, he finally had her back and between his legs (ready to suck the soul out of him)… He waited more than a fucking year for that, whoever called could damn wait too.

“What if it’s important?”

“There’s nothing more important than your pretty mouth around my cock, love.”

“But…”

“On your knees, darling.”

She gulped, slightly annoyed by the fact he could change the mood with only one phrase. It never failed to surprise how much effect he had on her.

Trying not to let his temper rise, Y/N went back between his legs. She caressed his thighs, nails trailing them slightly. Then, she went up, unbuttoning his shirt while he glanced at her with a hunger in his eyes. She pushed off his shirt, being awarded with the sight of his tattoo. Hands palming his torso, she mapped his skin, tracing the Latin phrase, wanting nothing more than to eat him open. She licked her lips, heart thumping loudly against her ribcage.

“Why are you staring?” He wondered. “Do I look too tempting?” He jested.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Delicious as fuck and all mine.”

“I like how it sounds.” Wooyoung dipped his head down, pecking her lips. “And you’re all mine.”

“Always have been.” She agreed.

His stomach churned at the gleam of lust in her beautiful eyes. “Suck.”

The order came out simple and serious, a bit like the new Wooyoung he was.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his thighs, the very ones she rode a while ago. Well, she was already in the rain… Let it all get wet.

Literally.

She gathered some saliva, palming his dick and spitting right on its head. Wooyoung breathed audibly, chest rising in a lungful expanse. Y/N moved her hand on him, spreading her spit and hearing his quiet moan. With a grin, she closed her eyes and sank down on his shaft, tongue circling the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

She wasn’t that good with having dicks on her throat, always gagging and getting teary eyed, but this time she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to make him feel as marvellous as she felt during her two orgasms. Hence, she watched her breathing and swallowed him deeper. Wooyoung said something through gritted teeth, a hand flying to her hair and holding her head in place. Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing up and down for a brief minute, forcing the movement against Wooyoung’s command. His hips bucked, making his cock hit her throat and she feel the burn in her eyes, tears coming almost automatically.

“Fuck, love, you’re gonna…”

He was cut mid-sentence by her gaze and thought he would explode. If there was anything hotter than her sucking him off and his cock was gagging her… Wooyoung didn’t really want to know. He honestly wouldn’t survive it.

Y/N repeated the motion, then she backed off with a gasp, drooling all over him. His hands were shaking, making him slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop even if I gag.” She ordered.

“Ugh, the things I wanna do to you, darling…”

“It’ll have to wait a bit.” She kept her fingers busy, caressing him while she took a breath.

Then, Wooyoung watched, mesmerised, Y/N’s wickedness take control: she turned her attention to his balls, licking it up and nibbling at the sensitive skin like he used to do with her clit. Words escaped him, so all he did was let out a raspy moan, tightening his grip on her hair.

Her tongue swirled around his shaft and she swallowed him again, tilting her head slightly so he could start fucking her mouth. He caught on her idea and adjusted his position, moving his hips smoothly, testing the angle. Y/N gagged once again, because that way he hit a spot too close to her throat, and although it was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t be hornier. Just tasting him and hearing him moan, knowing it was her own doing… It made her all wet and desperate. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Wooyoung – he looked hypnotised, almost drunk on the scene… On her.

It was all so erotic, so lustful, so right. He couldn’t tear his gaze as his dick disappeared on her plump lips, accepting all of him in as if she was born to suck him off, as if she was starving for it.

“Can I cum in your mouth, love?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside. “Or should I cum in your pussy?”

She whimpered, doing her best to shake her head positively, nails clawing at his thighs for support. Her knees were starting to hurt, legs sore and quite numb, but she really wanted to taste him before they properly fucked.

At her consent, Wooyoung’s mind clouded, Y/N being the only thought echoing. He shivered, the orgasm hitting so strong his belly clenched and his toes curled; he spilled inside her mouth, a deep, sexy groan erupting from his own.

Y/N swallowed and wiped her mouth, climbing his legs and sitting on his lap. She caressed his face, drawing all of his angles and mapping them on her mind once again.

“I love you.” She whispered next to his ear. “And I intend to make it up to you every day.”

“You’re a fucking minx.” Wooyoung murmured, a small smile reaching his mouth.

