#the synonym threw me

[lifblogs]

Obviously that person is being helpful and isn’t going to know what I know and don’t know or what I remembered, but I legit know this stuff, so it feels like I’m getting talked down to.

[b4kuch1n]

3 and 21, if you still wanna :3

oh boy do I! ask game here!

3. What ideas come from when you were little

gods I need to remember what I drew when I was a kid... turns out I've always been interested in messing around with crayons n stuff! according to my mom bc I don't remember any of that at all. the only thing I remember abt drawing as a kid is 4yo me in my kindergarten class drawing a person portrait with only black brown and red for colors because all the other crayons were snatched up by the rest of the class. the teachers were debating putting my drawing on the wall at all bc of how shitty it was lmao. in the end they still put it up but in a far corner where u have to really look for it to find it. garbage but extremely funny thing to do to a 4yo I feel

but yeah I was basically a battery-powered animal of malice as a child lol. I actually didn't commit to drawing as the Thing I do until I was, like, 15yo? so most of what I started with were like, cardcaptor sakura and detective conan fanart. not a lot of connective tissue in there visual-wise. to my own recollection I don't have a "childhood dream" of being an artist or an art vision I deperately want to realise every since I was a babe whatever, I was just extremely bad at making shapes by conventional standard until I started liking very specific things and couldn't find enough of those things out in the wild, and then I started experimenting in my backyard. it's all very mundane and trivial like that, but I'm only some guy afterall

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

uncle mod's TPOH I feel like is about as diametrically opposite of my personal styles as possible, but I think it slaps and I love looking at it. I also used to really love yuumei's art and still enjoy it now, even though craft-wise I detest doing that kind of glass-like "anime graphic" so to say rendering. anything hyperrealistic is also definitely outside of my wheelhouse, but when used to do more whimsical stuff I am a big fan of it, like with sun yuan & peng yu's "Fallen Angel" and "Teenager, teenager". I'm a fan of miku! and like 80% of her official visuals are things I would never want to draw myself in a thousand years! I like a lot of art and do very specific, if random, things.

[randomnameless]

Isn't norm synonymous to status quo? If Byleth does not accept status quo/norm, then she is actually complaining about True Piss where war is the norm/status quo.

I understand norm as something like a rule or a "natural state of things".

So yes, your reading could also work, but the way it is worded is really odd in the global text

"We cannot accept the status quo. War cannot be the norm."

The usage of the dot here is ambiguous enough to make one wonder if those two sentences are really meant to be connected, if they put a comma instead it would be clearer?

It is also odd, because if someone is talking about the "status quo", you'd think they're talking about the actual/existing "state of things".

Even if this Billy is from the non Tru Piss routes, before the timeskip, why would she think that War, while being the "existing state of things" as status quo, is the Norm, aka the "natural state of things"?

If status quo really means norm, Billy first says they cannot accept "the norm" and War cannot be "the norm", so what is even the "norm" bar, not being War?

IMO, the way those sentences are written (and phrased) it bends towards a "Status Quo Bad, War Bad" reading

Jp!Billy, from what I understood, says something like a world where War is the norm sucks, i.e. where war is the "natural way of things" sucks. But they make no mention about the "existing way of things", or the status quo.

[fyodere]

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

[leviscolwill]

bad idea right ?

pairing: ex!jude bellingham x fem!reader

genre: girl making bad decisions, suggestive (no actual smut tho)

warnings: possibility of questionable grammar, a bit toxic sorryyyy

summary: meeting up with your ex after one too many drinks, what could possibly go wrong ? (wc: 1,2k)

note: based on olivia rodrigo's song,, it's just so good i had to 😪

now playing: bad idea right ? by olivia rodrigo (guts)

you did a good job at ignoring jude's constant calls and messages up til then, you really did. but the few shots you downed threw all these efforts away.

it was over, and you knew it when you replied asking for his new address that he sent you almost instantly, also adding a little "already ordered a uber for you :)"

"i need to go"

you knew your friends would kill you if you told them where you were actually going, so you kept that part to yourself.

"what happened ?"

"something came up, my roommate needs me home like right now."

"nothing bad right ?" you could feel a bit of worry in your best friend's tone so you tried to reassure her.

"nothing too bad, our washing machine is just acting up" you surprised yourself with your newfound ability to come up with lies so easily.

but no, it was truly nothing too bad, just about to meet up with my ex you guys hate.

there was a small part of you that wanted to tell them where you were actually going so they would convince you not to, but a bigger part wanted nothing more than to be at jude's right now.

after hugging your friends goodbye and hopping on the uber, you still had to fight a mental battle against the part of your brain that was still somewhat rational about this whole situation.

nothing good would come out of you meeting up with him, and deep down you knew it, you'd fall head over heels for jude again after you did such a good job at pretending to forget about him.

but at the same time, maybe you read the signs wrong, maybe he just wanted to catch up and nothing more. and there was nothing wrong with being friends with your ex, matter of fact, a few of your friends were still friends with their exes and it was never a synonym of a bad idea.

you were still debating whether or not seeing jude was a bad idea when you felt the car come to a stop.

you hopped out of it and jude opened his door right after like he'd been waiting for you for a while. he had his stupid smirk attached to his face, like he knew you would come back eventually. his attitude would have irked you, but in this very moment you didn't care, you walked in front of his door with a smile on your face and stars in your eyes.

jude wasted no time with greetings and let you in his living room while he went to his kitchen.

when he came back he was holding two glasses of water and he handed you one.

"i figured you might need a bit of water after tonight" he said with a tentative smile.

he was right, in a way, except you were pretty much sober by now and fully aware of where you were and the possible consequences of your actions. you thanked him and took a sip looking at your knees from the way he watched you intently.

you heard him chuckle and looked up at him.

"why did you want to meet up ?" you asked finally breaking the silence full of tension.

"i just don't like the way things ended between us." you rolled your eyes at this, it didn't have to be this way, but jude decided to break up with you and found a new girl a bit too fast for your liking, making things awkward after your breakup.

but he kept talking. "i know i haven't been the best boyfriend but i really want to fix things between us." the look he gave you made you weak in the knees, he grabbed the hand that sat on your thigh and started stroking his thumb on its back. "we can just take things slowly, one step at a time".

but you didn't want to take things slow, and neither did jude. there was no doubt left, it was wrong and you'll always end up hurt. and you believed jude could read your mind by the way his gaze changed, like he could tell that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. in this very moment you didn't care if it didn't last once again, you needed to have him for a night, a week, a month... it truly didn't matter.

jude tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you felt his breath closer to your face, exactly what you wanted.

when you felt his lips against yours, you forgot to kiss him back for half a second as your mind started running laps. but when you kissed him back you poured out all those months of pent up frustration from ignoring him and his stupid texts. he grabbed your jaw deepening the kiss and you could feel jude's smile against your mouth when your hands wandered down his chest to his abs.

his mouth trailed down your neck where he started kissing at your skin while you gave him more space to do so, he took the opportunity to lick and bite your sweet spot, the action making you whine in return. you knew by the way he was sucking at your skin that it would leave a mark but your lucidity was long forgotten at this point, you would deal with this mess in the morning.

just as he started unzipping your dress, jude asked "do you really want this ?" with a yearning tone. you nodded fervently, hoping for him to give you something more. but instead he stopped kissing your sweet spot, much to your dismay. you looked up at him with confused eyes. "i need words princess, do you want this ?". of course he wanted to tease you as much as he could, but you didn't feel anything but desire so you simply complied. "i want this, i want you... jude please".

you could feel jude's look change after your words as he took your hand to lead you to his bedroom, both of you no longer caring about the intangible line between right and wrong, only needing to feel each other like you used to.

-

"is your roommate the one responsible for this ?" you didn't look where your friend was pointing, because you didn't need to. she was talking about the obvious purplish mark on your neck that even concealer couldn't hide away.

"no i just... spent the night at someone's." you felt your cheeks reddening by the minute thinking back to the night you spent at jude's after leaving your friends. you didn't even fully regret it, because as much as this idea sounded terrible you had a good time and your hopes were up once again that things might have changed.

"do i know who ?" you already knew she'd ask this question but you still couldn't find a believable lie so you just looked at your shoes that seemed like the most interesting thing on earth right now.

"no."

yes.

"no, don't tell me you spent the night with him."

but you did, and she could most definitely tell.

"i didn't mean to, i just tripped and fell into his bed i swear."

i'm always looking for new ways to improve my writing !! feel free to leave some feedback xx

[pineapplerightsideupcake]

Nobody is saying that aro/ace people are gay, we're saying that they're queer. And why are you so hung up on calling them straight men? Women can be aromantic or asexual, too. And not all aro/ace people are straight. You can be aromantic and lesbian or gay or bi, and the same thing applies with asexuality

And neither of them is just a lack of commitment. They're lacks of sexual or romantic attraction

You people made “queer” and “gay” synonymous. You decided for same sex attracted people we were now annexed into YOUR movement, and that having our own was bigotry. Then you threw open the gates to our oppressors and have Target and Wells Fargo calling us a slur on social media. Universities offer “queer studies”. Fuck you forever for that.