“Full-time minx?” She joked.

“Yeah. And full-time love of my life, so don’t fret.”

“Good.” Y/N stole a peck. “Good.”

They kissed in a lazy, tooth-aching romantic dance. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it was addictive, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

Then, after catching some breath and regaining more strength, Wooyoung hooked his arms around her legs and stood up, grinning at her wide eyes and high-pitched yelp.

“Hold tight, love. We’re going to the couch.”

“You should’ve said that before.” She giggled.

Wooyoung moved as if he was used to carry her all the time. Laying her down, he hovered over her, kissing her once more. This time, it was sloppy, teeth clashing as they touched each other all over – Y/N’s sharp nails digging at his back, leaving red lines on its length, while he groped at her thighs and ass, letting her wet pussy grind against his stomach and hips. She moaned, breaking the kiss and bending her head backwards when she felt his touch creeping down, stopping right at her core. Wooyoung didn’t mind it, kissing her neck instead, and plunging two fingers inside her, moving them slowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N cursed. “Please, Woo, please.”

“What are you begging for, love?” He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, heart beating a bit too fast at her desperation, at the fact that she was his again.

“You.” Her teeth tucked his bottom lip at the same time she tugged at his hair, her pupils blown wide, hungry and desperate for anything he could give her. “Always for you.”

“But I’m already yours, Y/N.”

“But I want more. I want everything, Woo.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.” Setting his fingers free, it was time to fuck her properly.

He thrusted, finally linking their bodies. She hugged him, nails digging onto his back and leaving crescent marks; her legs pulled him even closer. His cock twitched, being devoured by her tight cunt. Wooyoung couldn’t even control his own muscles, so eager for his own release and to make Y/N feel good, like she deserved after repenting.

They were so focused on each other that every movement felt calculated, synchronised. Where she went, he followed, and vice-versa. His belly tensed up when one of her hands held his ass, groping at it while she let out a low, sexy laugh.

“You fucking minx.”

“It’s mine to touch,” She pouted, bathed in feminine power. “All mine.”

Something switched in his demeanour and Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her arms up, a strong hand blocking them from moving.

“Well, you’re all mine too. Mine to touch,” He brought another hand up, fingers intertwining with hers. “Mine to kiss,” A hungry, wet kiss stolen. “Mine to please,” His pace quickened, cock throbbing while she clenched around it. “Mine to…”

Love.

He growled, combusting in emotions. Y/N seemed to understand, because her eyes shone in a warm, romantic gleam. She got teary, pleasure so unbearable, so suffocating her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was still sensitive from the other orgasm, which made this one stronger, more devastating. Gripping at Wooyoung’s hands, she found in him her safe-haven.

Feeling her clenching around him just made his dick harder, and he was surprised at the fact… Normally he had to rest a bit before he went from one orgasm to another. Sitting up, Wooyoung hugged her by the waist, bringing her body closer, letting her nipples grind against his torso as she rocked against him in a steady speed. Bouncing, Y/N created enough friction and Wooyoung moved to match her speed, their muffled moans paired up with their hips colliding were the only noises echoing in the room.

They kissed again, messily and hungrily. She held him with such strength, anchoring on him as if her life depended on that. It was intense and raw, her body subconsciously trying to conquer his, claim his as hers… Although she didn’t need that anymore. He wouldn’t belong to anyone else… He didn’t want to. It was Y/N from the beginning.

“I’ll probably leave some red marks on your shoulders…”

“It’s ok.” He kissed her jaw, muffling another moan.

At each sharp and fast thrust, at each moan and kiss, they got further lost on each other. His dick twitched in earnest, feeling her so snug and wet around him. Y/N trembled at the breath denial, causing her stomach to tighten in delight. Wooyoung felt his body giving up and cursed low, unable to hold back anymore.

“Love…” He rasped. “Are you with me?”

Her teary eyes were enough answer. Wooyoung wanted to say a couple dirty things, however, the grip she had on his cock robbed him his sanity, so he just plunged on her violently, guiding both of them to the climax. Y/N shook from head to toe, moaning his name like a prayer and squeezing him like she had claws. He bit on her shoulder again because he knew she loved that. His fingers dug into her skin, also leaving marks.