So let me say this slowly: no one gives a fuck if you don’t have sex or date. NO ONE. This is an invented oppression that you wave around for attention and then when your community is criticized for your actions from my first paragraph your turn around and pretend I have a problem with you not dating. I couldn’t care less if you fuck. I don’t give a single solitary shit if you in your endless solipsistic musings feel “romantic love”.

Straight women that don’t have sex or date are just straight women. A lesbian that doesn’t have sex or date is just a lesbian. But pretending that men claiming to only want to have sex with but not love women is the same thing is ignoring thousands of years of context that men have historically seen women as less than human.

You don’t get to dodge accountability by pretending the anger directed at you is because people are just THAT angry you don’t fuck.

The reason we’re angry is because you invaded our space, convinced the world to call us a slur, invited in our oppressors, and told us we aren’t allowed to leave or even complain.

[darling-i-read-it]

Whispers

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, literally i think tahts it 

Author’s Note: In theory this is a part 2 to blue paint but honestly could be written by itself if you just squint lol. Everyone wanted me to write more for dalton and i was at WORK people but i am here to provide a plotless fluff. An old classic style of mine 🫡Also this fic could literally be called ‘maya googles whispered synonyms’ 

Everyone that asked to be tagged <3 : @geeksareunique, @chaoticxbee, @snixx2088, @ellaneyt, @bespinnn, 

Summary: The night you and Dalton just kind of let your relationship silently grow to avoid the horror of his situation. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You could feel sleep starting to overtake you. It was in your eyes, the drooping of your lids as you sat against the twin bed. Dalton was sitting on the ground as well, across from you. You narrowed your gaze at him, pursing your lips. You both had class in the morning. He still had blue paint stained on his face. You had leaned him over the sink and scrubbed to no avail. Finally you had both given up, conceding to his embarrassment in the morning. 

The sticky heat of the day had given way for the night chills. You could feel the difference in the cracked window. The breeze had started to get to you so you threw a blanket over your shoulders. 

Dalton, not wanting to fall asleep, sat across from you with a hoodie on. 

“Uno.” 

“No way,” you muttered. You looked at the cards in front of you, a large stack turned upwards and a yellow 7 card on top. “You just had like 15 cards. Take off your hoodie.”

“No!” Dalton exclaimed, laughing a bit. 

“You’re cheating. There’s no way I missed that. I’m literally the only other person here,” you offered. He shook his head. The clock was ticking away past midnight. 

“It’s late, you’re just starting to get delirious.” You shook your head, tossing your stack of cards down beside you. Usually you would never let a game go, especially one that was decently close. But you weren’t sure if you were even going to wake up to your alarm in the morning, let alone go to class. 

“Am not.” 

“I told you to go to bed hours ago.”

“Didn’t want you to sleepwalk on me,” you muttered. 

“Astral project.” 

“Whatever.” You looked up at the window. You could see the moon outside tonight in the clear sky. It had been a while since you saw the nighttime in a peaceful way. You were so used to being passed out by the time any kind of sereneness came along, or at a party trying not to pass out. It had been too long since it was just you and the night sky. And Dalton. 

Your phones were laying on the bedside table, out of the way and silent. You told Dalton to call his mom but he refused. He said he could do it on his own. He was probably just overreacting, he promised you. Overreacting didn’t make someone stay up late before an 8:30 class but you decided not to mention that. 

“I think I’m out D,” you muttered through a yawn. He nodded. He still looked wide awake, sans the bags under his eyes. 

“I wish we had a TV in here.” 

“Then we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street,” you joked. He half smiled, one of his cute little smirks. When you came to college you never thought you would admire these quieter nights the most. 

“Yeah.” You stretched, trying to shake the sleep out of your eyes. 

“I think I’m still gonna try to go to class tomorrow.”

“You know I don’t have a choice.” You nodded once and stood up, stretching. You felt your body expand as a satisfying calmness came over your body. Dalton grabbed the uno cards at your feet and started to put them in the box. “My last card was red by the way. You could’ve won it.” 

“Rematch tomorrow,” you suggested. You put your blanket over the empty bed. It looked like it hadn’t been slept in. There was no indent of a human having been there, no one having a good night's sleep. Though it didn’t look exactly comforting, it also didn’t look unappealing to your tired mind. Dalton had given you one of his pillows. You plugged in your phone beside you and glanced over at Dalton’s side of the room. You had looked at his drawings before but never studied them. 

Things seemed clearer at night. 

There was a picture of his mom at the piano above his pillow. He was moving around, shuffling, getting ready for bed and doing the last things he needed to. His head obscured your view. 

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Your mom.” He looked at his sketch like he had forgotten it was there. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. His eyes lingered for a moment. You wanted to ask if he missed her but you didn’t. Putting him in that sort of emotional position would’ve been too much for so late. “She writes music. I remember when I was a kid she would sit at the piano when she had a moment to herself. My dad was always working so I guess I thought it was her job.” He shrugged. His eyes moved away.

“She sounds like a nice lady.” 

“She is. She deserves better than that guy,” he grumbled. He sat down on his bed. You were still sitting on yours. You hadn’t climbed under the covers, even though the cold was nipping at your arms. Chris’s words lingered in your brain for a bit, the prospect of staying in the same twin bed. You shook it off and went to grab the edge of the blanket. 

Dalton’s eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to go to bed yet. 

“Do you mind the night light?” he asked, voice laced with exhaustion and a little embarrassment. 

“Nope. I like a little mood lighting.” You climbed under the covers. Once your head hit in the pillow it was like relief flooded through your bones. You reached up and turned off the lamp beside the bed. You could still see the outline of Dalton. His face, his hair. “I like your hair when it’s down,” you whispered. Your voice was gentle, slightly fueled by the lack of sleep. You could see him turn to look at you as he was getting under the covers. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, awkwardly. You smiled. You liked it when he squirmed a little bit. 

“I set an alarm.” 

“Okay.” There was a silence. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Dalton,” you whispered. Your name hung on his lips but he didn’t say it out loud. Instead he just watched as your eyes shut into an even calmness. The contours of your face were illuminated by his night light.

He rested his cheek against the pillow. 

He admitted to being potentially dangerous to you and you stayed. He felt safer with you. Like he wasn’t in this alone. 

You fell asleep in 15 minutes. He could tell because your face was completely relaxed. There was no tenseness in your features, no worries about anything except getting rest. When he was positive you had drifted off he sat up, grabbing his sketchbook off the center table. 

He had drawn nothing but dark memories lately. A red door with blood haunted him. A face he didn’t recognize but one that he knew, watched him sleep. After the darkness flooding his brain he was happy to think of his mom. He was happy to remember her when she was tranquil. He liked the sketches that were less cursed. 

He started to sketch you. 

His eyes adjusted to the darkness easily. Maybe if he was super tired the next night then he wouldn't be able to dream or astral project. Just sleep. He wouldn’t mind spending tonight sketching you with observing eyes. He drew your hair as it fell in front of your face. The way your fingers gripped the blanket. Your eyes, fluttering with dreams. He wondered what you were dreaming of. He wondered if you ever dreamt of him. 

Just the thought brought a redness to his cheeks. 

He grabbed his airpod to put on some music. 

The room was so still. 

Your blanket touching the ground. The wind from the cracked window. Your even breathing, mixing with his, the only living sounds in the space. His dried paint on the table. The light from the hallway seeping in under the door. His unpacked bag at the foot of your bed. 

Your bed. That wasn’t your bed. That was an empty bed, one that would be filled by anybody. 

He sketched your nose. 

That could be your bed. He had nothing against that. A sleepover every night, a buddy to help protect him from the nightmares. He thought of his parents. His brother. His little sister. He was safe. 

He turned the focus onto your closed eyes. He was listening to some indie rock or something, whatever he had playing from earlier. He wondered what kind of music you listened to. 

You moved. You hummed under your breath, eyes fluttering open. It hadn’t been that long since you fell asleep, maybe only an hour. It was two in the morning.

You forced your eyes open. Dalton was still awake, sitting against the wall. 

“Still can’t sleep?” you whispered. The sleep remained in your eyes. 

“Not sure where I’ll float too.” You nodded. You slowly sat up, keeping your blanket around your shoulder. “What’re you doing?” he whispered. Speaking any louder would break the muffled moment. 

You shuffled over to his side of the room. He looked up at you, shielding his sketchbook. You barely noticed it. You stood at the side of his bed. There was a beat where neither of you moved. You nodded towards the bed. 

“Lay down.” He squinted, unsure of what your intentions were. He put the sketchbook on the side of the bed, onto the floor. He had it facing the ground so you wouldn’t see your face. He couldn’t let you know how he perceived you quite yet. 

He did as he was told. When he was comfortable you moved his blanket aside and got under the covers. You put your blanket over his so you had double the warmth. 

Dalton froze. 

Did he put his hand on you? Did he just let you be? He had to touch you, there was no way he could sleep here, stiff as a board, all night. 

“I don’t have cooties D,” you whispered. You easily got comfortable beside him. Your eyes stayed open as you looked at him, straight ahead. “You can touch me,” you said, even lower, so much so that your voice almost gave out. “If this is okay.” 

“It’s okay,” he promised. You smiled sleepily. 

He put his hand on your side and you pushed yourself closer to him. You took the initiative and placed your hand over his waist. He moved so that you could nuzzle yourself into his chest. He tried not to breathe too heavily but he was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest. 

“Sleep,” you breathed. “I’ll keep you grounded.” 

His breath hitched. He finally closed his eyes. 

He fell asleep quickly with you in his arms. He remained in his spot the whole night, the first time in a week. 

[identitty-dickruption]

kind of frustrating seeing people use “masked autism” and “late diagnosed autism” as synonyms. I had meltdowns where I threw chairs at school up until the age of 15. I got in trouble for wandering off all the time, to the point that adults in my life would frequently joke about putting me on a leash. I had more days off school than any other kid I knew. I was bullied no matter how many times I changed schools. I got diagnosed when I was 18 years old

now, I was privileged in that I had a little more stability in later high school, and a couple of very dedicated teachers helped me to be better at school. I’m still privileged in that I’m now at university and looking to have a career in academia. I still can’t mask super well, but life has certainly started to get a little easier for me. that is absolutely not the case for everyone

being diagnosed as a child can be a kind of violence, in that a diagnosed child is vulnerable to particular kinds of abuse. being undiagnosed as a child has people feeling like they’re fundamentally broken for no reason. but there’s an overlap between those two things, and it doesn’t help anyone to act like the only reason a child could go undiagnosed is because they learn to mask. it’s way more complex than that

[chloessleepystories]

We have storms hitting both the east coast and west coast. Could we get a story about storms changing people on a rainy day leading to some steamy nights?

The buzz was insistent, a double, triple buzz. Jeremy hit the button to unlock the front door and a moment later heard her pounding steps coming up the stairs.

“Jesus look at you, you’re soaked!”

Candace was drenched, but smiling, as she crossed the threshold of his apartment. “Whaaat? It’s just a little rain,” she grinned.

He laughed. “You’re an idiot. Let me get a towel.”

She peeled off her sopping sweater as he called from the bathroom, “You know we could have just done this another night.”

“Are you nuts?” she called back. “It’s already hard enough to avoid spoilers online, I’m going to wait another 24 hours before catching up on Ahsoka?”

“Here, try this.” Jeremy was holding out one towel as he threw another on the floor at her feet. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Well if you would just share your password like a normal person, I could watch it at my house.” She squeezed the towel around her long hair, then tried to pat dry her skirt.

“I would if I could!” he protested. “You know they’re all cracking down on that shit.” He led the way into his cozy living room. “Anyway, I like sharing it with you.”

“I know. I like coming over here too.” She smiled shyly. He smiled too. After a moment, she looked away. “It’s a … It’s a good thing our apartments are so close together.”

“You mean you walked over here?”

“What?” She was standing by the TV, still dripping everywhere. “It’s just a couple blocks. And it’s a nice warm night.”

“A nice warm night with a freak storm,” Jeremy laughed, reclining on the couch. “You didn’t check the weather forecast before you headed out, huh?”

“Nah. I don’t believe in that stuff, any – ahchoo! - anyway.”

The sneeze didn’t seem that hard, but she swayed dizzily for a moment.

“You don’t believe in … ? What, just a conspiracy of meteorologists, you mean?”

She giggled. “I just mean the forecasts are so often wrong, I don’t even – don’t even – ahchooo!! … Don’t even uh bother … ”

Jeremy stood up, slowly. The first time he thought he was imagining it, but the second time … “Are you feeling all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I coulda sworn, when you sneezed just then, your … your uh …” He gestured to his chest, unable to say ‘breasts,’ or any of the other synonyms that came to mind. “I mean, it’s a pretty thin top, it doesn’t hide much, like …”

She folded her arms, and pouted, a little cuter pout than he had seen her make before. “Jer, you’re actin’ real weird all of a – all of a …”

There was no denying it this time. Her chest bulged as she let out her biggest sneeze yet. Candace was normally flat as a board, but suddenly her soaking wet top was sticking to – well, there was no other word for it – her sizeable tits.

Her eyes crossed for a moment, and she staggered. When she recovered from the explosion, she looked down and gasped. “What the shit are these?” she said, grasping them with both hands. Her voice seemed a little higher than before, more breathy, but there was an edge of panic to it as well.

“I think you’re coming down with something …” Jeremy said, knowing how dumb it sounded.

“Oh, you think?”

“You should probably uh … you should get out of those wet clothes …?”

She giggled, then mock-scowled. “Oh, nice try, buddy, I see what you’re – I see … I … oh shit”

Ah – CHOOO!!

“Ow ow ow!!” Her voice had climbed another octave. “It hurts!! Je-er, help mee!!”

Her tits were straining the buttons on her shirt, and her tiny bra, usually barely needed, was obviously pinching in several places, trying to hold in the unaccustomed mass. He moved toward her.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to – oof!”

She threw her arms around him, held him tight. She pressed her whole, wet body against his, soaking his tee shirt in moments. She was nose to nose. She pushed her bottom lip out and made her eyes big and damp. Jeremy thought she had never looked lovelier. “I need help, please,” she panted.

She was rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Probably by accident. His erection didn’t care. He licked his lips. “Yeah, yeah, let’s uh … let’s get that off. Do you want to go in the uh …”

She stepped back, and ripped open her top in a desperate moment. A button pinged off one of his bookshelves. In a moment, she was showing him more skin than she ever had in all the years of their friendship – her chest heaving, her arms bare, her hair long and flowing (and could it possibly be longer than before?) and her plain-and-simple bra laboring with the effort of holding back the swelling melons.

Jeremy swept a palm across his forehead. Was it getting warm in here? He was wet with sweat. Wet with something – he plucked at his damp tee shirt, which was sticking to him. He rubbed his jean-covered thigh, which was spongy with water too and likewise sticking … like, were his jeans shrinking?

“Now, now listen uh – ”

“Here, here,” she turned around to show him her almost-bare back, and he broke out in sweats again. “I can’t reach it! Can you get it?” He barely registered how high-pitched her voice was now, so distracted by trying to figure out what she was asking. After a moment, it clicked, and he sprang forward to fumble with the clasp of her bra.

As soon as he had it undone, the cups flew off her boobs to land on the carpet two feet away. Her tits, released, sprang out and wobbled around like nothing he had seen outside ridiculous anime porn, as she swung around toward him. She was topless, and he grasped his swelling cock through his jeans. She was topless in his apartment, and she looked like a wet-dream cartoon.

Sounded like one too. “Ohhh!! Thank you thank you!!” she chirped. “That’s sooo much better!!!” Her eyes went to where his hand was kneading his erection, and she licked his lips. “And I know what would make it better still …”

In a moment, she was pressed against him again, her wet jugs soaking his tight tee shirt further. She stripped the shirt off him with flattering haste, catching his ear painfully with the fabric, then ran her hands over his bare chest. “Mmmm … such muscles …”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, fumbled for words. A skinny dork, he’d never considered himself muscled but … he had to agree she was right.

She dragged her boobs down his body, falling to her knees, fumbling with his belt. “I need it, I need it,” she whimpered.

“Candace … Candace, don’t you think we should …”

“Unh uh!” she giggled, shaking her head. “Call me Candi, I think I like that better …”

She jerked down pants and underpants in one movement, and gasped at the erection inches from her face. Her eyes crossed a bit, dazed, and … was she actually drooling, a little?

She swirled her tongue around the helmet, then took a couple inches of the shaft into her mouth. It swelled between her lips, and she looked up at him, his cock in her mouth, and winked.

Candi let the cock out of her mouth with a pop. She held up her heavy melons with both hands and whispered, “I know where this belongs …”

Jeremy’s shaft slid between her swaying funbags, still slick with the storm’s rain and Candi’s sweat, and as she held her tits around it, he began to stroke it up and down against her wet skin. It grew. And grew. And grew, to a length and thickness he absolutely knew it had never possessed before.

And as it did, he felt his brain grow more sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He looked at the bimbo on her knees before him with an animal lust. “Couch. Arm,” he grunted, his voice much lower than usual. “Now.”