The only noises were their panting. He rested his face against her neck, giving it small bites and kisses. Playing with his dark, long locks, Y/N sighed in contempt. How could she think it was possible to be happy without him when she was only happy with him, because of him?!

“Why?” She heard his muffled voice.

“What?”

“Why are you sighing?” He moved slightly, so they could look at each other.

“Just because.”

“Perhaps because you’re in your favourite place in the world with your favourite person?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “God, you’re so conceited!” Slightly tugging at his hair, she shook his head a bit. “My favourite place is Monaco.”

“This still makes me your favourite person.” He grinned.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Playfully rolling her eyes, she pouted.

“I’m not tired at all. I suggest we grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and celebrate a bit more, hm?”

“Will you help me remove my make-up first?”

“Of course, it’s classic Y/N-Wooyoung behaviour.”

She smiled, knowing that everything would be alright again.

[aalyssah]

Still My Beautiful Girl

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Body Shaming, Cursing, Fluff, and Mentions of Killing.

Word Count: 2,279

Summary: Bucky's guards begin to gossip about your stretch marks, but Bucky assures you that they're beautiful, and shows his guards to keep your name out their mouths.

A/N: I got inspired by a prompt I saw in a prompt generator about stretch marks, so here's this story. Hope You Enjoy!

You woke up to the sound of something being knocked over, following a muffled curse word.

You groaned as you turned, your sore, heavy body aching. Just then, Bucky came into view, hair wet, and only in a towel.

When he saw you attempting to get up, he quickly rushed over to your side to help. "Woah, slow down, doll. Let me help you." You let Bucky help you sit up, with him making sure you had a lot of pillows on your back.

"Mmm, you smell nice, where are you going?" You asked him, eyes closing at the fresh smell of his clean body. "Got a meeting for a possible trade." Your mouth turned into a small pout, sadness taking over your features.

Bucky groaned, throwing his head back. "Awe, don't look at me like that! It's not gonna take long, only an hour or 2. I promise." Bucky lastly said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

He then leaned down to your 8 month pregnant stomach and pressed another soft kiss to it as well. "Daddy will be home soon, princess." You giggled as Bucky talked to your belly.

Over the last couple of months, Bucky started talking to your bump. It started late at night when he would come back home from a meeting or a gruesome fight.

He would say things like; "I can't wait until you get brought into this world. I'm gonna spoil you so much." And "How's your day been? You haven't been giving Mama any trouble, have you?" And the baby kicked, almost as if she was responding to him.

That really got the Mafia boss crying, holding you until you fell asleep.

Your thoughts were ripped apart from you when Bucky came into your vision, dressed up in a black suit. He had your favorite smoothie, peanuts, and a small yogurt in hand.

"This is for when you get thirsty, when you want something salty, and something sweet, but healthy, so you shouldn't need to get up for anything." Once again, you giggled at his words.

Every single time Bucky leaves the house, even if it’s for 2 minutes, he gets you snacks that can check off all your needs while he's gone just so you won't get.

(You still do, but he doesn't need to know that.)

Bucky gave you a serious look and kissed your lips. "I'll be back soon, I love you." You repeated it, back, feeling a little bit sleepy. Bucky noticed and helped you lay back some, making sure you were tucked in, and left for his meeting.

While he was gone and you were asleep, you had a weird dream. For some odd reason, you were dreaming about Pizza. Pizza Hut to be exact.

The thought of the red sauce, with nice pepperoni, and warm cheese had your mouth watering in your dream.

When you woke up, you instantly thought of it, ignoring the snacks that were on the nightstand and slowly got up.

You held your bump, letting out a breath. "Jesus Becca, you're gonna take mommy's back out." You muttered to yourself as you back started hurting.

Bucky doesn't know it yet, but you plan on naming your little girl Rebecca, after his sister that died. As soon as you found out it was a girl her name popped in your head.

You made your way downstairs, and just as you hit the corner, maids were there, cleaning the living room. "Mrs. Barnes, you should be up right now!" One of the maids named Mary called out.

She rushed to your side, guiding you to the couch. "Oh Mary, you're starting to sound like Bucky." You joked, but a smile didn't come to her face.