She draped herself over the arm of his couch, flipping up her skirt. He snatched the panties off her trembling legs in an instant, and speared her gushing cunt with his thick monster cock. She screamed out in pain and ecstasy …

As the rain came down all over the city. All over thousands of unsuspecting strangers …

An hour later, Candace and Jeremy lay sprawled on his carpet, panting. After a lot more exertion than either was used to, and months’ worth of orgasms crammed into one night, they were finally feeling a little more like themselves.

“What the fuck was that,” Candace said, in something closer to her usual tone of voice. Her breasts were no longer coconut sized, but they were still healthy large apples. Or maybe oranges, thought Jeremy.

Or maybe I’m just hungry.

He had expended a lot of energy, after all.

“I don’t know, but it was amazing, that’s for sure,” he rasped.

“We should uh … ” She sat up, looking around. Where was a glass of water when you needed one. She was powerfully thirsty. “Maybe we should hit the shower? Wash off the rest of it?”

“… Together?” he suggested.

“Why not? I think we’ve broken down that barrier.” She smiled. “You’ve been abusing all my holes for an hour, I think you’ve earned soaping up my bottom.”

Jeremy got slowly to his feet, cricked his neck. He was glad she still wanted to be friends. Maybe … maybe be more than friends. “Or …” he said.

She put out a hand, and he helped her up. “Or?”

He looked to the window, where rain was still spattering the panes.

“Or we could go outside and dance in the rain.”

Candace looked to the window. Her eyes slid to Jeremy’s smile.

And she grinned.

[cellythefloshie]

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[drabbles-mc]

Lucky Charm

Coco Cruz x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: four-leaf clover

Word Count: 500

A/N: It's been so long since I've written for Coco but this was such a fun little tidbit to make for him 🥰

There were a lot of things that Coco believed in, but he wasn’t sure if luck was one of them. He was a big believer in fate, that all things both good and bad had to happen to get you where you needed to go. Luck always felt synonymous with chance and that didn’t sit right with him, especially when he thought about you, about the daughter you shared.

It wasn’t until he was elbow-deep in the hood of his car and she came bursting in the garage with a four-leaf clover pinched tightly between her fingers that he really started to buy into it. She was just so little, so excited as she skidded to a stop a few inches away from him.

“Dad!” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

He looked over at her, stray curls falling into his face as he did. He raised his eyebrows as he looked between you standing in the doorway of the garage and the little girl standing in front of him.

Setting down the wrench in his hand, he wiped his hands off on his jeans before crouching to get to her level. “What’s this?”

“A four-leaf clover!” she said, volume increasing along with her excitement levels. “Mama said they’re good luck!”

A smirk curled his lips as he spared you a glance. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” She moved it closer to his face, almost close enough so that he would have to cross his eyes to try and see it properly. “Here! For you.”

“Me?” he asked with a laugh, hand pressing against his chest in a gesture to himself.

“You!” She pressed the clover against the back of his hand, prompting him to turn it so that he could take it from her. “A good luck charm.”

He chuckled as he looked at it in his palm. “Ah, I got you and your Mama over there—I already got more luck than I need.”

“That’s luck you can take with you,” she stated it so matter of factly that he didn’t have any room to argue the point.

“Guess I will then, huh?”

She nodded, pleased with the outcome. She stepped in and threw her arms around him in a hug before taking off back towards the door. “I’m gonna go look for more! Bye! Love you!”

He laughed, calling after her as he stood up and made his way over to you, “Love you back!” He shook his head as he looked at the plant in his hand then back up at you. “Good luck charm, huh?”

You laughed, resting your hands on his shoulders. “I just told her what it was. The rest was all her.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know if I buy that.”

“You’re a lucky man, Johnny Coco Cruz.” You nodded towards the clover in his hand. “You got the proof of it now.”

He laughed as he pulled you tighter against his side. “Can’t argue with that.”

[chrollohearttags]

𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇 • 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

synopsis: after sharing a night of passion, (y/n) and EJ aren’t so apt to part ways and return to reality. But the two share one more moment together before doing so. Meanwhile, (y/n) reflects on her goals and what it is she hopes to accomplish in this industry. Reassuring not only herself but her crew that her priorities like strictly in Pole Assassins after they confront her at dinner about her strange absence from dinner. Meanwhile, EJ returns home, motivated as ever and ready to work..only to find that someone’s been defaming him, leading to harassment by the media and even some potential legal troubles for the rapper. But will he be able to stomach the truth behind who started such a rumor mill or will it shatter his already fragile trust?

content warning: mature/heavy language, light smut, mentions of drugs, substance abuse and alcohol, sexual content, mentions of violence

word count: 7.9K

📝: I want to thank all of you so so much for the love on the last chapter and your patience. I know I took forever but I’m honestly in no rush to finish this series. However, I’ll be back to regular uploads soon.

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sunshine peered through the cream colored curtains of the fourth floor suite where (y/n) and your unexpected guest had spent the better part of yesterday evening and the early morning hours..making love until dawn reached the horizon. The entire room; a disheveled mess of clothes, bedsheets, alcohol and your bodily fluids. The result of filthy, unadulterated, rough sex. Taking you from the bed, the front of the mirror where he forced you to stare at yourself getting those deep strokes to the shower, where you let the cascading water drench your bodies as you exchanged slow tongue kisses. What transpired was something neither of you expected nor did you think would’ve taken place this soon. It was only weeks ago that you were backstage at the club, complete strangers and nothing more. Pacing the floor as you mentally prepared yourself to go hype up a crowd of thousands of strangers. Nervous because not only was it your first time but you were doing so alongside a man that you had admired for years. One of the only handful of celebrities that caused you to be awestruck and that managed to make you swoon. And intimidated you all the same! EJ the Don was a name synonymous with being less than friendly. He was very selective about who he allowed into his energy and it was safe to say that ninety five percent of the industry didn’t make the cut. He hated agendas and politicking. You, of course, were not expecting to be a part of the select few that he’d rock with. Especially when he gave you friendly advice about how to navigate life in the limelight and how to get through the event.

“Well for one, you can start by not treating me like some type of god. I’m just some regular motherfucker that happens to make music. I promise, you don’t have to tiptoe around me. Second, you got picked for this job, didn’t you? So that means you did something right because if I know anything about Mikasa, she doesn’t hire just anyone when her reputation is on the line..stop stressing and be yourself.”

it was the very first time since you had begun to intermesh in these circles that you had heard someone dismiss their fame, especially someone with his notoriety. He was so smooth with how he uttered it too. Most of these people threw their names around as if it were currency and it’d afford them every luxury they wanted. Not him! He didn’t want to be seen as some snobby, famed personality that not even his peers couldn’t even approach. You were so worried that he’d feel like working with you would be beneath him but not even close. “You smoke, sweetheart? I feel like you could use a puff or two.” He was funny, charming and super sweet. Naturally, you’d take a hit and it was up from there. “Trust me, it’s the only way I’ll be able to go out here and do this. I’ll let you in on a secret that not everyone knows about me. I have social anxiety like a bitch..may not look it but I hate being around all these people. Makes me nervous..even after all this time. My first performance? I ended getting so sick, I almost had to call it off..” Telling you as if the two of you had known each other for years. “Guess that makes two of us, huh?” As honored as you were, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t if you could go reference interviews with the man and find out these tidbits of information. Although it was apparent by the way his right leg kept jumping as time approached. But he could’ve fooled you when he hit the stage. Completely different person and a grade A performer..so much energy and charisma, you were thrilled to be watching. Not to mention when he pulled you on the stage and crooned to you. Singing the lyrics to one of his sexiest songs. Tipping your chin up and singing to you like a man to his lover. You nearly fell apart..fast forward almost a month and it would seem he somewhat manifested it. The whole thing was sort of impromptu but even so…

“..Mmm, good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning to you too..”

you were so happy that it took place!

swaddled up in the disheveled sheets, you’d roll over and glide a hand over Eren’s muscular chest..riddled with various pieces of inked artwork. His arm cradled around your shoulders and his lips pressed to yours. It was as if the two of you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. An attraction that neither of you had felt towards anyone in a long time. Normally, he’d be gone before the girl could even wake up or send her on her way the night prior with an Uber and enough cash for a Plan B if needed. He didn’t really do hookups all that often nor had he been with anyone who made him want to stick around..less known fly out to be with them. It was something about you that had him stuck. You were so cold, raw as hell and quite honestly..the finest woman he had ever been with. And him? No man had ever managed to get you out of your clothes that fast. The way he put that dick on you, you were five seconds from telling him he had to stay. Not to mention how fine and sweet he was! Your inbox hasn't stopped blowing up with threats of fighting you because this man camped out in your comments nowadays. Playfully flirting, knowing that it was all one big joke between the two of you. Maybe that’s why it all happened so suddenly. Your makeout session ensued for a little while; even finding yourself on top of him as he caressed your back, rubbing on your ass and feeling every inch of your skin. Not wanting it to end as he longed for the touch of a woman whom he could feel comfortable with for so long. He hadn’t been this relaxed since he’d been in the industry and it would be almost ten years. Which was sad when he thought about it. Regardless, he knew he couldn’t let his guard down entirely. This game was a funny thing and even if you wouldn’t run your mouth, he knew plenty that would..which would become a huge headache. All it took in this town was one bad photo opp or word of mouth to spread like wildfire and your business was front street on Twitter. The main reason why he stayed to himself is that when he popped out. Especially with a new chick on his arm, then the focus and conversation left his music and the poor girl had to endure harassment. When they may have been nothing more than acquaintances at best. It was irksome, for both parties. For him, his craft meant everything to him and nothing could stand between that. Not even the baddest bitch on the internet and you were definitely holding the title. As it stood, the two of you had no plans to make things official or even start dating. Hell, you didn’t even know if the feelings and emotions were there for that. But you did want to keep..whatever this was going for a little while longer. A warm smile cracked across Eren’s lips whilst yours hovered above them. “You keep doing that, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave.” And honestly, it was just fine with you. He could stay here and stay in it as long as he desired. “Who said you had to?” Nothing like waking up to a little lazy fucking. Mumbling against your lips, he’d whisper to you..asking if you wanted to put it back in and by the wide grin on your face, it was obvious. So with a firm grip on your asscheeks, he’d hoist you up and place you back down atop his dick. Subtly nestling it inside of your warmth. Both of you, moaning at the sensation. Releasing a collective “oh my gosh..” unable to believe that this was all taking place so suddenly. “You feel so good..” Even so, it was a moment that you didn’t want to end so soon. You weren’t ready for your dream to be over in just a flash. Draping your clasped arms around his neck and his to the small of your back, you’d make love yet again with the freshly risen sunshine falling cast over your bodies. Kissing, touching, gripping on every inch of each other’s flesh. Drinking it in. Soaking in each other’s scent.. “Don’t stop, baby..right there.” “Just like that..” riding him clean to another climax and although this was the most fun that either of you had had in a very long time, your conscience couldn’t help but to rear its ugly head..

this isn’t right..God, I know I’m not supposed to be here. Doing this..with him. With a man I barely know. It’s not like me. Not even remotely close. I don’t do one night stands and random hookups..letting a man get this pussy that I can’t even say ‘I love you’ to? Fuck no. I don’t remember the last time I’ve let a man near me be less known, inside of me. Hell, my friends might say I play it too safe, even a little boring. But even so, I wanted–no, scratch that. I needed him. Needed him to tell me I was beautiful, that I felt better than anyone he had ever been with..saying the things that no one’s ever told me. Am I wrong? Does that make me a bad person? Am I terrible for wanting to have my cake and eat it too? To work hard and play as well? I’m working so hard in my career, trying to make this all work. Dancing, this social media shit..I want to win so bad. But I want to live too..I want to enjoy the process while I’m in it. Is that too much to ask for?

all questions you’d have to sit and ponder on at a later date because at the moment , you were being thrust up and down, his face between your breasts as he popped them in and out of his mouth. Giggling and whimpering into his ear with light huffs escaping your mouth as well. Your eyes lazily fixated on one another before he interrupted the kiss. “Why’d you quit?” to which he’d snicker, smirking as he looked down at the bed; still clutching you by the hips..close within his grasp. “Cause I’m a hypocrite, that’s why..” reluctantly shoving your smaller frame back with a gentle press. “Shit..I’m sorry, (y/n).” Suddenly, you could feel your heart descend to the pit of your stomach. Were you about to hear the dreaded words that you’d hope to never be uttered? That this was all a one night rendezvous but he had to go? That he had only come for a quick nut but he was leaving? Alas, you’d have your answer soon. And it was neither the former nor the latter. But instead..

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I talked all that shit about how much I respected your work ethic..grind and shit. How you didn’t choose that bullshit over your bag. Now here I am taking you from that…” admitting with a muffled groan into your collarbone. Placing your hands to his shoulder blades, you’d glare up at EJ, glancing at him before bursting into laughter. You didn’t mean to but you truly couldn’t help it when you saw the look on his face.

“Sorry for what? It’s not like I turned you away at the door, and told you to get the fuck out. As you can see, I’m enjoying myself very..very much.” Declaring as you traced a trail down his bare chest whilst leaving a soft peck to his lips. “I am too..” obviously smitten and staring dumbfounded at your body as your hands traced his torso. “Actually, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It’s something different ‘bout you. I swear..” words that normally would’ve meant nothing when a man uttered them. Hell, they should’ve meant nothing coming from him and yet, your heart couldn’t help but flutter a little. “Forreal?” “Shit, you think I’d come all the way out here for just anybody? You haven’t stayed off my mind since I met you..” Still, it wasn’t safe to get ahead of yourself. Rather, it was best to play it cool and just take things slow. So that’s when EJ devised an ideal plan..

“Tell you what. Imma be in Houston for a few more days..you go handle your business. I know your girls are prolly worried sick. I got some things to take care of out here myself. When you’re done, you know where to find me. Sound good?” Although the last thing you wanted to do right now was leave this bed, less known this room, he was right. You guys were working professionals with soaring careers and a lot of responsibility. It was only the heat of the moment and your hormones that had you being this reckless but it was time to get yourselves together. Reluctantly lifting you off of his lap, Eren set you by his side, but not without leaving you with a few passionate kisses to get through the day. When he withdrew on the last one, he’d tug your bottom lip along with him, gently between his teeth as your palms resided on his cheek. “You promise?” “Swear.” With that, the two of you would prepare to head out for the day. You, going to the shower to cleanse yourself of last night and the morning’s activities. And him to his respective room, that was on the floor above yours. It was the only way to ensure that you didn’t find yourselves entangled in the web of lust yet again. “Have a good day, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” “Byeee.” So getting out undetected might have been a task in itself. So he’d grab his hoodie, sweats and a hat, hoping to evade anyone wanting to strike up a conversation or snap a couple involuntary candids of the rapper. Truth was, EJ The Don had something that many stars today didn't and that was a true sense of celebrity. Not so much being a diva or putting himself on a pedestal, because he was humble as fuck and super down to earth if you ever met him, but in the way of him not broadcasting his business for the world to see. He didn’t want his privacy invaded. So in the event of some seedy journalist seeing him leave someone else’s hotel room, looking disheveled and crazy, chatter was sure to fly. For now, he had to let you go and deal with some loose ends of his own. He had a homeboy out here needing some mixing and mastering done for his new project and who else better to have their stamp on it than Eren himself. Besides, it’d provide the perfect distraction and keep him occupied. Music was the one thing he always counted on to be consistent and that he never had to worry about being disappointed by. Something people did all too often and he honestly hoped you were different.

once you were finally alone though, you’d find yourself releasing a heavy sigh as you leaned against the door. You couldn’t help but to feel a little flustered and annoying at the fact that you were almost two seconds from pouting and begging this man to stay. It was a little embarrassing even. Nonetheless, he was right. Time to get back to business. And not a moment too soon. Because your phone was ablaze with texts from the group chat, missed calls and an incoming voice message from Ms. Ackerman. You had a gig tonight and that you couldn’t miss for anyone, including EJ! This very well may have been the biggest artist that the Pole Assassins as a collective have performed for. Not to mention, you getting the opportunity to be a host again so there were many different things to look forward to. But that sentiment couldn’t be mirrored by the woman who oversaw both of your careers. In fact, to say she was aggravated..not by you but her oldest client, would have to be a very gross understatement! But she all but had a plan to ignite a fire underneath the stubborn brat. The one thing she could always count on to get him moving was a question of his talent and a little competition.

while the two of you were making arrangements to go to rehearsal and to the studio, Mikasa was currently working behind the scenes on a master plan to make him get his ass back in the booth and put out something that would have everyone from die hard fans to habitual haters alike talking. Sitting in the backseat of her chauffeured car, the executive manager tapped away at her phone..eventually forming a wide smile across her face. Eventually, breaking into a laugh. “You know, the devil works hard..but goddamnit, Annie Leonhart. You work faster. If this doesn’t spark something in him, I don’t know what will.” Glaring down at the phone, a bold printed headline read: “Fans Disappointed After Rolling Loud Headliner Set, Rapper Sparks Online Debate.”