"What are you doing down here? If you needed anything, you could've just called me and I would've came upstairs." You smiled at her worried tone. "I'm actually really craving pizza right now." Mary laughed, shaking her head.

This isn't the first time you've craved a pizza after having a dream. "I'll order it, Mrs. Barnes." She already knew what you wanted and where you wanted it from, so it was only a matter of time until your well deserved meal came.

You watched TV in the living room until a knock at the door came. You got up fast, excited for your cheesy goodness.

You opened the door and there the pizza man was, standing almost 6 feet away from the door due to the guards armed with guns. You walked over to the man with a smile. "Y/n?" You nodded your head.

The pizza man gave you the pizza. "Thank you, here's the tip." $20 tip? The pizza man almost cried in happiness.

You smiled at him and went back in the house, ready to eat, but as you closed the door, the sound guards talking caught your attention.

"My god, did you see Barnes' girl? Her stomach is huge." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why were they talking about your stomach? "I mean, she is pregnant, but those stretch marks are ugly." You looked at the bottom of your stomach and saw stretch marks.

A frown came upon your lips, as you rubbed them. "They're not that bad, are they?" You questioned yourself. You started to overthink about everything. Has Bucky always felt this way about them?

You don't know why, but you felt tears come to your eyes. "Usually stretch marks are fine, but why do they look like that? Her body is so chubby." One of the guards pointed out.

"It's probably because she's eating so damn much." Another one added. The whole group began laughing, still making faint comments about your stomach.

The tears finally fell, a sob racking from your throat. Mary came around the corner at the sound of your cries, concern laced on her face. "Mrs, Barnes, what's wrong, why are you crying?" She grabbed the pizza box, putting it down on the coffee table, and led you to the couch.

"Alright, calm down. What happened?" You wiped your tears, blaming your stupid hormones for all the crying. "The guards, they were talking about me. They were saying how big my stomach was, and that my stretch marks are ugly." You finished the sentence with a small cry.

Mary looked worried, not knowing what to say or do. This is too much stress on you. "Okay, shhh, it's okay, stop crying, please." Mary hugged you, swaying you side to side.

She was a sweet woman, in her mid 30s. You even looked up to her as a second Mom.

Once your cries calmed down, she let you go. "Please don't tell Bucky about this. He'll go crazy." Mary looked unsure. She didn't want to lie to you, but she has to tell Bucky. "Okay, I won't." You gave her a grateful smile and then went upstairs.

Even though Mary told you she wasn't gonna tell Bucky a thing about what just happened, she knew what had to be done.

-

Bucky opened the door, walking in with a huge smile on his face. He couldn't wait to tell you the news about the trade.

As he walked near the stairs, Mary came out of nowhere with a weird look on her face. "Mr. Barnes, may I speak with you?" Bucky was taken back slightly at the question, but agreed.

Mary went to the kitchen, looking around to make sure no one else was near. "What's going on, Mary? Did something happen today?" Bucky asked, voice getting low.

Mary looked nervous as she spoke. "Actually, yes. Today Mrs. Barnes wanted pizza, so I ordered it for her, but when she went to go get it, she said the guards were talking about her. Apparently, they were talking about her stretch marks and it made her cry."

Bucky could feel himself get angrier at every word that came out of Mary's mouth.

Did he just hear that right?

His guards, the men who are supposed to protect his family, are body shaming, and making his wife cry? He's not gonna let that slide.

Mary saw how his eyes darkened and quickly tried reasoning with him. "Mr. Barnes, she made me promise her not to tell you, please don't do anything bad!" Bucky stared at Mary, not saying anything, but she knew that meant he was gonna do the opposite.

Bucky could feel all his anger rise inside him at the words Mary said. All he heard was 'guards talking about stretch marks' and 'making you cry.'

Bucky didn't say a word as he made his way upstairs to your shared room. He opened the door and saw you standing in front of the mirror, looking at your belly, touching your stretch marks.

He cursed under his breath, walking over behind you. "Doll, I need you to come with me." You jumped at his deep voice in your ear, spinning around to look at him.

"H-Hey, Buck, didn't know you'd be home so early." Bucky ignored you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the steps, with slow movements, of course.

"Bucky, where are you taking me? Baby?" You kept asking, but Bucky ignored you. He kept walking down the stairs until y'all reached the living room and put you in front of the window.