followed by a puffed up piece that went on to say: ‘Rapper EJ The Don, infamously known as the Underground God, his Living Dead Boy l and ll albums, as well as his dark and mysterious aesthetic, along with his outspoken personality that have captivated many. An artist branding himself on being anti industry and not adhering to any of the typical rules and politics, his music and personality have gripped millions. But adoring fans, both old and new, couldn't help but to be left with a bitter taste in their mouths amid the final and headlining act of Miami’s biggest night in music. Appearing as a surprise guest not even listed on the docket. Even so, the crowd saw an influx of attendees and morale once EJ made his way to the stage. Where many would be thinning out and departing for the evening, a plethora of spectators remained for the long awaited show. However, many were left wondering not only if he wanted to be there but if his heart was in the performance at all. Although the highly acclaimed artist does not partake in social media himself, many fans took to Twitter to refute the claims of bored crowds and silence..even sharing personal videos of the performance to prove that everyone was on their feet for their favorite artist. One user became extremely defensive and posted: @dollofgrey: THEE EJ the Don? Boring? Yeah u bitches are smoking dick. The crowd was going stupid the whole time. Don’t play w him.” posting footage of him head banging and inciting huge mosh pits during some of his more hype songs. Others, however..said the rapper seemed to be so jaded while on stage and thus began speculation as to why. Also sparking debate of how male performers are often given far more grace than their female counterparts in terms of performance standards. Rumors have been circulating recently that the twenty five year old had been hospitalized due to exhaustion and heart complications. Which made many arrive at the conclusion of substance abuse or chronic illness, although nothing has been confirmed. With the lack of interaction with his nearly over one million fans, much is expected to remain a mystery. But one thing is for certain: many potential and diehard supporters have grown weary, waiting for news of a new project, especially with his last one nearing its fourth anniversary. Will he step up and refute these claims, once again proving naysayers wrong? Or has The Don’s time on the throne come to an end?’

a very short, simple..yet, super loaded article full of interesting and quite frankly false statements. Ones that as his publicist, Mikasa had no interest in clearing up. If he wanted to repair his reputation, he’d have to do so himself with his talents. However, others were apprehensive of her methods. Including her very own assistant, who was in the process of organizing her boss’ next set of meetings into her planner when she couldn’t help but spot the deviant look on the dark haired woman’s face. “Ms. Ackerman. I don’t mean any disrespect but are you sure this is the right thing ta’ do? I mean, I thought you were supposed to help his reputation. Wouldn’t this hurt it?” To which she’d merely laugh and continue tapping away at her screen. “Oh Sasha. My sweet, little lamb. You have much to learn about this business and the people in it.” Amid her speech, Mikasa would reach over for her martini and stir the glass before crossing her slender legs and proceeding with her speech. “You see, I have over fifty different artists I manage in a day. Some..they’re fairly easy to deal with. Give ‘em a gig and they’ll take it. Whether it’s some no name festival in the middle of nowhere or Glastonbury..they’re on time, punctual and performing as if their lives depend on it. Even if the crowd isn’t as receptive. They work hard to build their brand and maintain good standing with the agency so that when their big break does come, we can put all the necessary power behind them to make sure they succeed. Then there’s the ones who are a little further along in their journey. Been doing it for a while and maybe they just need some time to get back into the swing of things. They may be working on projects or wanting to dabble into different things, helping artists who may just be starting out..that’s perfectly fine. We love to see that type of mentorship. My fiancé Jean, he’s sort of stuck in that limbo right now. He’s one of, if not the best song writers I’ve ever seen so while he works on his new album and our wedding, of course..he’s taken sort of a step back and decided to lend his support to others..I couldn’t ask for a better client and husband.” Sasha Braus, twenty three year old small town girl from Kentucky with dreams of becoming a big time manager herself. Although she and Mikasa were not too far off in age, she truly admired her from her early days on stage to her shift in media presence now. A young woman with such poise and intelligence..it was something to behold for sure. But as she continued to talk, still circling the perimeter of her glass, Sasha couldn’t help but notice how tight her superior was clutching the stem of it once she got to her final part of her little monologue. As did her expression shift; her lip curling and veins protruding from the side of her head.

“…And then..there are special cases. Ones that require a bit more of a push. These are the ones that have a very..individualistic approach to the way they do things. Meaning they act as they damn well please and never think about the consequences it may cause others. They’re very selective about what jobs they take, or even what meetings they attend for that matter. They’ll go months, maybe even years before they release a project and in that time, won’t tell a soul what they’re up to. Even so..they sit atop the charts. They’re constantly in the media; the topic of conversation, whether they do anything to warrant it or not. Either way..they only move on their time, thus making my and everyone else’s job a whole lot harder. That is EJ the Don. See, I’ve known Eren since we were kids. One of my best friends, actually. We’d play together..go skateboard, break into old abandoned houses. The usual. But his biggest flaw was that he never listened to anyone. Dude doesn’t even listen to his own mom. The bastard even left home at sixteen without a plan or direction. Anything could’ve happened to him out here but did he give a damn? No. He always acted of his own volition and didn’t care if it got him hurt or in trouble, or anyone else for that matter. And I learned early on the one thing that would make him listen. Do you know what that is, Sasha?”

befuddled as ever, the starry eyed brunette listened to her boss ramble on, mainly out of her own intrigue to learn more about this EJ character beyond his music and media headlines. Shaking her head, she’d begin to nibble on some nearby chips, listening attentively. Suddenly, Mikasa glared with quite a sinister look on her face. Not one looking to cause harm or malice but as if she just had a very memorable flashback before uttering one word: “Violence.” Which caught Sasha completely off guard!

“Violence?!”

“That’s right. Violence. Now I don’t mean in the physical sense..although, I did have quite a bit of fun beating his ass in a good street fight or two. But what I mean is something more metaphorical. A good swift kick in the ass. A push..something that forces him to be so uncomfortable, he has no choice but to move. This is that article. There isn’t much that Eren cares about, at least enough to get out of character but music? There’s no one in this business that does it quite like him. He’s a damn genius and the second that’s called into question, he’ll be quick to address it and clear up any notion that he’s not the best. It’s his one love in life so he’ll take it seriously. It’s a shitty thing to do, I know and I’d never stoop so low as to run a smear campaign against my own clients. But he’s beyond normal tactics. Besides, I didn’t think that lunatic of a woman would run with just a nugget of information and turn it into this. Leonhart’s a fucking psycho but she knows how to light a fire underneath someone, that’s for sure and press the right buttons. The only thing I can do now is wait and hope that he bites.”

it was a lot for Sasha to take in and trust, if she had faith in anyone, it was this woman. She’d watch her turn complete nobodies into industry sensations overnight. She was gifted at what she did and making the transition from performer to her current role was the best decision that Mikasa could’ve ever made. However, her assistant couldn’t help but shake the nagging suspicion that there was a missing piece to all of this and that it may not go according to her master plan. All of which she’d keep to herself because the last place she wanted to be was on the maverick’s bad side. That was not a woman you’d ever want to piss off! So she’d nod silently and agree. Hoping that for her boss’ sake, he did.

I hope you’re right, Ms. Ackerman. Business is business, but is it truly worth it..if you have to sell out your own friend?

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two days later • Houston Amphitheater, Houston, TX

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“Thank you Houston! ‘Appreciate the love..and I’d like to thank my wonderful band. My stage crew and of course, my lovely, beautiful dancers for tonight..the always talented Pole Assassins. These ladies are some of the best to ever do it and I’m grateful that they were a part of this experience tonight. Thank you all and good night, bless..”

the female R&B artist stood before the roaring crowd, microphone in hand and a huge smile as the audience showered both her and everyone else with copious amounts of praise. Even spiking at the mention of the quintet’s name. Bouffant curls, body like that of a goddess, tattoos littering her arms and the voice of an angel. It was unbelievable that you all were even here right now! Which was wild to imagine because just a year ago, the group couldn’t get a single booking because no one saw how it would add value to the concert but (y/n) and the entire group had come to prove everyone wrong. Now all types of artists were hoping to have the girls as part of the show. Not to mention, your outside starpower was beginning to have an effect on that as well. Either way, you had a blast. Being in a room with such infectious energy, being felt up by this fine ass singer as she belted the sultry lyrics to her songs and watched you twirl around the pole. It almost made you forget what and who you were doing not too long ago…fast forward, and you all found yourselves at the infamous Pappadeaux’s downtown. Sipping on drinks, reflecting and enjoying appetizers and laughs as you awaited your meals.

“Whew!..I don’t know about y’all but I am feeling amazing! That was the best hands down, I’ve never had that much fun.” Brianne, who was the first to bring up tonight’s show; ecstatic and thrilled after the high that came with dancing. Truthfully, it took her back to her days in the strip club and it felt like being at Blue Flame all over again. That bit of nostalgia, coupled with the fact that she too had a huge crush on their performer didn’t help! Especially when she grabbed her throat and pretended to kiss her. And not one person could disagree.

“Yeah, cause you were ready to bump coochies with that lady, Bri! You’re not slick.”

“And I would be right now, if it weren’t for you meddling bitches. I was this close!”

pinching her fingers together as she nursed another sip of her drink. Mad at her friends’ interference in her affairs. But they all knew better than to allow that to happen.