"Stand here and watch." He opened it, walking down the expensive looking driveway that was littered in beautiful flowers that you planted.

You looked confused as to why he was out there. "Bucky, what are you doing?" You asked him through the window. "Who said it?" He asked, causing the men to look puzzled as well.

What was he talking about? "Said what, Buck?" You asked him. Bucky looked at you and that's when you saw it. His eyes were dark, the sparkle he usually has in them now gone.

“Who was talking about my wife's stretch marks?" Your eyes grew wide, realizing what this is about. Mary most definitely told him about everything.

It was silent as his men looked scared, knowing everyone was responsible for the jokes. Bucky's tongue poked through his cheek, shaking his head in acceptance that no one was gonna speak.

“So nobody wants to talk, huh?" Again, it was quiet until Bucky's hand reached down to his waist. You didn't have enough time to react as he pulled his gun out, shooting the nearest guard. He fell to the floor, the other men letting out a terrified scream.

Bucky whipped around, looking at all his scared men. "Anyone wanna speak now? Tell me, who was making fun of my wife!" He demanded.

Your face was covered in shock, at the scene in front of you. "Bucky, stop! Why are you killing them?!" You yelled out the window. All you could do was talk. You wouldn’t dare go out there with him, especially with what he's doing.

“Because they made you cry and nobody makes you cry.” You sighed, knowing you can’t stop him. All you can do is watch. “Speak up, now!” Another shot rang through the air as another one of Bucky’s men fell to his death.

His men began crying like babies, like actually babies, tears spilling from their eyes as they begged. “Mr. Barnes, Sir, please stop, we didn’t-” Bucky didn't let the man finish as he shot him. “Are you trying to lie to me right now, huh?” He screamed at the dead man’s body.

Bucky began going on a rampage, shooting all the men, no matter if they said anything about you, or not.

He was just pissed that they were lying to him because he knows you wouldn’t just be crying over nothing like that. Especially after he caught you looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You’re all a bunch of cowards! Making fun of my wife when she’s carrying my baby. Now tell me, who was talking about her!” Bucky screamed, veins almost popping out his head.

It was then when half of his men were on the ground, bleeding out their heads when the last man spoke up. “It was me sir! A-All I said was her stretch marks were u-ugly and that-”

The man didn’t say another word after ‘ugly’ due to Bucky shooting him. He looked down at the man, even going for the over kill, shooting his body repeatedly.

He finally felt like the man was dead enough as got up, running a hand through his now disheveled hair.

He turned to the door and saw the group of maids with the look of horror on their faces. “One of y’all call Steve or Sam to clean this shit up, and get me new guards!” He ordered the maids.

Bucky then looked at you, his whole body softening at the sight of you. He slowly walked over to you, holding his hand out. “C’mere, doll, let’s go upstairs.” You hesitantly took his hand, letting him guide you back upstairs and into your shared room.

He walked you over to the mirror, gently pulling the shirt that was getting too small for your stomach, from over your head, leaving you in nothing.

He stood behind you, cupping your huge bump, his soft hands gliding across your marks. “Doll.” He called, but you avoided his eyes. “Baby, look at me.” He repeated, causing you to finally look at him.

"No matter how many stretch marks you have, or how big they are, you're still my beautiful girl, okay?" You nodded your head, wiping the tears that threatened to fall.

After your daughter was born, the new guards were made sure to NEVER talk about your body, no matter how it looked.

[carlossainzwho]

do you get deja vu?

yep, it's part two time!

pairing/s: carlos sainz x ex!reader

warnings - swearing, not proof-read (sorry to my english teachers) and sexual references. (i sound like netflix help)

note - i'm really sorry you've had to wait so long for a fic!! this is part two, you can read part 1 for a little more background before reading this one. i really hope you enjoy! please reblog/like for support, it really makes me smile!!

car rides to malibu strawberry ice cream one spoon for two and trading jackets laughing 'bout how small it looks on you (ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

long long car journeys with carlos were the best, blasting out billie joe and queen all day, all night.