“Yeah, close to getting your ass beat. Her girlfriend was standing right there backstage and I know she got hands.” Brianne would simply dismiss Kelly and Syrai’s statements, continuing to eat her crab dip, placing a piece of bread between her long nails and taking a bite. “I know she does too. Real nice hands. That’s why I want both of them!” Sending all of them bursting into laughter afterwards. Brianne, who was and has always has been proudly lesbian never shied away from the fact that she loved the ladies. Hence why she was so popular at her old job..sure, she’d pull the rappers and drug dealers but it was the women in business suits and six figures who would line up to get a dance from Candy; her former moniker. “You are so crazy. I’m not messing with you.” Even so, it felt good for all of you to be back together..chatting it up and laughing like this. Celebrating after a huge success. However, it wasn’t lost on any of them that although (y/n) was talking and engaging, you seemed to be spaced out and your mind was elsewhere. That much confirmed by the way you were scrolling and snickering at your phone underneath the table. “Speaking of..” Niesha, who was holding her butter knife, smacked her lips and turned to face you, as did the rest of the table to confront you. Now that you were, they could easily address the elephant in the room: “..mind telling us why the hell you stood us up the other night? Had us waiting that long..” if anyone would remember, it was most certainly the woman you often referred to as your sister! Nothing slipped past Miss Niesha. She was not only perceptive but nosy as hell. You were certain your little story about sudden onset illness wouldn’t hold up in her eyes. So she’d ask for the truth this time.

“I told you, I wasn’t feeling well..”

“I know that’s what you told me. Ion believe that shit though. So….who was you in there fucking on?” The question immediately prompts you to spit your drink out and Kelly, Brianne and Syrai to burst into another fit of cackles. They knew as well as she did that you were full of it. “Nie!” Hell, they knew something was amiss when you left practice as soon as it was over..which had never happened! But instead of going to your hotel room, you beelined to another one on the second floor and it got the girls talking as to what or who was in there. “We’re not mad at you, we’re just curious.” “Hell, they got to be some pressure for you to keep going back. You don’t like nobody..” which they could all agree upon. Nonetheless, you’d suck your teeth and roll your eyes with a gentle smirk on your face. Nursing another sip of your drink, you’d dismiss their comments. Attempting and hoping to evade this topic. “That is not true. I’m nice.” How would they be able to handle the fact knowing that not only had EJ flew all the way out here just to see you but it was so damn good, that the second you two had any spare time, it was spent fucking on each other in the past seventy two hours. Sneaking to one another’s rooms, doing all the things you had no business and trust, if word got into the wrong hands, you’d be branded a clout chasing rapper’s girlfriend forever. Not exactly the label you wanted while trying to build a brand of your own. Even so, your girls all noted the very obvious difference in your demeanor since the night you claimed to have been sick. Most people didn’t sport beaming smiles after a case of food poisoning. However, they knew it was more so a matter of your guts being rearranged that had you elated!

“Chile, you don’t have to lie to us. So…who’s your new man? Is it a man at all?”

(Y/N) didn’t utter a word and rather sat there in complete silence, stealing small sips of the fruity margarita you had been consuming. Instead, you’d leave them to figure it out with the constant context clues you had been giving. Besides, if you said it outright, it’d actually look as if you two were dating which was the furthest thing from! They’d all sit there, mumbling among themselves as they tried to figure out who it was that had your attention all of a sudden. And the first guess would come from Syrai, who had spotted pictures of you and some male backup dancer who had been touring with the artists as well and had been trying to get at you for a while. To which you’d shake your head and the suggestions would continue. “Is it that defensive lineman for the Cowboys? He's been on your shit heavy.” They were blurting out everyone from this singer or that basketball player, who’s radar you had been on for the longest yet not a single one was right! That was until Niesha seemed to have a bit of a breakthrough, looking up and around the table at everyone as if they were crazy. Before finally turning her attention to you with a smirk.

“You lil’ sly bitch..it’s EJ!” Sending the table into complete hysterics. Kelly, Brianne and Syrai all gasping and screaming and you trying to quiet them. The last thing you needed was for somebody to overhear you all. But alas, she had guessed correctly and there was no faking or denying it because your change in expression said it all. He was definitely the culprit!

“Can y’all be quiet?! Damn..gon’ have my business all over Texas fucking with y’all.” Yelling as you tried to feign your own excitement; covering your mouth as you laughed.

but their excitement could not be contained. It made so much sense…the Instagram comments, the stories you posted, listening to his songs and your little incident at the club. Most certainly not off base to think that the two of you had slept together! “You been fucking on that fine ass man and ain’t told us? You so fake (y/n).” As enthused as they were though, they’d have some advice for you. “ion know, I’d be careful with that one. That man is notorious for being a damn heartbreaker.” “Yeah, and staying in trouble. You sure you want them problems, girl?” Which threw you for a loop, considering you’d never seen him with anyone other than his ex. But then again, they made it their business to be up in everybody else’s and you could give a fuck less. Either way, it was none of your concern and you could care less what he did in his past. “You say that like that’s my nigga or something. What he does when he’s not with me is not my problem.” That’s what they all admired about you. Your ability to stay focused and not be phased by any outside influences. You could be laid with one of the world’s most famous and finest men, only to walk right past him the next day as if you never met. It was commendable how much resolve you housed. But that was expected when you didn’t think much of anyone in this industry anyways. They just didn’t know if they could handle seeing that type of pressure. Sure, your time with EJ was very nice and you’d love to see him again if the opportunity presented itself once you returned home, but he was on a private flight back to Miami right now, proceeding to business as usual; moving along with life so it was in your best interest to do the same. Hoisting your martini for another sip, you’d flash a look to all of your girls and address their concerns once and for all:

“Listen, I got three things in this world I’m worried about: my girls, my brand and my motherfuckin’ money. Anything else is just a nice little distraction. Including him. The dick was nice…really, really nice and I had fun but it’s not that serious between us.” Declaring as you stirred your drink and giggled, reminiscing on your past few nights together. You made it abundantly clear he was a non factor. No matter how many times you guys had sex, sent nudes or commented on each other’s posts. Maybe one day you’d find someone to settle down with but today was not it. For now, you were having your way!

“Now that that’s settled…y’all can quit worrying about me. I’m good. Can we move on, my loves?” And that was enough to ease their minds but it wasn’t enough to change the subject though! “Sure!..after you tell us about you and Mr. Jaeger, chile. I’m trying to know what that’s hitting for.” Kelly interjected and the others followed suit. So you had no other option than to divulge all the dirty details. Especially since you had been dying to share with them. “Fine. Since y’all wanna be nosy and shit. Let me start from the beginning….”

What else were girlfriends for after all?!

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page break/time skip: Miami Beach, FL • The Jaeger Estate

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meanwhile, Eren had already made his departure from the Lone Star State and was long gone. Bidding (y/n) adieu with a quick little makeout session in your room this evening as you got ready, before boarding his private jet and heading back home. The brief sabbatical was one that he needed and would surely linger with him for days to come but it was time to refocus. No distractions, no interruptions and no more playing around. Guilty pleasures were just that: pleasures. Only meant to be indulged in every so often but now it was time to resume the hustle. Get back to his main lady and that was music. The sweet sounds of synthesizers and instrumentals. Penning his raw feelings and emotions onto paper and translating it all into audible art…there wasn’t a greater feeling in the world. Of course, your pussy might have been a close second!

“Yeah, tell Fader I’m a little busy this week. We’ll have to reschedule that interview for sometime later this month. Tomorrow, me and Ony are gonna be locked in on this EP so I don’t want any distractions. I’m sure you can handle that.” “Yes sir, I understand.”

chatting it up with his loyal assistant Floch, who had been awaiting his return. He asked what he had been up to for his few days of leisure and that he’d be rewarding him with a bonus for all of his hard work. Having landed less than an hour ago, Eren had made his arrival back to Miami. Stepping foot off of his private jet to the driver's seat of his brand new McLaren; fresh off of the lot only a couple days before leaving. A sleek, sexy black with chrome accents and an iridescent finish. Very much the rapper’s speed. Another piece to add to the collection of antique and brand new cars sitting at his residence. It was one of the few hobbies he enjoyed outside of his work. But unfortunately, he wouldn’t be greeted by his parked vehicles and quiet estate once he got there. Where he expected to have his hot shower and warm bed awaiting him..plans of relaxation in his bedroom with some video games, or perhaps a movie, there was something far worse on the horizon. On the long, dark stretch of street leading up to his driveway..no neighbors surrounding him, Eren could spot faint lighting beaming from beyond the locked gates..or rather, what should have been. “What the—hey, Floch. I’ll call you back..” cutting the indiscernible chatter on the other end short as he disconnected the call and lowered his iPhone to the empty passenger seat. Who or what the hell was going on?! Was someone trying to rob him and it had tripped the sensors? They shouldn’t have even been able to make it up this far without the security company or his own personal team being alerted. He didn’t keep an entourage of bodyguards surrounding him because he figured what his hands couldn’t handle, his .45 could but someone had just violated his privacy and the sanctity of his home!

but as he’d soon find out, the culprit wasn’t some would-be burglar, wishing for a hefty lick. But rather, a far bigger opportunist. As he neared the entrance; headlights beaming on the monogrammed gates, he’d catch the silhouette of two bodies in the beams as well. However, what followed was a swarm of people, armed with kit guns but the lens of a camera and microphones in hand, hoping to get their scoop by any means. Because unbeknownst to EJ and completely without his knowledge, word had been circulating the internet with heavy accusations about him. Things that he was not expecting to hear tonight.