going to the same ice cream shop in mallorca

to get the classic ice cream

strawberry

with chocolate sauce

stuffing it all in carlos' face

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

feeling cold

wind blowing

exchanging your denim jacket for carlos' much thicker one

he looked funny

and handsome

and

he was hers, she was his

oh, ain't it funny

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

watching reruns of glee being annoying singing in harmony i bet she's bragging to all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm

glee

making fun of his name

carlos science, carlos heinz tomato ketchup

singing 'smooth operator' till your throat hurt

but now rebecca's the one doing it with him

tight black dresses

at clubs

getting drunk

leads to

making out

leads to

the bed

So when you gonna tell her That we did that, too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?

no amount of

kissing her

hugging her

fucking her

could change how he felt in his head

he knew

carlos knew

he did all that with y/n

with rebecca snoring by his side

he knew that the jackets

the singing

glee

he did it all before

with

someone

else

Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type

rebecca, y/n

rebecca.

y/n.

they both had kind of similar accents

search her up

rebecca donaldson: model, actress and carlos sainz's new girlfriend!

y/n was nothing

she meant nothing to carlos

I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her "Uptown Girl" You're singing it together Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse

how many more times should she say

how much she missed him?

through the singing

crying

laughing

he was there by her side

but now y/n knew

that carlos was singing and crying and laughing with someone else

Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit, too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused) Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new

y/n drove past mallorca

past the same ice-cream shop

that sold the strawberry ice-cream

the wind blowing

clutching onto her denim jacket

the one that would never fit carlos

now he's doing all that with someone else

but she doesn't know

that

it was all y/n

and now

he probably seemed funny

and handsome

not long ago

he was hers

she was his

but not anymore

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

taglist: @styles-sunflower @marsinout @queers-of-marybelltownship @alonsogirlie @hoeforevery1 @charlosgoggles @albonsluvr

hope you loved it! so sorry it took long :(

[roseglazedlens]

i love that new bubble tea fic how did u know i was craving some - what do you think leon's and rebecca's bubble tea order would be?

-🍫

⦑ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⦒ [ part one ]

read part two here (ethan winters, jill valentine, jack krauser, claire redfield) read the 'boba tea date' fic here (leon kennedy x gn! reader) characters: leon kennedy, rebecca chambers, chris redfield, ashley graham, carlos oliveira & ada wong a/n: funny you asked, because i had a convo ab this with my friend hahha! also added some other characters too ;) what other characters should i do? content: SFW

LEON KENNEDY

Ever since that date, he sneaks off when you're not around to try all the flavours.

He would be a sweet tooth (despite how passionately he will deny this), and orders the limited edition seasaonal tea with extra foam on top! Always 100% ice and sugar.

He's a closet sweet-tooth (especially RE2 Leon, he looks like he pretends to like coffee, inspired by this)

When you find an empty cup in the bin, he will act nonchalant and say "Oh I happen to pass by for work".

But you already know he's lying when you found a membership card in the frontest pocket of his wallet - probably eligible for a few free drinks at this point.

REBECCA CHAMBERS

Caramel milk tea with pudding. Extra sugar and standard ice.

She likes sugar, and she's not afraid to admit it!

Always get the large size since she works long hours in the lab, so she sips away her drink throughout her shift.

Probably hyped up the shop to all her colleagues already, hoping to find a companion to join her.

Very close with the shop manager since she goes there daily - will chat and banter with them

CHRIS REDFIELD

He would just get plain black tea, no sugar and less ice.

To keep up with his physique and body fat percentage low, he doesn't usually drink unless you drag him there.

Raves on about the antioxidants in black tea and how it's good for you (such a health nerd)

Starts complaining 'it's too sweet' everytime he sips on any of your drinks - apparently even a hint of sugar is too much for this old man sometimes.

ASHLEY GRAHAM

Matcha with fresh milk, extra sugar, cream on top, and mini pearls!

I think she will start drinking mango fruit tea/fruity with popping pearls but eventually branches out to matcha.

She probably thought of doing a bottomless bubble tea stand for her dream wedding ceremony.

I think she would get along with Rebecca with their mutual love for bubble tea! I think they'll be such good friends if not their age differences!

CARLOS OLIVEIRA

Normally, Carlos orders a very normal coconut green tea with no modifications.

Until one day he decides to be really cheeky and order it with every topping the shop has to offer

Rainbow jelly, pearls, pudding, grass jelly, etc. (yes, even red beans)

So many toppings that only half of the cup is liquid and the other half is a concoction of chaos

Bobarista is terrified, but Carlos is grinning widely

Still inhales the whole drink in less than an hour anyway

ADA WONG

She will go for a warm brewed tea (thinking between oolong or earl grey), no toppings or sugar.

Don't think she enjoys iced drinks in general, rather have warm/hot drinks or just plain water.

Something in the bubble tea gives her acne breakouts so she avoids it. Plus her job is so busy that it doesn't allow her such luxuries.

Might indulge in extra sugar if she wants a treat, but suffers the consequences later.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost @femnedy @emilzke (not sure people tag for headcanons? but here it is anyway xd) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[junikicker]

Lightning. Thunder. - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

Lightning. Thunder. - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

warnings: love confession, alcohol

note: this was so fucking fun to write I can't- btw am I the only one who thinks if I wrote it a bit different, it would have turned into a poetry slam? yeah whatever. here you go folks.

It hurt a lot when you and Rebecca broke things off. The breakup had been mutual but that didn’t mean it hurt less than one where you are broken up with. If you were being honest, you still weren’t over her after half a year. You had distanced yourself from her as good as possible. You asked Keeley if you could work at the office more rather than at Nelson Road and she agreed. You had rarely seen Rebecca since you broke things off. But you missed her. It was like a piece of you was missing.

You sat at the window, a glass of wine in one and a book in the other. The yellowish light of the lamp on the other side of the room set a comfortable and cozy atmosphere as you set the book down and watched the rain hammering against the window and fall down onto the dark street that was only illuminated by one lonely lamp post about twenty meters from your front door. You sighed. The rain. You loved it. It made you calm. The sound relaxed you. There was thunder rumbling in the distance...

A lightning bolt.

Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-Thunder. Barely a kilometer away now.

You downed the rest of the red liquid in your glass before reaching for the bottle again. You didn’t dare touch the bottle to your lips. No. You thought. The glass. More elegant. You reminded yourself.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or just your mindset today that had you reminiscing about your time with Rebecca. It felt like yesterday that you were sitting in front of this exact window. Her lounging between your legs and you braiding her hair. There was no make-up, no high heels – not that she wouldn’t have been taller than you either way – no pencil skirts, no pantsuits, no ties, no dresses. Just you, Rebecca, a bottle of red and… white silk robes.

You remembered the feeling of her soft skin under your fingertips, the way that, when your lips connected, the whole world faded out of existence.

You remembered how you laughed together. Watching rom-coms the whole night and her always mouthing the lines like she had never watched anything else. You had loved to observe her. Not in a creepy way, but in a loving way. Many times you had held her, tears streaming down her face when she had encountered Rupert once again.

You sighed. How could it all have gone so terribly wrong. What even went wrong. Was it just the wrong person at the right time. Or maybe right person, wrong time.

Right person, wrong time. You decided. Sounds a lot better. It made you think that, in another life, we may have had a chance.

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Thunder.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly. You had finished the third glass now. I should stop. You thought, getting up, placing the empty glass onto the coffee table in your living room.

I need to clear my head. You thought, placing the green wine bottle back into the fridge. You closed the fridge. There it was again. The picture of you and Rebecca that you couldn’t get yourself to put away. She looked so happy. She had this ability, you thought, that her smile could light up an entire room. No matter how big it was, no matter how many people were in it. She always managed to light up the room with a simple smile.

You walked over the dark oak tiles on the floor of your apartment. It squeaked under your feet as you sat down on the chair next to the door and reached for your shoes. You laced up the black boots. They looked worn out. You had been wearing them for as long as you could remember. You remembered how hard it had been to break them in. Took me almost a damn year. You chuckled to yourself. That was, of course, only a lie you told yourself, not wanting to admit that they were your favorite and important to you.

You reached for your keys in the key bowl. The metal was cold. You reached for your leather jacket on the golden coat rag. That one had been a present from your best friend. Felix. You smiled at the reminder. What would I do without you, pal?

The jacket was almost as worn out as the boots. The color had faded from the deep black it once had into a washed-out, very dark grey. In an attempt to have it live longer, you had patched it up. Where it had been torn on your shoulder, there now shone a large Richmond logo and on the back there was Superman’s symbol.