“EJ! EJ! Is it true you’re quitting music?!” “Can you tell us about what happened at Rolling Loud, why were you so tired?” “Were you really away at rehab for your addiction? Can you confirm?”

he wasn’t sure where any of this was coming from. Hell, he wasn’t even aware that there was a problem with his performance or anything else so this was all news to him. Who had started this rumor mill? Or better yet, who had allowed them to come there?! Paparazzi mobs felt so outdated and cliche anyways but these slimy scumbags didn’t rest when it came to getting in everyone’s mix. Falsely reporting the last time got them sued and one a hospital visit. But what he did know for certain was that they had two seconds to get the fuck off of his property before he gave them something to report! “I don’t know who sent you here but get the fuck out my driveway and away from my house before I do something bad!” Yelling over the barrage of snapping cameras and shouting. He was becoming super irate and that wasn’t good for anyone because he had been known to lose his cool in the past, even resulting in a couple nights in jail and making brash decisions but they were the ones invading his privacy and because of that, he was two seconds from going off the deep end. Just then, as he were trying to keep a cool head, and think rationally, one of them left a slight indent in this hood of his brand new baby. From that point, there was not consoling or soothing him. Whatever happened, he’d worry about the consequences later. “You fucking idiot! Get the hell away from my car! I know damn well you can’t afford to fix this shit.” For now, he was going to beat all of their asses until he got to the bottom of it! Hopping out of the parked vehicle, EJ began to swing at and attack the unrelenting mob, much like he had done in his younger days in fame. He knew it wasn’t right and his manager was going to have a fit, but he was going to teach people about disturbing his peace.

when I find out who did this shit, and sent these bastards to my house..I’m snapping. And they better hope it’s not their fucking neck!

but little did he know that the culprit…may not have been some far off stranger as he may have thought. But rather…someone far closer.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: .･*:｡.･*:｡.･

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! please check out some of my other stuff in the masterlist. Likes are appreciated but reblogs would mean the world and help me out a TON! Also, considering leaving a little something in the tip jar if you’re feeling extra generous! 🫶🏾

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[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends. 

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

----

Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of. 

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push. 

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom. 

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone. 

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow. 

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased. 

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him... 

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person. 

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning. 

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.” 

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.” 

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

 “Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.” 

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.” 

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.” 

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.” 

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.” 

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.” 

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--” 

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.” 

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point? 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear. 

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk. 

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying. 

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist. 

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.” 

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu. 

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe. 

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.” 

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?” 

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t make it weird.” 

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?” 

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.” 

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”  

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.” 

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”  

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?” 

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.” 

“You don’t like them.” 

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.” 

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.” 

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later.  There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.” 

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” 

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

 “...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--” 

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.” 

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before. 

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.” 

The sincerity and obvious fondness  that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest. 

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.” 

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek. 

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.” 

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.” 

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.” 

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.” 

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.” 

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me. 

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest. 

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.” 

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder. 

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm. 

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.” 

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer. 

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts. 

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.” 

---- 

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety. 

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

��Might help if you close your eyes.” 

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.” 

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?” 

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--” 

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--” 

“Shut up.” 

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.” 

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember. 

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive. 

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?” 

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.” 

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?” 

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?” 

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.” 

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.” 

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?” 

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.” 

“You sound like a mother.” 

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.” 

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.” 

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.” 

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.” 

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.” 

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.” 

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.” 

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”  

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.” 

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.” 

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.” 

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.” 

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone. 

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?” 

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--” 

“Weren’t getting enough attention?” 

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.” 

“Did he?” 

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.” 

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.” 

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?” 

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.” 

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--” 

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.” 

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained. 

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.” 

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?” 

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.” 

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.” 

----

Taglist: Tags: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises 

[nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour]

It's astonishing to me that I have seen Harrowhark Nonegesiumus described as 'extremely fuckable' on this website with my own two eyes. Does 'fuckable' mean something i don't understand? Is it just a synonym for being hot? Because if 'fuckable' means 'relatively simple to fuck' in the same way 'doable' means 'relatively simple to do', Harrow is the least fuckable person in the whole wide world. she is titanically difficult to have sex with, and for the record I deeply admire this about her. First off, two of the most eligible suitors in the Nine Houses have been trying to woo her for like two hundred thousand words and never got any further than a hug but okay. let's say you win her over and she's dtcmk (down to close mouth kiss, the height of physical intimacy for everybody's favorite death nun and the most advanced act in Harrow's sexual repetoire). Well i hope she's taken a shower since the last time she threw up or got herself covered in gore! Probably not though! Lucky you!

Like she's literally not gonna fuck you bro, just jump headlong into a 24/7 total power exchange with no discussion whatsoever, she'd be wayyyy more into that than sex

[multifanritz]

Jason Todd head canons cuz @bruciemilf has pulled me into the cult and now I have to share years worth of ideas with yall

Uses big words. As a kid he went out his way to have a "word of the day." He kinda stopped when he came back. But when he joined the family again he used a big word in a petty argument with Tim

Tim: You don't even know what that means!

Jason: *gives full definition and synonyms*

Tim: *is shocked into silence*

So he starts doing it again

Jason is very protective of Bruce. Batman can get kidnapped and he'll be like "UGHHH I guess I'll help."

BRUCE gets called something mean online and he writes and entire essay. Half of it is swearing

He doesn't insult Duke. He's too green and doesn't want to hurt his feelings

He will LIGHTLY insult Cass. But only once a day. He knows she can destroy him with a just a few words

He and steph a crime alley besties

He jokes about his trauma obviously

Before he fully joined the family again, back when Tim was still robin, he gave Tim his number after a close call

"Call me if ur in trouble."

Jason gets a call from kidnappers cuz Tim gave them his number cuz he "didn't want to stress bruce out."

Yeah, Jason was... a bit mad

Only HE is allowed to kidnap baby birds

"Idk bruce, those men were gone by the time I got to Tim. Maybe someone threw them in a fire or smth idk."

His most locked up online file that is hidden behind oracle level firewalls is blackmail pics

Most of them r for dick probably

He doesn't have any for Barbara cuz he knows she would ruin him

I'll add more as time goes on lol

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 10

word count: 637

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

June 11, 1988

Dear Will,

It’s 2:03am right now, and I can’t fall asleep. You may be asking, “Why can’t you fall asleep, Michael?” Well, William, I can’t fall asleep because I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you. And in case you didn’t know, I want to kiss you a lot.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

—

I swear to God you’re in my walls, Will. Because the second I went down the horniest tangent these letters have ever seen, your voice came through on my walkie, asking if I was still awake. Your breathing sounded congested and labored, like you’d just been crying. Of course, I threw my pen down onto my desk and answered. You told me you’d had a nightmare, and that I was the first person you thought of after you woke up. I know this is kind of fucked up, but I felt a small sense of pride that you hadn’t gone to El or Jonathan first. But then you told me that your nightmare had been about me, and that pride was instantly ripped out of my chest. Before I could apologize for anything Nightmare Mike could have said or done, you told me that I had been cursed by Vecna and you couldn’t save me in time. You broke down in the middle of describing my bones snapping, and all I wanted to do was hold you and tell you that it was okay, that I’m still here. So I did.

I snuck out and biked over to your house, climbed the trellis below your bedroom window, and knocked. You let me in with wide eyes, and I just stood there for a second, catching my breath. I am not athletic at all. I can’t say the same about you; your muscle definition in the tank top you were wearing made me feel a little dizzy. But this was not the time for pining, so I took a step towards you and pulled you in for a hug. You smushed your entire face into my sternum, and I could feel new tears wetting my shirt. I just held you tighter, rubbing my hand up and down your back as you cried. A while later, you pulled back to apologize, but I reassured you that it was okay before smoothing your bangs back and kissing you on the forehead. I thought you’d freak out at my impulsivity (at least, that’s what I was doing, internally), but you just smiled up at me and hugged me again. You probably chalked it up to me being a good friend. And I’m glad you think so. I’m trying to be a better friend.

I eventually had to go back home, since my parents are dragging me to see Nana tomorrow (today?) and they’d be mad if they found my room empty in the morning. I wish I could’ve stayed. I promise I’ll make it up to you sometime.

Love,

Mike

-

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