Superman. You shook your head. Why can’t I just have my Lois Lane? Or do I need fucking superpowers for that?

You closed the door to your apartment. The color of it mismatched the dark oak on the floor. It bothered you, but you never attempted to change it. The door fell into lock and you looked up. Silver. 7. Ironically enough, it had become your favorite number. Something about the number seven seemed satisfying to you. Even numbers didn’t do it for you. Five seemed such a boring number and-

Thunder.

One and nine were just boring. You also liked the number three. Three and seven. You thought. Imperfections that, if added to one another still manage to be perfect. You locked the door.

The rain was pouring as you stepped out of the building. You looked at the lamp post. The darkness had almost swallowed the black-painted lamp now, only the light visible. The rain hit your head and for a second you thought to go back up for an umbrella and then decided against it. You weren’t made of sugar, were you?

You looked at the poorly lit street. A smile made its way to your face. That was where you had first kissed.

She had brought you home after a night out with her and Keeley. It was as dark as it was this night. The lamppost was present as it had always been since you had moved in. Her dress was blue, her heels black and her eyes were the perfect emerald green, and her perfume… intoxicating.

You felt the uneven bricks of the road under your feet as you walked, the thin rubber on the bottom of your shoes made you feel every little stick and stone.

Your hair was wet by the time you had crossed Duke Street and the water was starting to get past the thin leather of your jacket and you could feel your toes starting to get wet. You walked faster, not caring where you went, so lost in your racing thoughts. Racing thoughts about Rebecca. Racing thoughts about her eyes, her laugh, her voice-

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-. Thunder. -three.

Racing thoughts about her…

Paved Court, King Street. Old Palace Place. Lightning. Friars Lane. Thunder. Friars Lane. Friars Lane… Friars Lane.

One. Two. Lightning. Thunder. Three.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you had reached the front door and knocked against the dark wood.

Your hair was sticking to your face, your clothes hung off your body like a bag. Your feet were now entirely wet, and your back was soon to be as well. You stared at the golden number. Gold. Silver. Three. Seven. Lightning. Thunder.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it would jump out of your chest when the sound of the thunder rumbled away over you and pulled you out of the trance you had been in since you left your flat.

Your bones ached, and your unsteady and heavy breathing told you that you had hurried on your way to her door, probably even started running at some point. The lights turned on in the hallway. Another Lightning bolt. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Thunder. The words ‘What the hell’ muttered under a breath but to be heard through the door.

Keys rustling, silence, a key turning, unlocking the door. Cold metal. Like the keys in your hand were when you left. Lightning. Twenty-one. The door opens. Twenty-two. Thunder.

Her hard eyes softened the moment her eyes found yours. The softness you had longed to see again for what felt like eternity times two.

Your back was now wet as well, you weren’t sure whether the water on your face was tears or rain but it could just as well have been both. Her hair was dry, not up the way you used to remember seeing her when you had to see her for work but down. Down the way she used to wear it when you were at home. Down the way she had it when you were in bed. Her face was nude of make-up. The lack of heels and pencil skirt had something comforting, something that made it all easier.

“Y/n...” Rebecca broke the silence. Her eyes were still on yours but showing everything and nothing at once. You had a hard time reading her expression. “Becca.” You replied, feeling water run down your spine.

“Did you- did you walk all the way here?!” She asked and rushed forward to pull you under the roof so that you wouldn’t get any wetter. You nodded.

“I miss you, Rebecca. And I know this is shitty and I know we ended this. Above all that we did fucking six months, twenty-one days, and seven hours ago. But I just fucking miss you! And I know this all is insane. I know you have a thing going on with Sam and I wish you the best but. I just need you to know that I miss you.” You rushed over the words, barely comprehending what left your mouth yourself as you continue to ramble on.

“I miss you, Becca. And believe it or not… I still love you.”

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-. Her lips on yours, igniting a fire in your soul that you have never felt this strong. Thunder.

Rebecca’s lips moved against yours in the familiar way that you had learned to cherish. There it was again. Her signature scent, suddenly as intoxicating as it had been the first time you kissed. Her hand on the back of your head, tangled in your hair, you on your tiptoes to match her height.

Lightning. “I still love you too.” Thunder.